in a nutshell

dear friends,

Time does its’ own thing, each of us within our cocoons play groan, weep and explore; diving deeply into resilience and fortitude to bear the goings on, the frustrations, the escalating horrors. Sometimes courage is easy and other days despair swamps us. How to maintain love and integrity.        I am not alone, You are not alone ; together we Are the greater sum of our parts . In consciousness – we find the keys, open the gates, harness resources, breathe into dimensions beyond the political sphere and honour the gift of incarnation upon Mother Earth at this time.

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echidnas near the wood pile – very shy , mating season

                                                                         

September 10 – October 14 : welcome to a snapshot of my world.

10. canny bush rat steals the soap

11. confused, ninety-two with new phone

12. no joy running when baby is sick

13. granddad sailor waiting for wind on the Hawkesbury

14.grey bush rat races along the curtain rings

15. hellooo, wombat pauses, thinks about it

16. fierce love, the young king turns nine

17. wisteria opens to honeyeaters bees and Rain

18. possums strip lemon tree, not happy

19. hard, says two-year-old practicing scissor cuts

20. school children invite union of hope

21. white ants flying, grey shrike thrush busy

22. the rainbow blanket hops onto the bed

23. youngest daughter deep into the inquiry

24. neither of us turn the radio on anymore

25. I am the bird Song of the Forest awakening

26. cumulus clouds sally across the valley

27. spotted neckties , two turtle doves drink at the tank

28. mile after mile after mile slaughtered carcasses

29. the ex is wearing a kilt

30. swallow egg shell greets me at the door

1. the forest slips free of the compartment

2. spring equinox has passed, no Stormbird

3. five medicine women swop notes on sunny verandah

4. king parrots snavel tiny peach buds

5. birthdays sugar and swings

6. facing extinction, not a pretty sight

7. main street quiet on holi-day Monday

8. at night frogs singing up Rain

9. shrike thrush pecks at the sunlight soap

10. a dry rainforest track coughs up one leech

11. young king goes out finds wombat has a chat

12. sea eagle watches seven women dance on sand

13. deep peace beneath a giant fig

14. airy fairy he said about Mother Earth

 

in love and light

SandRa x

A littlebig story

helloo

singsongs the young voice.

hello I say

hello grandma

has mummy gone to bed?

past 7 o’clock I knew I was winging it

yes he tells me

ok well how is she?

she’s good, feeling much better.

that’s good I say

she did another yeti

terrific

so she had a neti and went to bed with Haydee

giggling over the line

as he got the yeti neti joke.

give her my love

ok, love you grandma

love you Kingston John.

a simple interaction

an easily forgettable moment.

the bedroom door is flung open

Haydee stands there head cocked on one side

all of 20 months

having a sleep over with her family.

the young kings sister is formidable

uh

hello sweetheart we croon

in bed with our cups of tea and sardines on toast.

a summers dawn

a chatter of birds

a magpie melody

kookaburras chuckling.

coming up then

uh

hoisted up by grandad

and wobbly crawling plants herself in the middle.

uh  uh   hand pointing

I pass her a piece of toast

we sit the three of us

wonga pigeon wanders across the verandah.

she babbles away

rarely saying words we recognise

at home in her own language

at home in her own skin.

a tall lad blinky eyed appears in the doorway

startled to find his spot usurped by the little sister

we bunch over to make room

the toast is shared again.

this is a moment of loving connection

a gift for the soul

a treasure for the heart

a gem to wear in less savoury moments.

again a simple interaction

an event not worth mentioning.

But for

the love that pulsates in the ethers

enveloping us within its force field

renewing connections of feel good neuron activity

supporting

nourishing

benefiting

unifying .

this is the realm of Little Big

a yin yang thing.

if you have read the third policeman it is the point of the needle

if you haven’t it is the time between breaths

the space between smiles

part and parcel of the eternal Presence of Now.

a hardly anything moment

like so much of life

and yet

we can if we choose

be Present

and milk it for all it is worth.

 

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the language of eartheart

 

political / economic language saturates our daily lives but it is our choice whether we speak it or not. It is a language of shares, investments, insurance, security, profit and loss leading to winners and losers. Words make stories in which everything is a commodity, measured in terms of productivity progress and usefulness. A language that denies Nature Feelings the Earth and Love.

The orchestra is playing. It began at dawn with great open bellied laughing, then slightly more  melodic tunes ,peeps whistles whips and trills until it is riotous in the sweetest possible way. The songs continue as I drink my pot of tea, eat toast, follow me as I meditate, dress, sweep the kitchen floor , brightly busily slowly, tuned in to the day they chirp cheep chatter and warble.

This symphony is full of purpose expressing vital news marking the patterns of their lives of the Forest around them; sunrise, egg hatching, a flowering, a seeding, storm alerts, approaching snake goanna human, matings, deaths, sunset, all is jotted in the Forest ledger, all a note played in the orchestra of Birdom. Everywhere wrens honeyeaters magpies thrushes pigeons tawny frogmouths, skinks wombats wallabies and bandicoots are communicating the Radiance of Life on Earth.

Thunder cracks open the swollen skies, runs away over to the Mountain and races back again. I am lying on the couch reading when the thunder and lightning Beings skip into the room whip crackling the air, chuck a bright flare of light and startle me.

Rain has a huge vocabulary, a vast repertoire of moods sounds and feelings . There is the song for splashing, for plopping fat drops, tapping on window panes, a pelting drumbeat on the iron roof, a windy slapping against the tree trunks and a gushing gurgling rushing flooding along creeks tracks and drains.

Some days it broods far above, squatting on the Mountain wearing  a grey beret. Cloud mist drifts around inviting the faintest speck of moisture on the cheek. Other days rain scarpers out to sea with barely a backward glance, where it visits Mother Ocean and shares a cuppa. In its own sweet time it returns to the valley rejuvenated committed to the business at hand and delivers a soft shower or a teeming heavy pelting drama.

Why would we think that Water is not cognizant, that Earth is not aware, that Air is not tuned in, that Fire does not know us? We are forged from the Elements , related to every drop, every breath, every molecule.Exif_JPEG_420

There is a Song for the ghost mushroom, the elder flower, pittosporum , titree, lavender  of scent and beauty , bee foraging , bioluminescence ,oils and medicine. I inhale , take them into my body – a draught of pure sun drenched essence Sings in me.

The dialect of frogs – croaks cricks stutters bonks hops and leaps in  communication with Earth and reed, Water and soft mud, hibernation dreaming, forecasters of rain and water quality.

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The ripe summer peach is a rich feltness in my mouth, dribbles along my fingers and chin singing of tree limb and bough, of bud blossoms leaves fruit and birds nests, sun, rain, wind and days measured in ripeness and angles of the sun and spiders that weave between branches , worms burrowing in the roots and squealing children that swing up on branches and chuck pips at each other .

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Hard working ants push up the soil – a drainage technique for them that informs me rain is coming.

Every Being has language, every Being shares their Story .

Stop !  listen and learn a language older than the stock market, older than open cut mines, older then human intervention.

This language of Nature, of Life is ancient, a lineage that holds Creation in its Song. One day we entered the story inventing our words / myths around the camp fire, Songs of respect and awe, humility and gratitude until we dug up the uranium, clearfelled the forests and greedy gobbled dry the rivers.

It was then we changed the words to deny Beauty . It was then we allowed fork tongue speak of rational logic to lock out the weeds and sunflowers that nod as you walk past, the cloud that stoops to peer in through the window, the dripping tap in the kitchen saying hey I am Water, we are Kin. It was then a Forest became a compartment and the share price of google was more important than the River the Platypus and the Child.

Now we are going forward determining outcomes while the Raven sits on the wire, keen eye piercing , aaahh aaahhh aaahhh.

Probably time to embrace the full embodied experience of connection, time to learn the language of the Heart that communicates with all Beings.

Time to come home.

Come back to Earth.

x

 

 

 

 

 

 

love is a feeling though no one is quite sure where it lives

 

love is an invitation

a celebration

a rainbow nation.

 

love holds no mass yet speaks in volumes

has no number though it can be an equation

is qualified but cannot be quantified.

bespeaks all languages,

influences all flavours,

and slips inside impossible situations.

 

it is a noun

And

a verb.

 

love is a feeling though no one is quite sure where it lives.

 

love is the master

the baby

the flower

the stream.

 

love is an explorer, a seeker ,a traveller

poking around market places,

in and out windows,

over pavements and oceans,

through veins and arteries,

creeks and rivers,

in the currents of air,

the roots of trees,

keeping rhythm

in heartEarth time.

 

it is confounding

unsettling

surprising

unseen.

 

love is a woman, a mother, a daughter, a sister,

humbly on our knees we offer grapes and service,

stuffing her pockets with laughter and light.

 

it is invisible

intangible

reciprocal

transcendental.

 

love is sacrifice,

an offering made with no expectation,

little chance of success

and a willingness to give all that we are.

 

love is truth and truth is not the opposite of lies.

it has no opposite

no enemy

no comparison.

 

love holds no judgement,

accepts us unequivocably

and whatever dark deeds we commit along the way

are shattered in its quiet brilliance.

 

love is not a fizzy drink or a chocolate sponge

not a bicep or a breast

not a child or a new car,

but then again,

in the moment it could be any and all of these things.

 

love is a possibility

a fighter without weapons

a teacher without a curriculum

a dog without a bone.

 

 

love is

a mystery

and we

the humble steward.

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happy new year

x

it was a modern day loaves and fishes parable

 

…. the summer of 78/79 I returned to N. Zed. Uni was on holidays for three months so I slipped back into my childhood bedroom and took a job at the Majestic Picture Theatre in Willis Street Wellington selling movie tickets.

Superman the Movie was released in the December and I gave free tickets to Mum and Dad. Although impressed by the tour of the theatre which also doubled as a cabaret venue the movie was not their cup of tea and Dad was nudged a few times when his snores got too loud.

Over the long weekend in January 75,000 plus people flocked to Waihi on the east coast of the North Island for a three day music arts counterculture event called the Nambassa Festival.

I travelled from Wellington in a yellow Vauxhall Velox with my friend Fang, hitchikers lined the main road north and we piled three then four into the car. The roads became choked and the festival ran out of camping space. Hours and hours were spent on the side of a road miles from the festival until more paddocks were commandeered from local farmers . By the next morning police ordered the festival closed and blocked the roads 20km out but still they came. Tent cities sprung up like mushrooms along the way  and many people walked in for free. Television planes that flew over estimated closer to 150,000 .

 

       Nambassa was/ is a rainbow story blossoming under the broad umbrella of hippiedom where the ideals of peace and love were translated into many people coming together to camp play music and share their skills – from breadmaking to holistic healing, crystal therapy, circus tricks soul food, birthing, yoga, dance, leather work, pottery, baskets, and speakers on all subjects ranging from indigenous activism to a no nuclear future from politics ,religious faith, sustainable energy and everything else under the sun.

 

 

We camped on the top of bare cliffs beside the ocean – a long walk to the central market place and staging area , a steep skid down to have a swim and an hours walk back up. Not enough toilets had been built and the hessian screens blew away, not enough food had been  brought in but everyone got fed, not enough water but tankers were organised to bring more.

 

It was a modern day loaves and fishes parable

and I was there.

 

I felt something, a tangible change, a possibility fuelled by the passion of many people

making dreams come true.

I witnessed another story emerging …

and I am still there…

still activating the story line by line image by image

heart to heart…

 

 

Buddha sat under a tree and Realised. 

Jesus went into the desert and Realised .

 

We don’t need drugs or religion or leaders or laws although there can be good cause given for all or any of these tools.

What we do need is the appetite for justice integrity and grace.

Time to have our own Realisation .

No need for a tree a forest a desert or a cave,

a sincere look within and a gratitude for all that is given will go a long way towards the aha moment of who we are where we are and the role of stewardship within our hands.

 

we can place the story of respect front page,

hold the story of love in the centre and

spread  the story of kindness from our lips.

 

 

and then if we;

taste surrender

explore possibilities

give way

become more

do less

invite introspection

canvas diversity

honour pledges

counsel modesty

bridge difficulties

court love

listen deeply

intend truth

live presently

count blessings

serve humbly

 

we may remember

that

we are molecules and cells connected to each living thing,

we are as the Stars and the Sun

we are kin to Dolphins and Sea Horses, Camels and Buffalo.

we are love

and love is the glue that binds us together

and with that light we cannot fail.

 

amen