wanderings

I love birthdays

2011-11-28T22:07:00.001+10:30

I love to acknowledge and celebrate birthdays. With my family, to see them and share some time together. With my friends, my close friends, at the very least to talk to them via telephone. And then there's the sms's, the emails and the one I use least of all, the card sent by post.

I'm celebrating my birthday today and enjoying the day. As my birthday is in late November, throughout my school days I always had an exam on that day or the day after. I never could truly celebrate it without study on my mind. It always pissed me off! Since I started working I have chosen not to work on this day, just as I did today. It is the one day I chose to ponder me. And to enjoy being with me, and the people who visit or call me.

But although a happy day for me today there has been a sadness thinly veiled over me. My sons called but only one of my close friends rang. Some family rang the other day, some close friends sent email the other day, all in case they forget my birthday on the day. Off course I am happy they even remembered, but deep inside I can't help feeling a little sadness that near no-one wanted to 'talk' to me today.

Of course I could say they are busy - they are. Of course I can say I could have rung them - of course. But still like that little spot of yin in the yang, there is a little bit of sadness in my happiness.

Still, should I be concerned? People have remembered me and wished me well. Does it have to be more than that? I suppose I just have to grow with the technology of sms'ing and emailing although I still prefer the closer contact, seeing the person, hearing their voice, particularly if they 'close' friends. Or maybe they are no longer 'close' friends - we all move along.

Well to end, I did have a lovely day, I am content and I do see the Beauty that surrounds me, and I do my best to express it.

Happy Birthday...

nostalgia

2011-10-09T12:37:00.001+10:30

Sometimes, for no reason I can fathom I feel a little sad. I know and appreciate that the universe is always giving, but the sadness stems from the feeling that I don’t give back. That I think that I have wasted so much of my life in not living to the fullest, in not giving totally and without expectation. Of course I know I have given and continue to give but there is an emptiness that takes over and the feeling of wasting is stronger.

This usually happens on quiet mornings, like this morning. And not only a sadness, but also a feeling of nostalgia. Thinking back and reflecting, remembering, feeling past experiences.

This morning was a quiet morning. The air outside was slightly cool and very still. There was some wetness on the ground from over night rain and that atmosphere took me back.

I was nearly 12 years old and travelling on an overnight train to Canberra. It was early morning and beyond the noise of the wheels turning on rails, beyond the noise of the carriages swaying, the world outside appeared still and quiet. Looking through the windows of the vestibule where I stood, I could see clouds of mist hovering over the land like floating puffs. I felt peace and oneness and what I now think of as the universe talking to me. I could hear it.

Later in years in China I would sit outside on the raised brick flowerbed outside the university wall, where I worked. I sat for hours at a time, alone, just looking at the world living and expressing itself, and I a part of it. In Weifeng I used to sit in my room looking out through the window as the world passed by, mainly on bicycles. It amused me to watch as rider after rider would slide on the ice and falling over creating a wake, a domino effect of cycles and people.

And in the quiet times I used to lie on the couch and listen to a tape of the many-stringed zither, letting it transport me beyond my room, beyond myself. Sometimes Xiao Mao was there silently knitting, always the same red jumper, keeping an eye over me making sure her laoshi was ok.

There have been many times when that quietness settled over me and then there are the times like this morning when a sadness and nostalgia fill me taking me back to those times. There is nothing I can do about it other than recognise and accept that it is there. This morning I played the tape that I used to play in my room in China. I allowed the quiet and the music settle over me. I accepted the sadness and knew that that emptiness would pass because the universe is constantly giving and has more power than just I. I allowed my self to enjoy the reflections and slowly began to live ‘now’ again as I went about my chores, cleaning, cooking, preparing.

And now I am back and I continue. All these experiences, feelings are the me of this consciousness I am aware of. It is, I am.

so many saints...

2011-10-07T11:48:00.002+10:30

There are many saints in this world. Funny though, when I ‘googled’ Catholic Online there is no Saint Mario!

Anyway I believe there are many saints in this world, people that have not been canonised by any particular religion, people who may not be religious or even believe in god. Certainly they would not be found in Catholic Online but they exist. Maybe they are not holy in the religious sense but their virtue is strong and visible. A few that have crossed my path and that I have observed of their behaviour, I have written about. They have left in me a reverential awe and a sense of gratitude for the humbleness they demonstrate. Yet, how many other saints are there that I have not observed?

Each day I see things, small things that are not worthy of a mention. But when I sit back and think about what happened, if I look beyond the superficial, I see that a complete creation of beauty has occurred. It is a ‘thank you’, an acknowledgement, a small gift, verbal or otherwise, any small thing that can create a beautiful smile and a sense of warm beauty. And many people around me are being beautiful all the time. Just take the time to observe, to hear and you will notice this.

Of course lots of the negative happens around me as well, and in truth I probably create some of the negative. Yes, the negative does happen. But there is no need to empower it; it has enough power on its own. When I embrace the universe and know that I am at one with all around me it includes the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’. It includes being at one with the victims as well as the perpetrators, the light as well as the dark.

The saint is one who accepts the negative and yet still gives without expectation, still gives with humility and without making a scene of giving. The saint accepts that some wrong is done in the course of living in this consciousness, but forgives, others and himself, and flows. The wrong does not grow in obsession, as an obsession; it is done, it is recognised and acknowledged and one moves on.

But joy and contentment come from Beauty. Our life is to be content, to be in harmony and filled with Beauty. So act with Beauty as a consequence. The saint gives and in the manner she or he gives, Beauty is created. That is Beauty which expresses emotion and which is felt when a saint is in action.

Yes there are many saints around me. I thank you for the love you spread, for the warmth you deliver and for the Beauty you demonstrate. Continue, be so and let me aspire…

In Beauty let it be.

A trip to Sydney

2011-10-07T11:27:00.007+10:30

I took a trip from Adelaide to Sydney, delivering an MG sports car to my friend. At 5:00 AM, or just before, as I left it was dark and being August in Adelaide a chill was in the morning hour. The car, a soft top was serviced and ready to take on the approximate 1,500 kilometre journey. I too was ready; coffee and sweets near to hand.

Driving at night or early morning, particularly before the sun is up is an enjoyable experience for me. I love the quietness, I love the lights and reflections especially if there a slight rain which distorts the hues. I like being alone and the aloneness of being on a road quiet of traffic with only an occasional vehicle coming in the opposite direction or overtaking.

Looking through the windscreen, around me and into the distance following the curve of the road is fun and relaxing. I think of many things. My mind wanders and I allow many thoughts to just pass through, never dwelling on or following any particular thought. Different sights stir up memories and at times ‘new’ thoughts occur. I sit back, comfortable and drive.

The day travelled past me with nothing happening and yet everything was happening. While I was cruising the straight stretch along the Hay Plains at just over 100 kph I looked in my rear vision and a car just appeared, next it was along side me and then, within seconds it was beyond my vision. How fast was it travelling? I have no idea and unable to put it into perspective. It was there and then, gone. I travelled along the roads, stopped at different places and rested, napped. I kept tiredness at bay.

That night I stopped at a motel in Yass. It was comfortable, the air was warm; I drank a couple of whiskeys and slept well. The following morning, again rising before 5:00 AM I packed the car (coffee and sweets) and found the temperature was not the same as in Adelaide. It had dropped to minus 7 degrees Celsius. The silver MG with its black soft top was covered in ice, white and thick. It was difficult to remove, scrapping and wetting it down was getting me nowhere. I continued particularly with the windscreen and with the headlights. The ice was so thick over the glass cover that the light could not penetrate into the darkness. It was like driving with no lights. But in time I managed.

That morning as I drove through the rolling hills and particularly at one point when I crested over a rise and looked below and beyond into the valley the sight was… beautiful. Everything was frost white reflecting the bright dazzle of the sun. Fences, trees, the paddocks all covered in a brilliant frost. I had to stop the car. I had to get out and breathe in the sight, listen to the sight, immerse myself with the sight. It was a moment and more of just being there, a part of the whole brilliance. Finally I turned and continued my journey.

All went well. The MG was delivered, our friendship was revived, and food, drink and chat went on until I had to return home. I talked about my drive and shared the few experiences where nothing happened and yet everything was happening. But throughout and even today the experience of the frost, the image that was there before me, that splendour that transfixed me remains a strong impression.

How can I not believe that the universe speaks to me, looks out for me? It is there for me to be open to and to trust in. This universe is part of me, I part of it. And life with its Beauty goes on, presenting me not only the unheralded saints that exist living their lives alongside me but also with the natural beauty that abounds.

Question(s)

2011-09-25T16:09:00.002+09:30

We as a human race populate a planet within this universe and yet seem to live in our own worlds. This universe is part of our consciousness but is our consciousness part of the universe? Is there even a universal consciousness?

Different beliefs tell us this world we are conscious of is not real, it is a dream or even just a projection of our mind or an illusion. I used to believe that it was an illusion but now I don’t know. I tend to think that this is 'IT', now is 'IT' and we are part of the universe which is infinite. But it does not really matter, at least I don't think I really matters. What is important is that I believe in what I do and am conscious of what I do each moment.

Returning to the first sentence, in relation to the observation that we ‘seem to live in our own worlds’, this can be looked at from different perspectives. We are selfish and all we do is about ‘me’ or we are conscious of others and all we do takes them into consideration. And even taking others into consideration, are we considering what they want or need or are we just considering what we think they want or need?

And of course the questions, and the path can become many, can become varied. Truly, to live simply and in harmony, to fulfil our time in this space we are conscious of, do we even need to ask these questions?

Truly, why does my mind do so?

Prayer...

2011-09-15T15:27:00.004+09:30

And what is prayer. And why do we pray. Each morning and throughout the day I utter out loud or silently my version of the Navajo morning prayer – I added a little bit to it. I don’t think of it as a prayer but an attitude towards the universe I wish to maintain. Beauty means Harmony and when the world is in harmony, when there is harmony present, all is as it should be – Beautiful.

I also express gratitude, a thank you for who, what I am and have.

There is no reason to ask for anything, I am fortunate in this way. I have everything I need; the universe has and does provide for me. I may want something that I haven’t got or even want more of what I’ve got but nothing for asking for, praying for. Yes, I am fortunate in this way. The universe provides and I trust in it. It will be there for me until my time is over. But not only does the universe provide it also challenges.

The universe challenges me often; I challenge myself often, especially through my own ignorance and arrogance. Each day there is something I have to ‘deal’ with. Something I have to change or learn to accept. Something that makes me stop, and listen or look at differently. Occasionally though I do not stop but barge through and then face the consequences. But usually I face the challenge and make a choice on how to deal with the outcome. (I don’t always succeed but I choose how to deal with it). So, other than giving thanks to the universe my prayer is not be one of need.

But, what is prayer. The different religions have their own prayers. According to Wiki…

“Prayer may be directed towards a deity, spirit, deceased person, or lofty idea, for the purpose of worshipping, requesting guidance, requesting assistance, confessing sins or to express one's thoughts and emotions.” (From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia)

So, I suppose, according to the above definition of prayer, I do pray. It just doesn’t feel like the prayers I was taught as child by my family, school or church. The words or gratitude I express, none ‘feel’ like prayer. The words are not a ritual they are for me, as I stated, an attitude.

But why do I say them.

I am but a small part of the universe, here, living in this particular plane of consciousness. I am not aware of any other plane, of any other existence. This is IT. I AM. And for this I wish to express to the universe that I am grateful for being a part of it, I am grateful for what it has given me, and I am grateful for the chances I have of being and living in harmony with it, living in Beauty.

What is prayer and why do we pray – it doesn’t matter. We do what we feel comfortable with regardless of what we want to call our thoughts or the reason behind why we express our thoughts. Be content within yourself when you express yourself. Be who you are, and be it in Beauty.

Let Beauty walk before me

Let Beauty walk behind me

Let Beauty walk around me

In Beauty let it finish

Let Beauty grow inside me
Let Beauty be expressed by me
Let Beauty be with you
Let Beauty be…

Dream

2011-06-05T10:47:00.000+09:30

“And somebody spoke and I went into a dream”. These are words from ‘A Day In The Life’ written by Lennon and McCartney and recorded as the final song on the Beatle’s ‘Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’ album.

I liked them then and they still resonate within me today.

A dream may be a series of images that pass through one’s mind, regardless of being asleep or awake. Sitting somewhere or doing a repetitive task, usually mindless, or even on a long distance drive, I find that I travel into a dream. A word a sound or even a thought can lead me there. And it is mostly pleasant.

But, where is ‘there’? Of course that question can lead into a discussion about life and all that entails. I don’t really want to get into that discussion except to acknowledge ZhuangZi when he asked after his Butterfly Dream: “Am I the dreamer or am I the dream”; I like to think I could be either. I just want to enjoy the dream.

Let the dreams come on. It doesn’t matter where ‘there’ is just as long as in my mind it exists, and it does, either as a place, or space or feeling, and I am there.

I dream more and more often lately. I write less and less often. I even take fewer photographs. And I socialise even less still. Sometimes I feel that I would like to share experiences and dreams with others but ultimately I know I can’t. Their perception would translate the experience differently, so other than sharing and talking about the moment, the moment is still an individual moment and the fullness of the dream can never be shared, only interpreted, even by the dreamer. And sometimes it is easier not to share.

But the dream is always part of the Beauty that surrounds me so I let myself dream – bring it on…

And, the dream is one of the few things you can claim as yours. It can only be your dream, or, are you the dream?

a different perspective

2011-02-25T03:22:00.000+10:30

Would we have a different perspective on life if we went round a roundabout in the opposite direction for once?

I read that we should focus on what we do, be there, be attentive in every action we take however small. It was suggested when putting on our socks we aware of which foot we place the sock on first. Don't let this be a habit and try putting the sock on the other foot first. From day to day I don't remember which foot I placed the sock on first the previous day. Is this because it is an ingrained habit I have developed, or do I truly not remember? Or, should we put the sock onto the same foot each morning as part of our rising ritual? (I suppose as long as we are aware it is a ritual.)

Or, is it all nonsense and we think around anything creating new thoughts and reasons and suggestions. And, does it really matter?

But, I do believe that we should take good long looks at life from different perspectives. We do not have to like the alternate views, just know they are there. For me I do not want life to be one long high walled corridor I travel along. I like the idea of space. A large room, indoor or outdoor, in the cities or in the country and a selection of doors to choose from as I continue along my journey, the path behind me rather than before me. Although, sometimes I do like the path before me, it eases the walk for a while. Also there is some truth in that sometimes, I am afraid to form my own path.

And as I walk I do want Beauty to surround me, or at least for me to respond to that which lies around me with Beauty.

And one day I would like to travel round a roundabout in the opposite direction.

Discourse

2011-01-26T11:33:00.000+10:30

I don’t sleep well lately. I toss and turn, wake up, read, settle down, thoughts flash past, I turn, my eyes wide. I do sleep though, I am not insomniac. I nap a lot also. I find it difficult at times to stay awake and a nap takes over. It can be deep, the nap or simply a pleasant snooze. I truly do not think the nap affects the sleep. Perhaps I just don’t need to sleep as much as I think I do. Perhaps it has to do with fitness, I am not as fit as I used to be.

Dunno.

But, more importantly what troubles me more, is that I think I am carrying anger. Or, some emotion that manifests itself as anger. Not a violent destructive abusive anger, just, well, anger. Why?

Dunno.

I find it difficult to motivate myself to exercise. I find it difficult to find my inner stillness, that which I believe so much in. I find it difficult to hold angry outbursts at some of the strangest reasons to have an outburst. And yet, I think, often I am ‘well’, so those outbursts seem bigger and more often than they perhaps are.

Dunno.

My home, ‘wode xin zai’, I love it. I don’t want to move even though lately at times there comes a feeling of going away again. Going away for some months, years, forever (?) and teach somewhere or do something, but I am sure I won’t (go). ‘Wode xin zai’, my house of harmony; I try to maintain and develop the harmony, and mostly I do.

So why all of the above, I don’t understand. Again,

Dunno.

At this moment though, I am happy, content and letting it all be. At this moment, nothing more, I am…

hello

2011-01-23T21:51:00.001+10:30

I'm afraid I'll die, and never know

how to truly say 'hello'.

I'll never learn of your dreams, and wishes

having never learnt to listen.

I've never opened my eyes, to see

and never seen your Beauty.

The world revolved around no one else

just me.

I'm afraid I'll die, and never know

how wondrous friendship is.

I'll never learn of your dreams, and wishes

and your heartfelt sincerity.

I've never opened my eyes, to see

the Beauty that surrounds.

The world revolved around just me

and now I'm afraid I'll die before I truly say 'hello'.

...There have been and still are so many, many people who are truly saints. Days pass and I don't see it and then, there it is all in front of me - that person has vision, lives virtue, lives true.

I then, rather than get off my arse and do something, full into melancholy, become morose - 'Why am I? Why can't I?' Fucking drivel! Still I get up the next morning...

choices

2010-12-04T11:29:00.007+10:30

The trip began with my usual sense of peace and serenity. Ever grateful and aware of the privileged situation I am in to be able to just hop in my car and drive 450 kms and enjoy the quiet solitude of the Flinders Ranges. It is virtually a yearly pilgrimage for me, and other than on two occasions outside my influence I have always climbed to the top of St Marys Peak. The views are enormous, breathtaking and enables me to re-accustom myself to how small I am in comparison yet still a part of this whole universe.

On the way via Orroroo and Craddock to Hawker, I drove for many kilometres through a locust plague that has hit our southern Flinders Ranges. My windscreen needed constant attention and the front of my car changed into a mass of yellow splattered insects. I was worried about my car overheating as I could faintly smell the cooking of locusts as they sizzled against the radiator and engine block. But no worries, the car drove like a charm. Cleaning it when I returned home was not quite as charming. But even a mess of locusts did not mar my feelings.

The day was quite warm and very muggy as clouds hung about looking as they would drop rain, but didn't. Looking at the clouds I had to wonder not so much how they formed but why they formed, the reason behind them existing. I have been asking 'why' quite a lot lately, and am not closer to knowing. Let it be. Arriving in Wilpena during the heat of the mid-afternoon I set up camp and just sat waiting for the day to end. Kangaroos came out in the late evening and some birds sang their strange goodnights to each other for an interminable amount of time. I went to bed early but kept waking up to their 'hooting' but in their time they drifted off as well.

I was up early the next morning and had set off for my walk/climb by six AM. The weather wasn't even cool at that hour and as I found out later the temperature reached about 37 degrees C. A warm day for climbing amongst dirt and rocks that reflect the sun, and through foliage that pricks the skin. There were many lizards scurrying about, hiding under rocks as I moved past. There were pretty colours displayed by the hardy small plants that managed to survive due to the rains we had this year. They survive the years anyway and show their colours when they can. I also noticed that the native 'black boys' or 'grass trees' (Xanthorrhoea australis) were sprouting green fronds from what appeared to be dead stumps. How life survives in nature and comes into fruition after many dormant years always fascinates me. It is part of my forever asking 'why', and looking at the universe around me in wonderment.

The climb was not too different from other years - actually, it wa

s! I found it a little more difficult. Surely just having another birthday was not really going

to affect my fitness? I did reach the Saddle and had to rest for awhile, nothing unusual, except that I felt as if I was having a minute heart attack. Or at least some form of anxiety attack. I was out of breath, hot and my lower back ached as I placed each foot forward. The rest did me good and as I don't usually take long to recover, and even though I thought of not continuing, I rose and moved forward.

Recently the path from the Saddle to the Peak has been changed into a lo

nger round about route as opposed to the previous path that went up along the Ledge. Although it is now easier though slightly longer, I do prefer the old path.

Now, here I faced a different challenge. Choices. As I followed the path I found that I had strayed. I wasn't lost but over a number of attempts I could not find where the path was, leading to the top. I was confused and felt confronted. My whole reason for climbing was being denied to me. I kept looking but my steps only kept leading to thick clumps of bush. As I tired and struggled to find the way, my heart drained. I kept thinking of home, 'wode xin zai' and how comfortable I am in my later years, having found my place of harmony. My sense of home and being has changed. Where I belong is coming clearer. I knew I had to make a choice and the only choice was to return without reaching the top. I didn't want to fight through thicket and I didn't want to be a victim of getting lost. I sat for a short rest then headed back down.

There was a mixture of feelings rushing inside me. I was angry with myself for not being able to find the path. I was ashamed that I felt that I had failed. I cried. I was sobbing because I made the decision to turn back. And yet, and yet as I progressed (progressed? - yes progressed) I knew I was still on the mountain, still a part of its marvellous terrain. The allure and the attraction of St Marys Peak will never change for me, it will always be there. I am ever grateful that I can still be in its presence; that it remains in photos I have taken and words I have written; that it remains in memories I have, of the different experiences I have enjoyed there; that it will always be a strong influential part of my spirit. I began to feel better, at least emotionally.

Descending, my brian entertained many thoughts. I saw many aspects

of what had happened and what was happening (to me). I made another decision and left my heart there. It was (is) my gift to the mountain, to myself for when I return. Gradually I began to feel lighter and less of a failure. Although I didn't make it to the top, and that doesn't change I didn't feel as if there was

a defeat. It was another experience to store. The path I was on this time obviously wasn't to reach the top, it was for me to come to grips with making a choice. The trek back to camp was tiring and although some of the tiredness came from the heat and activity, most I think came from the emotional happenings. But I recover quickly...

And the respect for the mountain has certainly not diminished. And now the challe

nge is for me to walk away and still maintain respect for myself. My love for the mountain is still very much there; my love for myself - well - yes, it is still there.

believing less and less is enough

2010-11-21T17:54:00.002+10:30

As the days, years roll by I believe in less and less. Outside of what I believe, is for me more about faith than knowledge. Faith, and hope, is there for those who need it. Sometimes I have thought I would liked to have had some - faith and hope. But, faith and hope sit outside of what I know as truth.

My truth, my knowledge is simple. I was born and came into this world that I am conscious of, live each moment at this level of consciousness and one day will die and pass from this consciousness. I choose to call the universal creative element within and around me Dao. What I understand of the writings regarding Dao fit closest to how I wish to live. For how I have lived and am living, I am grateful. I have no idea and do not wish to contemplate the results of being born 'differently' or having made other choices. Living each day by choosing to express Dao and choosing to accept Dao expresses itself through me is enough. I stop at I am. That is all I know, 'I am'. To continue and say I am a - anything at all - a clerk, a sporty person, a writer, yes even a father or lover, is purely describing an ephemeral state. Anything after 'I am' doesn't last, no matter how much I enjoy or feel discomfort with it but I am remains.

For me within the I am, the family I have, the friends I have (they know who they are), whether see and speak or don't see and speak, are enough and I am grateful to them, and for them. Life as I know and experience it, is enough. Some moments are high, some moments are low but mostly I am content; that is enough. And to know that this passing state from birth to death, this level of consciousness is all I truly know, this 'i am' - is enough.

As stated else where in this blog:

Five virtues of the superior person:

simplicity - harmony - wisdom - contentment - a life beyond ambition

Waterfall Gully SA October '10

2010-10-23T22:02:00.004+10:30

Oh what a Saturday night...

2010-10-23T21:25:00.000+10:30

Ohh what a Saturday night to remember, and it is still not over!!!!!

It all began at about 3 PM when I started ironing clothes and watching highlights of the Matildas, Australian women's football team beat the Mexican team and then the Taipei team.

This was then followed by watching the individual championship in women's lawn bowls being held in Queensland. The excitement and I sat there and watched until I changed channels to watch Michael and Michael cook fish on the Nullabour Plain. Why I watch them, I don't know; listening to them really makes me feel BAD. But I sometimes persist.

The news comes on and again I am riveted... Five South Australians die in road crashes. Two women because they were bonnet surfing on a car driven by an unlicensed driver. One fell and the the was run over by an-coming vehicle, again also driven by an unlicensed driver...

Nine of our elite Australian athletes are caught with a banned drug in their system. So much for elitism...

(An Advert; I heat up some left over and have a grandiose evening meal, drink water.)

News continues...

Ex top politicians - comrades - having a war of words. And so on and so on...

So for an hour I then try and read, but keep nodding off, so I try and nap but I keep waking up.

New Tricks starts and I enjoy 50 minutes of viewing.

Now it is not quite 8:30.............

I am on the computer, someone sent me some 'S.Y.B.S.T' - titties....

should I reactivate Facebook

no....

Whisky - yes, yes and yes

It's a fucking long night............and it is still not over!!!!!

The Woman

2010-09-19T19:12:00.000+09:30

Behind the wanderer

walks the Woman, silent

Her presence fills his heart

with courage to continue

keeps his feet grounded

All this and more, She does

so he can walk alone

A Quick Chat

2010-09-18T16:54:00.000+09:30

-After such a long time we are now sitting here, having eaten some breakfast, having told our stories from since we last met, having laughed and cried and content to be by each other’s side if only for a few moments – Will you make love to me?

-Is that all you want, sex?

-No, that is not ALL I want.

I want to be with you as man and wife. I want to be with you till my days reach an end. I want to kiss you goodnight and wish you sweet dreams before you sleep and to wake to you first as I travel from sleep to wakefulness.

I want to walk with you, hand in hand along the beach or a forest trail or as we meander through the city streets

I want you, all of you – but I know, that, I cannot have - so for now, for this moment, I want us to make love for a little while

Before you rise, and dress

And return to your husband

I am at the beach this morning

2010-08-19T19:32:00.003+09:30

I am the beach this morning. It is beautiful. The sea is right up, close and virtually level with the road. A small sparsely plant covered sand dune separating us.

With rain falling, the clouds are grey and are reflected in the ocean’s green grey colour. The greyness punctuated by the waves as they cap in a sudsy white.

The water ripples and creeps up.

In my car I am enclosed, cocooned and protected from the winter elements. Looking through the window, as I park by the sea, is a little like watching television – see it but not be part of it. But I d

on’t want to feel the chill bite of the wind, or the cold or wetness of the rain. Seeing and hearing is enough, for now.

There are some seagulls close by, a flock huddled together with wings ruffled by the wind. Occasionally the screech or ‘ark’ from a gull floats by. There is no absence of life out there. Not only seagulls

but also cyclists and walkers bearing the winter elements pass by. I enjoy watching them, especially the cyclists as

they burn energy pumping their leg muscles struggling against a strong wind. Yet I do admire their spirit, being out there.

I also enjoy sitting and watching a front come in from the ocean. This morning more than one squall blows by. The dark clouds and sea converging as a thick heavy rainfall always travelling, it appears, towards me. As it passes, the temperature drops, the sounds change and beyond the window, the vision is blurred. The wind blows strong enough to rock my car; I admire the cyclists more. However the squalls don’t last long and pass relatively quickly specially from the warm comfort inside the car.

The few trees I see, mostly some type of palm are bent with branches trailing before them; green flags in the wind. The way I feel this morning, the stillness and peace within me, I would like them to be prayer flags, praying for Beauty.

At times a break occurs amongst the clouds as they move and part revealing a

n azure sky. The sun shines brightly and reflects brilliantly off the white caps. The temperature in the car again rises. The wet tarmac of the road also reflects the sun, bright enough to squint and for me to don sunglasses.

A few of the seagulls (where did they go during the squall?) spread their wings and lift off with the wind, hover and glide, then return to ground again and re-huddle.

Sounds and people return. The morning passes and life happens.

I am at the beach this morning. It is beautiful.

I Am

2010-08-15T15:58:00.001+09:30

My muse seems to be on holiday at the moment, just sending bits of post cards every now and then, just to tease me, telling me that words are still there - somewhere. It shall happen again.

Meanwhile I just tread the mill, Tai Ji and meditate. I keep pondering the words of Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj, one of the few gurus I know of who did not go off into the wilderness to become enlightened, but rather 'realised' and continued in his home with wife and children. The words: 'I am'. Not I am this or I am that, but rather shedding all that follows I am and just being, 'I am'.

give accept love

2010-07-16T11:29:00.001+09:30

Three words have been bouncing around in my head.

Give Accept Love.

They came into my head as I pondered what am I (why am I) on this earth, what is my purpose and how do I express my purpose? Of course I have no idea which is why I keep thinking about ‘it’ all, or rather, I have many ideas. There are many other words like Respect and Beauty and so on but these three words, Give Accept Love stuck more so than the others at this time. Yes, I know I should follow the advise of Lao Zi and ‘stop thinking’ but…

Giving plays a major part in life and has a great return. Think about the feeling we get when we give, especially when we give without obligation or expectation. Think about the numerous ways of giving. Giving money, giving time, listening, speaking a few words of praise or welcome, giving a simple thing such as a smile. I am sure you can add and make your own list.

We have an abundance that is thought to be unevenly distributed. An example of this is the inequity between developed and undeveloped countries. Or, the growing economic and material differences between the rich and poor in the same country.

These differences do exist but we can still give. Today I may not have a dollar available to give to the charity or whatever cause comes knocking but I can give a smile. I can demonstrate respect to the person at the door and for the cause. I can turn that person away at least feeling appreciated and feeling good about themselves. I can also give time and be there for others when they ask, or volunteer time to help a charity or humanitarian agency. And when I can afford it, I can give in more material ways. Giving, as long as I give.

It is a cliché but I have found it true, the more I give the more I seem to have to give. And without looking for a return the feeling I receive from truly giving is stimulating.

Accept is also one of the words. Accept in the broadest, all encompassing sense. We accept the universe and what is dealt to us in our daily life. We accept the choices we make as we respond to the moments. The differences between us are accepted and further, we accept each other.

I find it easy to accept that ‘bad’ things happen to me. I find it easy to accept the less perfect aspects of myself. But ‘good’ things do happen and I am successful and do achieve in many things and ways. Yet I find it difficult to accept this ‘good’. To accept that the 'good' that I attract, and give, is to respect you who is giving and the universe that provides. I was told that I should not ask someone not to give to me as I am disallowing that person to express their giving nature. What right have I do to that, rather I should express thanks and gratitude that they think of me, give to me. And if I feel obligated to return the act then I have not accepted the gift in appropriate manner.

Also, the universe is abundant, ever changing and always giving. At times we just do not see it. I need to accept that I am in the position I am today, and accept it without guilt. I appreciate that I can choose to canoe along a meandering quiet backwater, or choose to hike through bush and ranges. I appreciate and accept without guilt that I can choose to embark on a cruise rather than be in a situation where being a boat person is the only slim and distant possible choice I have of remaining alive. I can be grateful, for where I am, for my situation, and am grateful with humility. I can be appreciative of what I have and do rather than complain about the hour of waiting in the airport or the few hours it takes to embark prior to cruising. I am waiting to enjoy an adventure, not for safety of life.

I am grateful that I have health, that I have a spirit that wants to express Dao and appreciates the many manifestations of Dao expressing itself. Seeing storms and wild, woolly weather; seeing splendid sunrises and sunsets; seeing people living the highs and lows of humanity; and seeing my own children and grandchildren becoming and growing into the new and future humanity; seeing, oh, so many things

I appreciate and am grateful feeling Harmony and Beauty. And I accept now, and I accept when this phase of life passes I return to Nothingness, the source of ‘it’ all.

To talk about love, the other in the trio of words, I would like to begin by saying ‘I love you’. My dear friend in China told me that Westerners use the phrase ‘I love you’ too quickly and too freely. I understood what she meant but have never been able to totally agree or disagree with her. The context in saying ‘I love you’ keeps changing, as it should, as nothing in this universe is ever static, so I do not know if it is in fact used too liberally.

As we grow we are taught to experience love as different levels. The love for our parents differs from how we love our partner, from how we love children, from how we love our friends. I see the manner in which we express love as different, and appropriately so, but is it different levels of love? Love is love, totally expressive in itself and again as with accepting and giving, it is all encompassing.

Loving is easy and saying ‘I love you’ is easy, as my Chinese friend said. I love the way nature demonstrates itself to us. Listening to music, reading and watching great films, I love. Good food, playing Tai Ji, being, these things I also love. I love my family and friends, my fellow being in this universe. Forgiving someone, for me, is not difficult and I continue to love them.

My difficulty lies in forgiving myself for my trespasses and loving myself unconditionally, in truly loving those closest to me, loving them unconditionally without wanting to change them to grow in my image. To love them as they are without expectation. To truly see their own life within them, their own manner of expressing Beauty their own way.

I accept that things happen that I do not want to happen and do not want to see them repeated. History and current affairs detail more then enough of these events. Still, I also accept the interconnectedness and oneness of us all. I am the ‘bad’ as well as the ‘good’. But though I accept, I do not need tolerate, and regardless, I still love the ‘I’ of us all.

To love totally without exception and condition, others and myself, and to be aware and mindful of this love is unique. I want to love in giving, to love in accepting, and to love just for loving.

To accept, give and love, we are showing respect, to ourselves, each other and to the universe. Applying these three words or rather, actions, to my life and in my life I am respecting my reason for being. Accepting, giving and loving myself, I am allowing the universe, my universe, to be as it is, and also I am expressing what I believe to be the universe.

The highs and lows of living in this plane, the returning to Nothingness, giving of what we are and what we have, accepting what we are, who we are, what we receive, and loving, absolutely – this is Harmony, this is how we respect life and express Beauty.

May you live in Beauty, may Beauty be with you, and may you create Beauty.

love

2010-05-27T13:11:00.000+09:30

Love.

Something wonderful.

But, rather than spend time feeling it, I have been thinking about it! A few things that initiate the thoughts: I was watching some TV show and when one person said to the other “I love you”, the response was “thank you”. I remember when I loved two women intensely at the same time. I still hold the love I felt when I saw my children being born, and when I see them now, or see my grandchildren. And recently, I was asked by my lover, “Do you want me to love you?”

Love also enters my life in many other ways, through friends, through books and movies, through riding my scooter and loving the experience, and more…

So, if I am going to think about love rather than be still and feel it, what do I think about it?

Ahhh!

To begin with the question asked if I want my lover to love me. The answer should be a simple ‘yes’. But the circuits in my brain twist and turn, light up and flash and travelling at some incredible speed thoughts and thoughts and more thoughts come to mind.

‘Yes’, but qualified. I would like to be loved if the love comes without expectations, without wanting or needing change from me, if it comes without possessiveness and without jealousies. To love someone, truly, I do not want them to change, rather I want to see them grow and develop through this life we lead. I don’t want to possess them or feel jealous if they enjoy the company of others. I don’t need nor want them to explain their lives to me, if they do then it is their choice and I am grateful that they have. I am grateful that in some way they allow me to love them. Of course there are times when my love is not returned, but that doesn’t take away the love I have for them. They are their own agent, they are free to receive and respond to what they choose. Love should rise out of my own contentment with this life. It should be given freely because I want to share my contentment.

Is it the beautiful landscape and nature’s way about me that brings contentment or is it the contentment from my inner stillness that allows me to appreciate the Beauty around me. It is from this contentment that I believe love flows, from where I believe love is shared. I think of the analogy that one candle can light many flames and remain alight itself. Love can elicit more and more love and remain strong in its originality.

The brains still moves and thoughts and thoughts and thoughts continue. How is it then not possible, or perhaps culturally not permissible to love more than one person at the same time? Of course it is possible and we should be encouraged to continue to love, not stop with one person as if she or he becomes a possession. I can choose how to demonstrate my love but that is my choice, our choice. Just allow me to love, allow yourself to love. Acknowledge the love you are given, say “’Thank you”, and be grateful when your love is accepted.

(By the way, I do love my lover and yes, I do like her loving me.)

And when we love, include ourselves. The adage rings true to me: ‘how can I love others if I cannot love myself’. Surely as a creation of the universe and as a person trying to express the beauty of the universe, I too, am worthy of love. I need the flame within me to be alight before I can light other flames. If the flame within me is not there how can I see to light the others? I need to be the source of love for love to grow.

I believe that my inner stillness is the source; I just need to let it be and follow it with my heart and with virtue and without expectation. But experiences can also touch and draw love out of you. After all love is forever there, we just don’t always see or feel it. We get caught up in the head or in too much busyness to feel it. One awe-inspiring loving experience was seeing my children being born, what an episode! so much love felt. I didn’t think about it, I was just there experiencing, letting the love grow and flow. And the love extended to everyone in the room, and beyond.

Love also allows us to enjoy simple pleasures. Eating good food, walking along the beach or on a trail through the hills, reading or watching a good move, listening to music and lately for me, the pleasure of being on my scooter. And it is all the more beautiful when I am aware of the love and joy that emanates from me. It happens, and it is, in those times that I am content, the times I make the opportunity to live from my contentment

Yes, I think about love and possibly waste time doing so. But I do feel it and I do try to express it in my daily actions (and thoughts). I do try to express the Beauty that is, and be love.

And slowly it just is.

Had I filled your shoes...

2010-05-25T21:48:00.004+09:30

Had I filled your shoes and walked in them, what choices would I have made?

Having travelled or rather lived in China for a while, I wonder what my life would have been like if I was actually born there rather than being a visitor. But, I live in Adelaide, many kilometres away and also culturally very distant. I could wonder for an eternity and not know nor ever come up with an answer.

There were many experiences and meeting with different people and I spent a lot time in my head putting myself in their shoes. I even placed myself closely, intimately into the lives of some of those I met but I was always to remain myself, of course, and see their lives through my perspective and interpretation.

Obviously it was not only people that intrigued me but also, many sights I came across fascinated me. The shoes were a delight to find. When I saw the shoes I found myself charmed by them. They belonged to some Buddhist monks although I saw a very similar pair of home woven sandals belonging to a boatman as I travelled on the Cháng Jiáng He, (Yangtze River). He lived on the river and travelled constantly from Chongqing to Shanghai and back.

There are many like him as the river has a high stream of boat traffic. The river itself, from its narrow beginnings to its extremely wide mouth, flows fast with a tremendously strong current. From the boat the view is very scenic and beautiful. Natural vistas, temples built into the mountainsides, the Three Gorges with sheer drops of river banks, (although I am not sure what the Three Gorges Dam has created by its construction), major cities built on the river banks and much, much more for the eyes to take in and absorb. Could I have walked in his shoes and be amongst these sights daily?

Many things fascinated me. I used to sit on the raised bricked flowerbed outside my work place beside the entrance gates and watch the world go by. I would sit literally for hours. I would never tire of watching, gazing staring – I would absorb it all. And it was these hours that gave me an idea of where I was living at the time; a partial conception of life around me and my part in it. Perhaps I would never totally understand all that was happening, could never walk in others’ shoes but I was experiencing it. Memories, images return to me and feelings of that time are again evoked. Talking to the students who were so much in love; talking to the proud old man, without a common language between us, he asking me to take his photo so he could have it displayed at his funeral; becoming involved with ZX and her life. All these affected me. Seeing the different sights pass me; the cart loaded with hay; watching the couple make noodles; seeing the motor bike being repaired on the sidewalk shop; people loading the bus; the small pagoda with the leaning stack on top. So many, many things…

Throughout this time, and before and since, it has been my choice to sit and watch. I don’t know what choices I would have made had I been able to fill the other shoes and as I said before, I will never know. And it does not matter. These moments, all these moments I have enjoyed and now, still, I chose to sit and enjoy from my own shoes.

Watching in Xian Yang, China

2010-05-25T21:12:00.001+09:30

Watching, in Xian Yang

(10 May 2008)

Sitting on the edge of a retaining brick wall containing a dried out, unused flower box next to the main fr

ont entrance of my work and living quarters in Xiang Yang, China, I watch myself watching the world go by.

When I think about it now, edge, has many meanings for me and sometimes I think I live only on the edge, never committing myself fully to anything. But then again nothing really keeps my attention, or motivates, for me to commit fully. Well, not quite true, Dao does.

Anyway there I sit on the retaining wall watching myself watching the world go by. On the ot

her side of the gate sits an old man who wears either his Mao jacket or his green army coat, all three,

he and his coats have seen better days. And he always wears his cap covering his bald pate. He looks old, maybe he isn’t; and to me he looks exotic with his lined tan face and chin covered by a white, not grey, moustache and goatee. From him I always felt there emanated a sense of dignity and calmness. He buys garbage, sells it and somehow makes a living.

I watch him a lot as he buys bottles and what appear to be rags and all sorts of stuff. A little each day I exchange nods and short smiles. Although lacking in confidence I do try out some of my spoken, broken Chinese; he smiles and nods in return. As I become more confident with him, and myself. I take his photo and later give him a copy. His body language and speech express a huge thank-you as if no one has ever taken his photo or given him a gift before. It makes me feel good and our nods and smiles become more animated and friendlier.

On the side of the street, in the gutter at edge of the footpath there is also another small enterprise happening. This time it is an open air bicycle repair shop. With China’s many bicycles there is always a need for some repair. I have often used this entrepreneur for my bicycle repairs, puncture repairs and even for just pumping my tyres to the right pressure. On occasions the bicycle repair man and the garbage man sit together and chat. I understand some of the words I hear, and asking for further information from my friends that know them, learn a little about their very eventful colourful and often hard lives. So many experiences that I can’t even imagine. I admire them, these old men who appear to take life as it comes seemingly without complaint. They have seen and still see so much, so much change, yet still smile and appear virtuous. Perhaps they live what I consider to be ‘wu-wei’. So much I can learn from them, even by just watching and feeling or sensing.

One day, again as I sit and watch the world expressing itself on the street before me, my friend ZX comes and sits with me for a while. The old man rises from his small wooden stool where his bum usually sits most of the day and approaches us. ZX interprets and amazes me with his request. Here, when the people die, a photo of the living person who has passed away is used in the burial ceremony. The old man wanted me to take his ‘living’ photo so it could be used in his ritual. I did feel it was an honour to be asked but explained to him my photographic skills couldn’t be relied upon for such an important photo. He was insistent, even wanting to pay me. He said something to the effect that I had to be the one to take the photo. I agreed to take it and we made arrangements for the following day to have our photo shoot.

The next day arrives as does he, moustache and beard combed and his Mao jacket buttoned yet loose over his thin frame. He wants the photo taken there where he works, standing at attention, arms stiffly by his side and no cap. To me he looks different, but to him, that posture was what he wants as his ‘living’ photo.

I shot a reel of film, had all the photos printed and let him chose the one he wanted. It was not one I would have chosen, but as I said, it was his ‘living’ photo. Subsequently I went and had the print enlarged, which I then presented to him in a frame. Again his gratitude is tremendous. XZ later told me the old man was very happy and impressed, and felt that his death ceremony would be a good event as he would have a big photo. Not too many of the poorer people could afford to have portraits, especially enlarged ones. It meant a lot for him, for me it was neither inconvenient

nor expensive but mostly I enjoyed doing something for someone, and seeing the smile of receiving.

Watching the world go by I marvel at some of the sights. Bicycles, tricycles, hand or bullock pulled carts as well as the scooter, car or truck pass by and amaze me with what and how loads can be carried. The tricycles have a trailer-type tray between the two rear wheels. I suppose it could be seen as a pedal ‘ute’ (pick-up truck). Anything can be carried: people, animals, refrigerators or bricks – what ever needs to be transported and nothing is too heavy or can’t be made to fit.

One day I saw a haystack that appeared to dwarf the stacks I have seen in our Australian farms, being transported on a tricycle. Another time I saw a refrigerator laying across the rear carrier of a bicycle. The rider was peddling heavily while a man, who appeared to be the purchaser of the refrigerator and apparently had no money left or perhaps did not wish to pay other transport fees, was walking behind, keeping the load steady.

And yes, at times I see mishaps and people cursing each other as no one wants to take the blame for any accident. It is fun, at least for me as an observer.

Around the corner from where I sit, and where I pass by on my strolls is a market. There is also a back yard aluminium / tin (?) utensil making enterprise. Actually the work isn’t done in the back yard but rather in the alley-way or street. It’s fascinating to watch, to see a skilled artisan with few tools create a mould and make hand basins and other metal utensils. Wearing his blue tunic he squats there in the street absorbed with what he is doing. He pays no heed to the pass-byers or to this ‘lao-wei’ who stands and watches, and takes photos. He is one-mindedness with his project. I envy his ability and again realise there is so much I need to, no, want to learn and experience. There is so much I need to (and again, want to) discipline within myself. But I am on my (the) way.

Who I assume to be the wife of this skilled worked sits in the doorway of what I assume to be their small possible one roomed home. I use the word home rather than house as I feel there is a sense of homeliness. This is opposed to the times I see a many roomed house on sprawling property that lacks that sense of homeliness. Anyway, the wife tends to the fire the artisan needs and helps with the casting of the moulds. She also feeds and brews tea, which is poured into a glass jar kept constantly nearby and constantly sipped on.

I continue to wander.

The market is different from the ones I am used to here in Australia. You find there is particularly in the morning and evening, usually a row of farmers squatting on the footpaths selling some of their produce; potatoes, tomatoes, corn or what-ever is in season. The vegetables are laid on a burlap sack that is placed as a mat on the ground. They have hand held scales and weigh the amount of produce you purchase and charge you accordingly. It didn’t take long for me to understand the value of money against the quality of the produce. Many arguments take place between buyer and seller. Usually I just pay the price that I am (over)-charged. But I like to watch the antics of the others as each side maintains their right not to back down.

Anyway, this market is different from the small individual sellers. Along either side of the street there is a row of tricycles with their trays facing the road, and filled with many different produce. Not only vegetables and fruit or trays of eggs, but also live animals; chickens with feet tied together and looped over a rail, live fish swimming, circling in a bucket or hand basin, piglets and even pigs waiting to be bought, and in cages there are many and varied other animals and birds, not all to be bought for eating, but mainly so.

Chickens are killed, plucked and gutted so you know what you are buying and taking home is fresh. The blood is collected and kept for – well, I don’t really know, but nothing is wasted. Butchers tend trays with recently killed pigs and goats. Some of the carcass’ lay across the tray while some hang from cross beams built onto the tray for cover, but still open to the dust and weather. With extremely sharp knives and deft handling, chunks of meat are cut and sold.

Some trays hold not produce but rather pottery or bric-a-brac that is sold. Or sandals, shoes, again anything. And it is all so interesting.

At some point I will leave this place where I sit on the edge of a retaining brick wall containing a dried out, unused flower box next to the main front entrance of my work and living quarters in Xiang Yang, China. I watch myself watching the world go by and know there is so much I am grateful for and still so much for me to learn as I continue on my walk with beauty.

Adelaide Zorba

2010-05-16T11:36:00.002+09:30

Travelling into the city in peak traffic along a road passing through a very Greek suburb I was pleasantly entertained. I had to stop for a couple of light changes before proceeding through a busy intersection and found my self out front of a Greek music CD store. I was on was on my scooter and open to the experience rather than being enclosed in a car and looking through the windscreen as though watching a television.

There was music, loud coming from a few speakers set outside the store door on the pavement. Next to them, sitting on an old wooden chair, was a man, perhaps in his late 30’s or early 40’s. Age doesn’t matter really. He was very conspicuous dressed in his red and white tracksuit, zipped to the neck and wearing leather-like laced shoes. He had no hair, a baldpate. In his hands he was playing a Bouzouki.

The background music must have been on some sort of Karaoke set up playing out the rhythm while the fingers of this person’s left hand ran up and down the fret board and his right hand picked a clear, brisk dancing melody. The sound was alive, wonderful real music. As he was playing he was oblivious of the world beyond. He and his music were his world. I felt the tonal waves, the sound moving through my body. It brought a smile to my being, it allowed me to feel joy, and it altered my state of standing waiting for traffic, to being enthralled with the experience.

Knowingly or not, this man was giving and I was fortunate enough to be aware that I was receiving. This is love. I am grateful that I am aware that love comes in many forms, that the universe expresses itself through us, that people express the joy of living, the joy of the universe in many wondrous ways.

Be aware that love is. In one of his discourses, Osho said (my paraphrasing and understanding), that one bank of the river is birth, on the other is death and in-between flows life, which is a search for love. I like this analogy. Too often we get stuck on a sand bank, or try to swim against or even with the current. Understand Dao and let go – float, and be aware.

I would like to thank this person who gave me a gift of love. I would like to thank you for taking time to read this.

Thank you

And as always, walk in Beauty.

candle

2010-05-12T20:03:00.004+09:30

I remember reading some time ago how a candle can light many other candles and still keep its own flame burning. It was related to life and love.

I liked the analogy and certainly have always remembered it, although not during the times I perhaps should have. I also remember an ex boss of mine saying how ‘would have, could have’ and ‘should have’, have no place in the reports we used to write. Just say it how it is and what will make it ‘right’.

I want to be a candle that lights up other candles and still remain burning. I want to be that person who shares my laughter and my compassion. I want to be responsible for the choices I make rather than I ‘should have’ made a different choice. I want my energy to give you energy. I want to express the glory of the universe so you can see it, and even if you do see it without me as a catalyst, then I want us to enjoy it together. We can share our experiences; give gratitude together.

I want to love you and you and you, each and all, a different you. We are the same consciousness, a manifestation of the same eternal universal Dao, how could I not love you.

One candle can light many, and those candles in turn can light many. I continue to keep alight and light. I continue to remind myself I am a light, and to be responsible in the choices, and for the choices I make.

I choose love.

My love, my compassion is for you, all you, you all.

May we all walk in Beauty

practising compassion

2010-05-11T19:25:00.000+09:30

So, he sits, in his white room. And he thinks and tries to understand.

Compassion. Each day he prays for Beauty, for himself, for others. From Beauty compassion follows. The days pass. Times though as he finds himself acting, thinking, speaking, moving, compassion doesn’t appear to be with him. Beauty is lost. A sense of failure and frustration appears instead.

It is strong the belief in him to follow the path of Beauty. Perhaps too strong, if that can be. How to let life, how to let Beauty flow through him? How to show compassion, no, how to be compassion!

On occasions he can understand what this is all about, this living in Beauty, expressing Dao. Yet, at times he senses himself as a failure, failing to express this compassion, failure to be compassion. He asks for forgiveness. And then on other occasions he is filled with Beauty and full of gratitude for that which he is and has received, then, again, a sense of not living compassion.

He sits in his white room. He thinks (too much), so he ventures out and practices compassion, and practices Beauty, and practices…

My Choice

2010-04-29T19:31:00.000+09:30

My latest question: Are we an expression of Dao, Or, Do we express Dao?

Whichever I choose, I choose. I am free to choose. I was born, free to choose.

I choose to create myself and express Dao as I create, and take responsibility for the creation.

I am an expression of Dao, yes, but Dao does not express me, it does not make me who or what I am – it is my freedom to choose, my choice how I express and what I express.

I choose to express Dao.

Of course being truly at one with Dao I wouldn’t even ask the question!

photos

2010-03-08T11:30:00.003+10:30

emotions - fresh and new

2010-03-08T11:05:00.002+10:30

where

in which recess can the mind wander

seeking its freedom

along electric trails and synapses

flashes of realization sought

It began with a thought, then, erupted into an emotion. Perhaps better than an absence of emotions, I don’t know.

But it is interesting how a thought, appearing from nowhere, sifting the mind can create an emotion which can develop into a physical sensation; tears of joy as well as tears of happiness.

From nothingness, an expression formed. The nothingness is infinite while the expression is finite lasting only an ephemeral amount of time. Often we hold onto the emotion, giving it power, extending it beyond its allocated limited time. Observing the emotion, reacting to it, we give it a reality outside its original expression. The expression has passed yet we maintain the emotion, again and again. We react from the emotion again and again, continuously giving it life, reliving it.

And usually it is an emotion we do not want to revisit that we do revisit.

Fresh and new; accept each emotion, there is a reason for them. Give attention to its allocated time span, respond to it and then, move on. A fresh new emotion will be there soon enough, a fresh new expression will come into creation soon enough.

The past emotion does not need to exist unless we want it or let it. We make a choice; to acknowledge it and revisit it or, acknowledge it, let it go and move on – experience the new and fresh.

And with each new expression – walk in Beauty…

Reflections of Mumbai

2010-01-08T21:48:00.000+10:30

I have just read my Mumbai Mumbler, descriptions of my three months in India. It has been on my mind to print the chapters into a book. A few of the people who received the writings as I send them from India back to Australia have suggested they make good reading. As I was reading them again tonight I must admit I enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them, and enjoyed the memories the words brought back.

Certainly I did experience a world different from that living here in Adelaide, Australia. It brought back memories of people I shared time and space with. It again engenders the feeling of gratitude that I seem to feel so often and want to continue to feel. The experience did affect me and although I am living a life totally different and absorbed in the culture that surrounds me, I know I sense and respond to challenges differently. I have grown from the experience. I intend to keep growing.

Acceptance of life and your status as it is. No need to look beyond the present yet rising to the choices and events that are presented to you. As you respond so will your situation in life. And how you respond will determine tomorrow. Life will continue with or without you. This is part of what I learned or was emphasised in my stay in Mumbai, India. I try to remember and live each moment accordingly and with intent.

It is hot today, 41 degrees C it reached but without the humidity of Mumbai. I have drunk beer because I had no gin to pour into my watermelon. I think of GG and Paul. I remember the bus trip where I was happy in my running shoes alongside large mama and skinny kids in the bus with me. I see the colours on the truck; black and yellow riccies; the people sleeping on the medium strips or crapping on the footpath in the early AM; the cardboard shanties with TV antennas and power leached from the street poles carrying the electricity. I see the smiles of a people living their lives completely different from mine in many aspects. And yet just as I, they rise each AM and make a choice on how to face the day regardless of situation. The choice to smile at a stranger or not. And I smile as I journey back in my thoughts and mind.

The heat here doesn't worry me, I accept because it is what it is. I enjoy my memories but don't long for those times because they are what it was. Life goes on. I am better for the experience and I believe those who have shared my memories may have, if not benefited, enjoyed the telling.

Perhaps I will put the Mumbai Mumbler into a book.

As I ended my chats:

May Ganesh smile upon you

and as I end them now:

May Beauty be with you

The 'new' year

2010-01-04T21:13:00.000+10:30

How do we begin a 'new' year? 01/01/... A smile and a wish; hope for peace and prosperity. New year resolutions chorused in with song and cheer, for some anyway.

But does it have 'real' significance? Is life on the first of January going to change in any particular way? Are we going to be aware of these changes if they do happen without our intention? What I know and understand of our western new year there is no correlation with the phases of the moon or any other natural event. As I see it, the year is made up of varying days in each month with a catch up day every four years. There is no cyclical occurrence that I can see. Also there doesn't appear to be any alignment with seasonal or other change. Politics and general acceptance by the different countries over many years have placed the Julian calendar with its Gregorian adjustment into the forefront of date telling, particularly the beginning of each year on our planet. And still the seasons shift out of array.

To me at least, there is nothing special about 01/01, no real significance other than what has been given to us to believe in, or what we ourselves make of it. There is no reason other than commonality amongst all why the first day of each year should not be for example 28/11. I can understand how being on the same date system makes for ease in most matters of business but a special celebration for 01/01 fails to enthuse me. With the Lunar new year on the other hand, I see some merit as the new year springs into being with a new moon. Spring a celebration of the new, and renewal of life.

Birthdays, now, again to me, they also have meaning. A celebration of when we came into physical existence, manifesting as a creation of the universe. But should we not celebrate our birth day every day and praise the universe? Each day we have an opportunity to live life, to experience all that we can and give back to the universe by giving to ourselves and others.

To love each day from our contentment and stillness.

But, we do celebrate as a humanity 01/01. So, to you peace, health, prosperity and awakening this coming year, every day and every year hence.

Our Intention

2009-12-31T17:06:00.003+10:30

Hope, do we live in hope and pray to god that he will give us want we want, as we reach out to take from him. Only he can make our lives better, only he can render onto us that which we hope for. Hope outside ourselves.

Do we live with intention. Choose each step, where and when we place it. Each step the first step of our continuous journey. Each step a step forward to the waiting universe. Each step our doing and sometimes as we learn possibly an undoing but at least each step is our step. And each step taken with intention defined from the stillness within us rather than us residing in the despair of hope.

And

As we move and chose to move we do so without aggression, without forging, destroying, trying to be better than… We sense where we are and our intention is to be part of that that surrounds us, fills our spirit and awakens us. We move ourselves, twist, turn, lie on our backs, our bellies and view the world, seen and unseen, from new perspectives. We listen intensively hearing the voices without and within, and discern. We feel tactilely and intuitively. Using all our senses we intent our path and flow with it. No aggression, no forcing, only the power of the intention alone.

Seeking truth it is atonement of ourselves that we achieve. In truth we give, return to the universe that which is the universe. From stillness, moving with intention we achieve this and allow the divine within us be the eternal, infinite divine that is.

Living with intention there is no need for hope. We listen to the divine within us expressing itself from the eternal void, the stillness that is; we the expression.

Reflections at 56

2009-11-28T08:58:00.000+10:30

I feel the aches and pains in my body a little more these days. The little nuisances appear a little more often and take a little longer to leave. This is the first year in a long time that I have not run 10 km on my birthday. Although it would take me a little longer at a slower pace, I believe today I could still run it, but I actually feel no need to run today.

Yes, I am running a little slower and run less distance and I accept that. You see, I feel I have less to run away from, in speed and distance. I am content more often in the here and now. But, not only content, I am happier than I have been for a long time. It has taken a while for me to admit I am happy – I am afraid I will lose it, that happiness. If so – so be it – but at least I am open to it, open to that sharing intimate love. That love where I want to do and be for my lover. I allow it to blossom. It has been a while, a long while.

This happiness complements the inner contentment I feel. My contentment in my being at one; the happiness in my giving to one. This happiness may ebb and surge through time but I see nor feel any reason for it to leave. Each day I add to the love; I love her more. That is my happiness further to my contentment.

And further to the pains and aches, more than the love – or is it part of the totality of love – my mind is still open. Open to changes, to novelty and open still to passions. And as my body sometimes functions a little slower than 30 or 20 years ago, sometimes my mind forgets or loses focus. Sometimes it needs more sleep than before to recover and awaken brightly, but all is good, my mind is alive.

Today as I meditate, as the universe continues to express itself, as Dao manifests itself, and I as an expression cultivating my Way, living in Beauty, am humbled. Each day I cultivate, through meditation, through Tai Ji, through awareness and forgiveness. Some days are easier than other days, some days appear to have more meaning than other days but each day I am grateful.

At 56 I am content, and, I am also happy. To you as an aspect of who I am, I am thankful. For a life in Dao I am thankful. And again each day, today particularly, I am grateful. This day, now, I AM

Oh, and a very happy birthday (to me).

Haiku for K

2009-11-28T08:57:00.001+10:30

We may live a dream

But the Beauty in this dream

Is the you and me

27/11/2009

Standing Alone

2009-11-28T08:55:00.000+10:30

Some days, standing alone, outside or anywhere, I feel as if I am but a speck in the universe. A mote of dust reflecting light as it passes through time and space. Although recognising I am a part of the whole of creation I still feel a sense of aloneness. Not loneliness - I can be alone and enjoy my own company and when I don't enjoy my own company, I can sleep. Not loneliness, but alone. Alone in the sense that I am responsible for my intentions.

Yet, within this responsibility I am aware of the harmony of the universe, how everything has its place and falls in place. And at times I am aware of my place in this realm. When all is in harmony, Beauty is the result. When my intentions align with the Way of the universe, Beauty is the result.

There are times when life appears to be out of synch and Beauty during these times seems to diminish. My intention then is to become still and return the focus into regaining the balance that determines harmony. From the inner stillness I focus on forgiving, and giving. Forgiving myself, forgiving others and forgiving on behalf of others; accepting responsibility and acknowledging what happens in this, my realm of consciousness. Giving, to others and myself, in order to regain harmony. Accepting that that which may not be beautiful can become beautiful. Knowing that in the stillness contentment lies and from there Beauty arises.

I can be alone, I am alone, that speck, and yet within, the whole universe flows. And without, the same universe exists. Harmony is maintained within and without, part of the totality, just as the motes of dust, complete in themselves, reflecting light bounce and swirl around each other, also part the whole.

Some days, standing alone, outside or anywhere, I feel as if I am the universe.

20/11/2009

Tuesday morning musing

2009-11-12T10:41:00.000+10:30

It is interesting how one can wake very, very early in the morning remembering that a glass bottle of water was placed in the freezer the night before. And then one hopes, (hope the last evil left in Pandora’s box) that science is not always right. But alas, one does have to spend Tuesday AM clearing glass from the freezer.

Now, all situations can provide lessons. Forget drinking water; only put gin in the freezer, it doesn’t freeze and when you wake up you usually have no memory.

Death will come

2009-10-22T10:44:00.000+10:30

I have stopped racing towards death. It will come in its own time, and manner. Let it come. I spend each day preparing, ready to receive it; I spent each moment as a special moment, there is no mundane.

Throughout the day I face challenges that help me prepare. Challenges I cannot change, but I can adapt myself to flow with them. And, not all moments are challenges. Serenity, beauty, harmony also enter my day. These periods provide respite allowing time to refresh, to strengthen my true self.

I look forward to each day. Contentment, health, abundance reside in the stillness that is the essence of me. Without obsession but with love I cultivate and act with intention.

Death will come; I am prepared.

Doubt

2009-10-14T19:44:00.000+10:30

I find it interesting that as my certainty about life issues grows, I find I have more doubts. And I have absolutely no understanding why my doubts grow. All is fine, all is going well, and yet, doubt.

Perhaps it is fear. Fear of not knowing what lies ahead. Or, perhaps it is that I have been brought up to believe that I don't deserve being fine or content. Suffering is what the world is made up off; how can I live without suffering? So, if all is going well then something is wrong or something will happen and the crash will come, soon.

I don't know.

Anyway, let the doubts be there, I am learning to use them to strengthen my intention. For me I know that there is no ultimate certainty, other than death from this level of consciousness, but I still need to live in this level and I want to live it with intention, fully.

If my new certainties are not realised and with hindsight my doubts were correct, so be it. I will rise and I will still be ahead. (Without doubt) my path will always be at my feet, one new step at a time.

But some certainties will manifest. They will become evident; natural expressions from my stillness, from the stillness of the universe. Perhaps not certainties as I envisaged but, as Dao intends.

Allowing the doubt, I live in Stillness, I love with intention.

it’s been only a few days

2009-10-02T11:56:00.004+09:30

it’s been only a few days

but i see you

inside my head

and i feel you

within me.

it is warm

this feeling

strange, and unaccustomed am i to it

this feeling

i see you

reach out, touch

and hold you

and now, feel you

i smile

because

many tomorrows

now, before us

it’s been only a few days

(hola K!)

Seeking Love

2009-10-02T11:34:00.000+09:30

Seeking through the corridors of the internet, looking for love behind the bits and bytes all I find is 01010101, infinitely. Still looking, this time through the reds of wine or bubbles in the flute (but never from the measured double or triple shots of whisky), the romance eventually fails, flat. And yet, and yet it is always there, love is. All I need do is stretch out my hand, close my eyes, tie myself to an exotic dancer’s pole and listen. Listen to the instructions as Odysseus listened to the sirens with restrained body and captivated senses. And listen, listen as a disciple sitting cross-legged at his master’s feet, listens to his sage, drinking each word deeply, deeply with emotion. And not only to listen to these words but hear them. Truly hear them, truly hear and be led by them, truly allow them to settle within, inside my heart, filling my belly, coursing through my veins, spilling and infusing into my soul. A desire, a passion, a gift, a release. I clear the receptors in my ears, in me, and wait. I sit in stillness, within me, and wait. I allow myself and wait and wait for the elusive totality of love. And wait. I know it is there, here. 5683

A difference between thought and action.

2009-09-27T11:58:00.000+09:30

And again I come across another saint.

For sometime I have been attending the gym most Saturday mornings. Using the treadmill upstairs I look down into the stadium where youngsters are taught roller-skating. It helps pass my hour away.

There is one family, a mother who brings her two sons. The sons are aged about eight years and eleven or twelve, and both, particularly the younger, have probably ‘special’ needs. I think the younger is autistic but I don’t know enough to be sure, and what would I know anyway.

The mother mostly spends her time holding the younger son’s hand and walking around the side of the rink with him. It appears that he needs to touch or hold something all the while. If the mother leaves him to attend to the older boy, the younger creeps so slowly, never releasing hold from the rink barrier. Returning to him they hold and hug, sometimes he in tears, and then he is persuaded to start rolling again. The mother appears older than, I think, her years. At times I think she too may have had or has her own special needs. (What I have written may sound offensive or whatever but it is not meant to be so. It is the only way I know to describe what I see.)

Looking at this scene I have thoughts, many thoughts. I do not judge or feel more privileged, nor do I feel a better person. Do I feel more ‘normal’? I dislike the word normal. (And anyway what is normal about running indoors on a treadmill for one hour in the same spot going nowhere!). Mostly my heart and thoughts (and feelings) go out to them. What can I do?

And so… This week a young man, slightly ‘bogan’ in looks and dress, (maybe I do judge, eh?) rollers into the rink. Passing the older son, acknowledging him, he ruffles his hair. Having never seen him before I look and wonder what he is doing there.

He goes to the younger lad and after talking to the mother manages to coax the boy away from her. Holding the lad by both hands he begins to skate backwards, leading the boy. After a few metres the boy wants to go back to his mother, again a huge hug happens; then, again she manages the lad to be led by the stranger (stranger to me that is). This back and fro’ing continues for a while, and each time the distance away from the mother is greater, until a lap of the rink takes place. The boy doesn’t smile but neither does he cry and the mother showers hugs and love, encouraging him to continue.

After some time the speed of the skating increases. There is even some twisting, swinging of the arms from side to side in a dance motion. Throughout, the boy releases one hand, picks his nose then holds the other’s hand again. This continues most of the morning, a different hand each pick. The man shows no evidence of aversion, just continues to hold his hands and continues skating. At one time the man needs to squat and retie the lad’s laces on his skates. The young boy places a hand on his guide’s head and keeps it on there the whole time, even as the guy is rising. It is an interesting picture to see the small arm outstretched maintaining contact.

Just before the end of the session the main group are doing some sort of skaters samba line, snaking around the rink. Without too much effort the man leads the younger to join the line and slowly he does. Then, as they finish, the man asks the instructor if the boy could lead the group in the samba line. I have always admired the patience and methods I have observed from the instructor; of course she agreed. The man as always, skating backwards, led the boy with the whole troupe, hands on waists of those in front, behind the lad.

I did not see a smile on the boy, but there was emotion on his face, something in his eyes, and the hug he gave his mother at the end was truly beautiful. That morning was an experience so simple but so full of – I dunno – the only word that comes to mind is fellowship, respect for another – true brotherly love.

The man smiled at the boy, waved goodbye and skated off. An hour of his time and I am sure a wonderful experience for the boy and his mother. I wanted to go and shake his hand, even just touch his hand, say something endearing but he had gone.

So, there I jog with my thoughts wondering what can I do. And there before me someone wanders in and just does it. Who is a saint if not he?

I no longer wish to suck!

2009-09-20T15:40:00.001+09:30

I no longer ask 'what is the point?'; there is no 'point'. I no longer search for the 'raison d'etre'; there is no 'reason for being'. Looking around me all there is is just what it is, nothing more and no reason for it at all.

I stopped searching when I realised that as there is nothing to search for, the search itself is futile. Not fertile. Only sperm and ova are fertile, sometimes, and life is spawned. Life, increasingly mass produced for no reason.

Of course I am not saying that life is not beautiful or that life has not given me fantastic experiences, or as many negatives, but (for what reason?). I look at where I am today, at this moment. I see nothing, and far from stillness, I feel emptiness.

I let others believe in their validity to suck air.

I no longer wish to suck!

And comfortably, serenely, I drift away...

Meditation

2009-09-12T14:05:00.000+09:30

As light faded and night descended, I stood in that in-between place. Clouds obscured the sunset as I looked west over the gulf waters. The wind died down and the water quietly lapped the sand. All around me was becoming still, sounds were subdued, movement calmed and yet, in that stillness I could feel power.

Thirteen hours and a bit earlier, it was the opposite. I had stood in the same spot, only, I watched the moon set into the ocean, as night transformed into day. And again that stillness and that power.

I have no wish to do anything other than feel that ambience to remind me I am, life. It is not a place to react; it is that place between stimulus and response, that place where the universe, or cosmos is created and the path of my life journey begins. Each day the time in-between reveals my path and reminds me of my journey. It is there in that space where I am my true and original self.

And, when I meditate I sit in that same space. Entering meditation I am part of night descending and remain until wakening, then watching light rise. In meditation I allow the power of the stillness envelop me. Without attachment to it I feel it, it fills me. I return to the meditation, to the stillness.

My journey (my path, my way) begins with each step, each sunrise and sunset, with each meditation.

This change of day into night and night into day will happen again, and again. The stillness and power found in that place and time in-between will happen again, and again. And then one day leaving this level of consciousness I acknowledge, I return to, become, the original, eternal void.

?

2009-08-26T19:11:00.001+09:30

What can I really be sure of, other than, I was born, I will die, and each moment is as it is.

A way of living is living the Way

2009-07-18T13:13:00.001+09:30

'The meaning of life is found in completely dissolving into the process of living and not in specific goals.'

from Illustrated Heart Sutra. Interpreted by Tsai Chih Chung

The Way itself is the goal.

"Dao means the Way - they don't talk about the goal at all. They say: "The goal will take care of itself; you need not worry about the goal" If you know the Way, you know the goal, because the goal is not at the very end of the Way, the goal is all over the Way - each moment and each step it is there. It is not that the Way ends when you arrive at the goal; each moment, where ever you are, you are at the goal if you are on the Way, To be on the Way is to be at the goal. Hence they don't talk about moksha, nirvana, enlightenment - no, not at all. Very simple is their message: You have to find the Way.

from Tao - The Pathless Path. Osho

Joshu asked Nansen: "What is the Way?" Nansen replied: "Everyday mind is the Way."

Joshu went on later to say: "When I am hungry I eat; when I am tired I sleep."

There is no difference on the path between master and pupil, except perhaps that the master 'knows' this.

from Zen and the Sutras. Albert Low

We are all manifestations from and of the great eternal emptiness.

Secrets

2009-07-02T15:00:00.001+09:30

I think it is fun to share a secret with one (or more). You have shared an experience together and only you two know about it. It remains kept between only you two. The experience may be a ‘one of’ thing never to be repeated. Perhaps you may never speak of it again. Yet, at times, even if they are few and far between, you may look at each other and as your eyes meet, you wordlessly acknowledge that that is between you. What a feeling, only you two know about it. It is your secret.

If the secret is shared later beyond the original group, the feeling changes, even ends. Then it develops on its own; acknowledging the shared experience via a glance has weakened, the experience has left and grown beyond you. It is something shared.

I want to keep it, I want you to keep it, and I want it to be only our secret, the original experience. Looking into each other’s eyes and know it’s ours, ours only. Not everything needs to be a secret, just sometimes, something.

Sessions; A Path through the Dao De Jing

2009-06-03T18:39:00.004+09:30

It is much debated as to whether Lao Zi existed and if in fact he was the sole author of the Dao De Jing (The Classic of the Way of Virtue). For my purpose, the thoughts were voiced, the words exist and “Dao” (The Way) is here, part of us. This is my explanation, is my Way, my continuing exploration of the Dao De Jing.

Tai Ji Quan (The Grand Ultimate Fist), a ‘soft’ martial art is seen as a manifestation of Dao and this too is part of my exploration. I refer to its form in relating my understanding and acceptance of its flow within my daily thoughts and actions.

It is Sunday morning

2009-05-24T10:42:00.001+09:30

It is Sunday morning. It has been steadily raining since the early hours; a long rain that I haven't experienced for a number of years. It's a beautiful pleasant occasion.

I am content and reflective as I listen and watch the rain falling. As usual I believe the rain washes us, refreshes us, prepares us for new growth. It feeds us the strength to cope with periods of drought, for times that dust settles onto our being.

Not cold and no wind, just the steady drumming on the roof and path. Water dripping from the eaves onto the concrete gradually changing the surface colour. Plants extending their branches, opening their leaves absorbing the moisture, collecting water in dips and hollows, filling, then flowing along channels, dripping, forming small puddles.

It is Sunday morning.

SOUP

2009-05-07T13:59:00.000+09:30

From the great eternal Emptiness, God originated, and God in turn created … SOUP.

A fairly large cauldron was used; black was the first ingredient. For a long time with occasional pinches of yellow the cauldron simmered.

Some time later, creating a vast contrast, white was added to the pot. The soup bubbled. Small amounts of yellow continued to be sprinkled into the mix until a large quantity was added. Differing yellows combined with the black and white, producing exotic tastes.

More whites from different regions and differing in tastes were introduced. Ingredients between white and yellow were also sourced, further teasing the taste buds with their colour.

Then, totally different blacks were added. Creative soup making, unearthing the possibility of new tantalising SOUP mixes.

Of course at times the flavours didn’t mix, some opposing each other. Not much water was added, each colour expressing its own flavour, no watering down. A healthy fullness was sought. God continued.

Time passed and slowly, slowly simmering the flavours eked, blended with each other, developing into a thick tasty soup; and still evolving.

And over time, the aroma the flavour!

Over time, over time, over time…

Oneness

2009-04-27T18:48:00.000+09:30

I am at one with the universe

At one with all within it

And being at one

I am

the victim, the oppressor; the person who laughs, the one who cries;

the wise one, the ignorant; the ugly, the beautiful;

right and wrong, good and bad

the Christian, the Muslim; the Buddhist, the Jew;

the mystic, the fundamentalist;

the believer, the non.

Through being all these

I follow my path

And am at one with myself

Here

Still Empty the Source

An expression

my Camino

2009-04-27T14:06:00.001+09:30

I created this Camino I follow. It is mine and mine (to walk) alone

My Camino follows the peaks and valleys, the vastness of the ocean and the seemingly endless plains. Walking it, meandering like an aging river, I am open to the universe to fill my being as I empty my self, discarding my ego.

On this, my path, I share with others, give and take nourishment, comfort, knowledge and stories. I allow the wonders to fill me with awe, make music and dance, grateful and appreciatively. Cause new stories. When fear presents to me, I take courage and face it. All words spoken or written, or even thought, all activity I carry out, I communicate with purpose, my own intention.

At times loneliness takes hold and I seek company. Other times the presence of just one other may feel like an oppressing crowd and I walk away. Whether alone or in company, in activity or rest I need only to be still. This stillness puts me back into my true aloneness, returns me to my path.

My home, ‘wode xin zai’, is part of my path. It is my physical resting place to return to, to allow events, experiences to settle. Intended for beauty and harmony, the home maintains and provides balance. Filled with energy, it is a home forgiving, for giving.

There are many people I have met and many more still to meet. With each encounter a fresh story expresses itself, is interpreted and evolves separately. Yet each story has the same source, it’s origin in the eternal void from whence we all came. It is part of our oneness; we are part of the oneness.

All, each of us, manifestations and expressions of Dao, creating, walking our own path. Completing our term of expression, then, just returning to the void, empty.

Although from my seed, my sons make their own way, their own life. They create their Camino for themselves alone. Just, as my parents gave me the opportunity to express my being, and so on as way before me and long after me.

And you, dear friend, express yourself, walk your Camino, and walk in beauty.

The Shadow

2009-04-06T16:19:00.002+09:30

It has got to Feel Right

2009-04-06T10:22:00.000+09:30

It has got to Feel Right. Each day we make choices, carry out decisions, invest in action and speech. These choices are all made using the knowledge we have available to us at the time and based on our, and others, previous experiences. If on reflection we find that the decision is not one we are now comfortable with, it is fairly easy in hindsight to talk about what other option we should have taken.

At times we may find ourselves tossing possibilities round our minds, thought after thought without truly reaching a conclusion. We seem further away from a result than when we started. Other times we respond without being conscious of making a decision – it just happens, quickly. And it may not be the life changing decision, which is hard to arrive at; it can easily be a simple ‘what to have for dinner tonight’ that creates the most torment.

We need to go deeper than thoughts, particularly when they are rambling not getting anywhere and quietly listen to our inner self. We need to get to the heart of the matter, to the heart of ourselves. Ultimately our decision is going to create the experience, at least at this level of existence that we recognise.

Listen to our heart. Not all resolutions will be received, as we intend, by everyone. Some will agree with what is said or done whilst others will oppose the action or view offered. Balancing the rational thoughts with how we truly feel, responding from the heart, rather than reacting to a situation, we take the step and follow it. The choice taken may not appeal even to those closest to us, but if it is true, from the heart, then it is the choice to take. Knowing the possible consequences if people don’t understand the reason behind the choice will present difficulties in making the decision. We then have a more basic decision, do we keep true to ourselves or do we maintain a lie, a sandcastle waiting to be washed away.

Without surrendering to ambition, or seeking revenge but ceding to harmony and simplicity, recognising true contentment, follow the path of our heart, (of Dao). Decisions made from the foundation of virtue, from our heart, Feel Right. They may not necessarily seem easy as often the simplest of action can be difficult to see, but after the decision is made, from the first step, there is no complexity and that too Feels Right.

Travelling along the path of our existence we remain flexible. Although constant in the manner of how we make decisions, nothing is fixed. Such is life that a decision may need to be reversed or changed. This is part of our continued listening and responding from our heart. It is part of our growth and development, our response to new situations. Resolving without force or aggression but rather with a perceived broader benefit for all.

And certainly, daily and moment to moment, as new choices are made let them Feel Right. (What will I have for dinner tonight?)

And today

2009-03-02T15:45:00.000+10:30

So here I am at the computer again, sharing with you. I enjoy this experience and find it more than just a pastime. Writing for the sake of writing; taking photographs for the sake of seeing; music for the sake of music; Ah, and yes living for the sake of being alive - no desire - just be and allow my being to be filled with the glory of being.

I am exercising a bit more, meditating a bit more, drinking green tea and ginger, but I haven't stopped enjoying all the other bits of life, like my whisky and chocolate and...

Also in my head there is a book and I am writing it. Why not?

And there is you, dear reader - welcome. Each time you enter this blog - welcome.

and

May you (and I) walk in beauty.

Mon ami, ca va?

2009-02-16T11:33:00.001+10:30

Mon ami, ca va?

A letter, to you...

I am fortunate that I am where I am in my life. I remember when I 'had' to work, although I wonder if I really did believe I had to work, after all I have done many things that did not pay, or paid very little. But again, I cannot compare myself to others. I am just me with my own beliefs and experiences.

My friend I have done a bit of a shift. I don't think I am really any different, but rather just getting to accept who I am. I have stopped seeking. (At least stopping when I remember...) I am no longer seeking Dao, spirituality, religiousness etc. I understand that I cannot go looking for something that is there - where to look if it is there? I understand that I just have to be, and be empty and open and just let life (Dao) fill me. Live each moment, each experience from emptiness and know that life is here for living. No need to become anxious wanting to become, to reach a point. I am there, I just gotta realise it. Of course that is the difficult (for me) leap of faith. I forget all the time. But, it doesn't matter because I still am.

Of course I still want to read the words of sages and immerse myself in the spirituality of the universe, the difference is that I can observe myself doing it. Not do it because that is what I have to do, rather because I enjoy doing it.

I am happy my friend.

And simple things; This morning I rose early, just after 6 AM - and cleaned, dusted, swept outside and in - watered plants and went and bought fresh fruit - as always life is good.

Even the weather. Six days greater than 40 degrees and 10 days over 35. Only one day did I have the air con on for 1/2 hour. Just the fan seems enough. Dunno how I cope, just is so.

As Osho said: "To be empty is to move into a space where you will see yourself as you are... Dao says that nothing really has to be done. One has just to penetrate into one's own being". (Tao: The Pathless Path)

Love, Peace and Beauty be with you

I enjoy Dao

2009-01-26T10:13:00.001+10:30

Lunar New Years Day – 2009 – Year of the Ox

26/01/2009

I enjoy Dao.

Waking up, feel the light enter my eyes and stretch my body. Sometimes I slumber a little, or I just get up. Whichever, I know that my dreams are gone and a day is going to unfold before me. I will let life fill me with experiences as I observe; and Be.

I enjoy living the simplicity of Dao, which at times can be quite challenging. I read and re-read works on Dao and continue to attain a deeper understanding, but never quite a total understanding. But I know that it is not in the reading, it is not in the thinking but rather in being that Dao is learned, and lived.

Each day I try to walk in beauty. In fact we all walk in beauty, it is just that we are not aware that we do. Harmony is the natural state of the universe, it does not compare, it just is. Harmony is my natural state, I am not separate, I am part of the universe. Let it be, we are being.

Having faith in Dao, I believe. Often I do not understand and concepts allude me, yet for me it is the path of Dao I walk. The path I realise and allow within me. Acceptance that I am; of my being.

There is beauty, joy, contentment in being.

Walk in beauty…

Contentment - Lunar New Year Eve 2009 – Year of the Ox

2009-01-25T11:29:00.003+10:30

I often write about how I often feel much gratitude. And often I feel content. I enjoy being. Currently I am re-reading Osho, ‘Tao The Pathless Path’. I intend to quote from it the dialogue on contentment.

Reading the passage I thought about my life of observations and how I do look at those who have less than me, who are disadvantaged more than I, and then (I) express my gratitude for what I have and am. The question I have since asked myself is why am I comparing? Why do I need to compare? Why can I not just accept my being, and live on?

I am not suggesting that I should stop feeling empathy or concern and forget that a whole different world, in fact many worlds, exist outside my experience. And I still believe being available to my brothers and sisters is an important part of my life. Yet, I am thinking more that I do not need to compare, I just need to be aware, of them, of myself.

And being myself, joy and contentment are there in the natural state, not because I compared but because I am. As Osho says, there is no cause for joy, it is natural, but there are many reasons for not feeling joy. Health is like joy and contentment. No doctor can tell you the cause of health, it is the natural state of a person, but causes for ill-health can be found.

I enjoy my days and believe that contentment is a natural state. But now I sense this contentment because I just try to be. I allow myself to realise I am without comparison. Of course I find old thinking hard to change, but hey, I am…

From: Osho, ‘Tao The Pathless Path’.

Contentment comes only when you are not comparing, when you are simply within yourself, totally within yourself – centred, rooted. And by being in your being, you suddenly realise that the whole is yours, and you are of the whole; you are not separate. The ego has disappeared, you have become universal. In that moment there is great contentment, great benediction. But that benediction, that contentment, does not come through rationalization, it comes through realization – that is the difference.

Consolation is rationalization, contentment is realisation.

So there are three states of mind: discontent – a state of comparison; comparing with those who have more than you, then there is discontent. Somebody has a beautiful car and you are walking on foot; you are a pedestrian, then you are discontented. The second stage is contentment – you are a pedestrian and you see a beggar who has no feet; comparing with that one who has less than you, but still comparison. Discontent one aspect of the coin; contentment, the so-called contentment – the other aspect of the same coin. And the name of the coin is comparison. When you have thrown the coin completely – contentment and discontent, all – then suddenly you are in a state of no comparison: that is real contentment. Then you don’t compare who has more, who has less. In fact, then it is not a question of having, then it is a question of being. Having never helps. You can have as much as you desire, but by having nobody ever attains to life. Life only comes through being, not through having.

Now there are three types of people: those who have, the worldly, and those who renounce – the otherworldly. The first and the second are not opposite to each other, however opposite they may appear. One believes that by having more you will attain to happiness, the other believes that by not having more you will attain to happiness, but both believe in having. The third – the totally different dimension – is of being: neither having nor not having.

That’s what I mean by ‘sannyas’. Don’t be worldly, don’t be otherworldly. Don’t compare with those who have more, don’t compare with those who have less. Compare not. Just be yourself … allow your being. ‘Be’ and that being will bring tremendous joy. And that joy will be one, not many. And that joy will not have any cause to it – it will be uncaused, it will be just like well-being, health.

If you listen to Dao, then the message is very simple. Be rooted in your being… You just be. Being is the goal of Dao.

And one thing more to be understood: being, you already ‘are’. There is no becoming: you are not to become – it is already the case, you have it within you. It just has to be allowed to open so that the perfume id released to the winds; and that is the real song, the joy.

To be noncomparative – to be neither higher nor lower, just to be yourself, not to think in relation to others, just to think in terms of your tremendous aloneness – then you are happy.

Quick trip to the Flinders again

2009-01-14T12:16:00.009+10:30

A quick trip to the Flinders Ranges, specifically Wilpena, again.

I enjoy going there; it is always a new experience with a refreshing and renewal of the whole being. This time I went with my son and the sharing and company was pleasant and agreeable.

We only spent one complete day there using the time to climb St Mary. Although the temperature was about 38 degrees, the climb (and return) to the peak was not really arduous. I had to stop a few times whilst climbing up to rest the heart and lungs, but other than a little stiffness in the calves a day later, no discomfort.

It was quiet in the camping area, little wind and few birds squawking. The occasional kangaroo hopping by, stopping to chew some grass and take stock of us visitors. Other campers also appear relaxed and enjoying the peace of the place.

On the climb we met only a few climbers, visitors from France, Italy, Germany and a couple of Australians. It is amazing to think that I have placed my feet and hands, along with the feet and hands of people from all over this planet on the same rocks and earth that is way old… Again it is that feeling of awe of how small I am in this universe.

Small in size and time, and alive.

Waking Up

2009-01-05T22:55:00.003+10:30

Waking up, my eyes remain closed. Will I return to sleep? Light streams through the window past the gap between the curtains; through my eyelids I sense it must be late morning. I want to sleep more, I doze, dream some more.

Wake again. I rise, slowly, thinking about the possibility of the beauty of the day that is still before me. It is summer and I feel the room warming as the sun moves higher along its arc overhead. I rise slowly ‘cos my body aches, my muscles struggle to stretch and contract. No reason for the soreness other than perhaps age. Age, part of living.

Slowly bending, stretching, to don shorts and T-shirt. No quick agile movements in my body at this stage of the day. I lean across to the bedside cupboard, find my glasses and put them on. Not only stiffness of muscle but also diminishing eyesight, both short and far sighted. Again I suppose, age. Again, part of living.

Standing at the window I look out and see the day, slowly focusing on the front garden area, then extending my sight to the road and along. Quiet of people movement, birds are feeding from the flowers or scratching in mulch. Some are sitting on the overhead wires, others in the tree across the road, singing their bird songs. Hammering and power tool noise filters through the day from the workmen intend on building, creating new housing estates. Occasionally a car, truck or sometimes a bike goes past on to where their life takes them today.

I go to pee. I need to. Then into the bathroom, wash my hands and splash my face, try to get some of the sleep from my eyes. I enjoy the coolness of the water dripping from my face onto my neck.

Moving to the back of the house. This, My Home, (Wode xin zai). I greet the goldfish and feed them sparingly. Sliding open the back door I walk out into the courtyard, small simple confined but mine. A little grass area to the side where I Tai Chi, where I can play a restricted version of bocce, where I can place my bare feet and feel green, at times damp blades of grass beneath and between my toes.

Coffee is percolated, taken outside and sipped at my outdoor table, on the way breaking the web between plants and furniture. The spiders left to spin again.

Ah coffee! The day is on its way. Eyes and thoughts now focus with little effort, the brain alert. The body moving much more readily. Ahead, to live a day in a life, to live my life, perhaps, touching your life. To live.

And as always, let Beauty be.

May I lend a hand...

2009-01-01T15:33:00.000+10:30

There is a home...

2009-01-01T14:50:00.000+10:30

There is a home that everyone can go to when they want. The key, to open the door, is their ‘wish’ to enter. Probably knowing where home is, is the most difficult aspect of going home. Some people seek and seek while others don’t, either because they can’t be bothered or they can’t keep up with the search. Or perhaps it is not their path.

Why do we want to go home? It is the place for us to rest, to heal, to aspire and learn, to prepare; for whatever, whenever we want, whatever reason we give ourselves for wanting to go home. And at times there is no reason, just want to be there.

This home is not made of bricks and mortar, no physical travelling is required and no clock time need be spent to get there, only the time we wish to give ourselves. It is our time; it is our space, our place. Our home, that resides within us. Sometimes all we need is to still ourselves just for a few moments and there we are. Sometimes we can be doing, anything, and without being aware of how we arrived, there we are. And yet at times it can be the hardest place to find.

Lately I’ve been going home almost daily, even if only for a short stay. But the beauty of it is, even that short stay can seem forever. And for me, home is the window to the universe of which I am. I can just look out or, open the window and be part of it. For you, it – home - is what you are and what you want it to be.

May beauty be … in your home.

Happy 55th Birthday

2008-11-28T15:04:00.005+10:30

Well.

Anyway, Happy 55^th Birthday.

I wanted to know if I could still run 10 km – I can, and within 70 minutes. Not fast but pleasant enough for me. I went to the gym as I have finished with my membership and wanted to say goodbye to some people who regularly go, especially the friendly instructor, S, who helped and motivated me quite a lot.

Before going I ‘tai chi’ in the rain, letting the freshness wash over me. After the run I wandered to the beach and although I found it too cold to swim I paddled and washed my face, hands and feet, allowing the sea to wish me a great day. It did, it is.

During the run not only did I take calls from friends wishing me birthday greetings, one of the gym instructors began a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’. The whole aerobics room joined in and, yes, though humbled, I enjoyed it.

Walking away from the gym I felt a strong sense of walking away from something. I then remembered that I also resigned from my job two days ago, and walked away from that episode of my life. Walking away. It didn’t feel like a negative, from quitting before achieving, but rather like walking away from an ending, as one walks away from an enjoyable movie when it is finished. You are glad you saw and experienced it, perhaps it has made you think, or it was just an excellent movie that made an impression. You now move on with your life, perhaps influenced by what you just saw.

Well I felt, and I am, moving on. I must admit I don’t know what I am moving on to, but it doesn’t matter. It is open for the universe to fill the space. I feel a little bit, well, apprehensive at the unknown but the unknown is also the attraction. I trust in the universe, I trust in me – after all I believe that I, we, are the expression of the universe. Dao is part of me, or I am part of Dao.

I have just finished reading “House of Many Gods’ by Kiana Davenport. There is a wonderful chapter where the central figure, Ana gives birth. It is described from a Hawaiian custom. Very captivating. There are also some lines that I want to quote, they, of course, made an impact on my reading. The first quote ties in with the story and spirituality surrounding Aunty Pua:

“She still read the Bible every night, though she would never reach the end. Old Uncle Tito had begun using the thin pages of her Bible for rolling his tobacco. She was reading Chronicles, he was smoking Deuteronomy.”

And later from the wise Aunty Pua:

“… She put my left hand on her Bible, my right hand on the KUMULIPO. And she said ‘Pray.’ I said ‘Who should I pray to?’ And Pua said, ‘That is your decision. You see, you still have control.’ …”

From Ana I quote a belief that I would like to take on board, and let it influence me:

“Hawaiians believe the tongue is the steering paddle of the mouth. Better still than speak offending thoughts.”

I end this discourse, this birthday wish to myself, with my own thoughts: May we walk this middle path with passion. And each step we take, we take in beauty.

Again, Happy Birthday.

Some October scenes

2008-11-09T13:03:00.003+10:30

And to you...

2008-11-09T12:58:00.003+10:30

Sometimes music just takes me to places that are heaven.

And to you…it is the nature of our relationship that I love - it is infinite, time is nothing; when we do communicate, what we feel is and say is, all.

And life goes on.

It is beautiful. The other night I went into rapture. I thought I had died some time back, died at least to my passion. But, talking to a friend I became passionate in our discussion. Later I realised that I was passionate, I still carried passion in me, I don’t care for the insipid state, I enjoy the emotion taking over. The best is: I cannot remember what I was passionate about, AND YET I know that it doesn't matter what the passion was for. The importance is the emotion, the passion. Passion without obsession.

My dear brother, sister and friend, my holy brother, sister and friend - just as you are you, I am a man of jeans and long sleeved T-shirts and responsive. We are all open to the universe, we are the face of the universe, we are.

Again I feel close that something is going to happen (to me, not negatively). Something big, perhaps something small - ahhh, even perhaps to just wake up into another day...

Quote

2008-10-19T10:40:00.006+10:30

I found a piece of paper in my desk with what I consider to be a wonderful quote from Alan Watt's "The Book on the Taboo against knowing who you are":

"We do not 'come into' this world, we come out of it, as leaves from a tree. As the ocean 'waves', the universe 'peoples' ".

A Sunday Morning Walk

2008-09-28T19:01:00.006+09:30

Atonement

There is a beach

A long stretch of white sand

No breaking waves

Just small smiling whitecaps, teasing

The tide

I look beyond

The deep dappled green to where

The grey white clouds rise, bringing rain

And wash away the dust of my sins

The Earphones

2008-09-26T11:01:00.001+09:30

Yesterday I saw a simple yet wonderful act that made me smile and feel good about the world. On reflection, still smiling from the experience, it took me back to my early years and have realised how the world, at least for me has changed – and for the better.

As a child, I was loved by my parents and had friends outside the family. Yet even though I was born in this lucky country we call Australia, due to my ethnic background I target of many taunts. Whenever I spoke Italian to my parents in public, or when fellow school kids saw what my mother prepared for my lunch, whenever anything ‘different from the norm’ happened, I was teased and laughed at. It became that I hated being of Italian background; At one stage as a young teenager I even called myself John, a good Australian name so I thought. But I was caught out and became the butt of even more severe taunting.

But it wasn’t just from the outside in, some discrimination occurred from within the family towards outsiders. Although not often verbalised, I was to be wary of the Black people and the Asians. I was not allowed to visit or spend too much time with Australian families, especially if they were not Catholic. My parents were friendly polite people and not obvious in their discriminatory beliefs. Perhaps it was their way of coping in a new country, a way of preserving their culture; or possibly just simple peasant ignorance.

Unfortunately it did create in me at that young age distaste for being different. I rebelled against my own ethnicity, but in later teenage years embraced Asian culture, particularly that of the Chinese. And it wasn’t until relatively recently that I have accepted and embraced my own Italian heritage.

Being different, accepting and sharing the differences are a big part of who I am today.

So, yesterday…

I was sitting in the bus going to the city, sitting behind a young Asian teenager. The bus was occupied with people of many cultures. Asian, Black Africans, Indigenous Australians, Women wearing headdress, Europeans…and of course, white Australians.

A few stops further a young Black African teenager boarded the bus. It became obvious that the teenager sitting before me, and the newly arrived occupant knew each other. They spoke a few animated friendly words in a thick broken English which I could not understand, yet, I could sense and appreciate the warmth of their friendship.

Then with a simple gesture the Asian lad removed the earphone from his ear and gave it to the other, who immediately placed it into his own ear. I must admit my immediate thought was: ‘germs’! But I quickly realised the immense depth to this simple act of sharing. Two individuals, young individuals from very different, very distant cultures accepting each other, that was all. How beautiful!

As the young African lad said, “Cool, man” and it is.

The Man With No History

2008-09-07T17:10:00.005+09:30

In the Quartobello quarter of the small township of M, in the country of C, stood a four level aging building. Each level contained three apartments, a left wing, centre and right wing. On the fourth level, left wing, as you entered the apartment you walked into a medium sized open space room, with kitchen facilities in the furthest corner.

Framed into the left wall was a large feature window looking out at the neighbouring buildings and apartment blocks. The window outside was a dirt grey, coloured with many years of unwashed rain spotted dust and grime. Inside, on the opposite wall from the window were two doors. One led into a bathroom toilet combination, which also included a linen press for storage. The other door led into a bedroom containing a double bed, a mirrored wardrobe and two wooden kitchen chairs placed along the near wall.

The main room, the one most lived in, held minimal furniture. A round dining table, three wooden chairs similar to the chairs in the bedroom and a three-person fabric divan, muted in colour due to its age. The divan sat not quite in the centre of the room facing a makeshift concrete block and wooden planked bookcase. This bookcase held a small portable TV and a CD/radio player. A few CD covers and some books were lying randomly placed on the floor and around or on the shelving.

Entering the apartments was through a narrow hallway at street level, then up a central steel stairway to reach the upper floors, ending on the flat open fourth level landing. It was in the fourth level, left wing apartment that the man with no history lived.

To protect his privacy we shall call him S, after-all this is a small town, yet in truth, nobody really knows if S used his birth name. S was born in his twenty-eighth year, at least, his life here in M began when he was twenty-eight. Prior to this time nothing is known of him, he did not exist.

It was on a sunny afternoon in spring, many years ago that S appeared in the entryway of the building. Next he was on level four unlocking the door to his left wing apartment. Two burley outsiders helped him with his few possessions, carrying them up the four levels, then, setting up the rooms. It took little time and just as quickly they were gone, leaving in a plain unmarked, light, covered truck and never seen again in M. There was no indication where S came from, nor to where the outsiders returned.

Nothing stood out about S, other than he was not known, a newcomer. He wore dark neat and clean sombre clothes, was pleasant to look at with no distinctive features, and difficult to specifically describe once he was beyond eyesight. Standing at 172 centimetres tall, S was of slight build and stature but maintained if one looked, some lean muscle tone. His hair, brown to blackish in colour and of medium length cut around his ears and low on the back of his neck, after combed fell its own way.

S moved easily without hurry, possibly with the characteristics of a relaxed long distance runner rather than a sprinter. Whenever he left his apartment he walked and only on few occasions was he seen to depart and return in a taxi. On those times a lady usually accompanied him.

S was not animated. His words, or the way he moved his body, or even his thinking were contained. Never rude but relaxed and appearing content was the aura that surrounded him. However, on the occasions you looked into the hazel coloured iris of his eyes, along with the narrowing or dilating pupils you could see a deep passion. What the passion was for eluded us, and this unknown passion was part of his mystery.

Down the road a short walking distance away was a small home based bakery run by the Vietnamese family. The aroma of warm baking dough, sweet pastries and the loud bandying of words amongst the family made the bakery a friendly welcoming place, especially in the fresh mornings. Not quite daily but on a regular basis S would walk to the bakery to buy his rolls, or pastry, sometimes the paper. Always with a ‘good morning’ and his ready smile, he greeted and was greeted but somehow the invitation for further talk was usually absent. The daughters serving at the counter liked him and tantalized wanted to know more but as opportunities for asking questions were few, a world about him was created.

It was not on his part the reluctance to talk, but rather it mostly seemed it was never the right moment and quickly the opportunity passed. The same happened at the mini-market. He didn’t spend a lot of time there, just trolled the aisles looking for what he needed and never actually bought on a weekly shopping spree, only when he needed. The same at the liquor store, S would one day buy a bottle of red wine, or chilled lemon beer. Another day he might purchase whisky or perhaps a bottle of anise. Nothing was a forgone conclusion in his purchases nor could anyone determine his life style; opportunities to converse mostly slipped away and the stories about him grew.

S did not work within the structure of an employer – employee relationship, but was constantly busy and about on errands; with what, people only guessed. His days, months years passed without concern or boredom. The small amount of money he needed was obtained via a transaction with a banking machine. Where the money came from, again people only guessed. Although S did not give the appearance of being materially wealthy, money never seemed to be a problem for him.

At different times S was seen in the company of women, different women. Some stayed with him for a few months, others only weeks, or days. The women were outsiders as well. Where they came from or returned to, or even how they met was not known. During these times, S did not seem necessarily happier, but rather his life continued as always. Women were there or they weren’t. It was just what it was, what was happening at the time.

Never shopping for more than he needed, S also never asked for more than he had. On the few occasions he did speak, there was nothing he reminisced about; there was no past. There was no future either. S was never known to look towards the future or to express hope in any way. His life was in his present; his contentment was immediate, there in that moment. Nothing else existed, no past, no future, no hope for something other than what was, only each and every moment, and the contentment within each and every moment.

In this manner of living, S appeared to have an understanding of the universe; appeared both as a presence within the universe and appeared to contain the universe within him. And as his presence extended he was the universe. S was moment to moment an infinite being.

For many years S lived in the fourth level, left wing apartment of the still aging building in the Quartobello quarter in the small township of M. Death, of natural causes, did come to him and he left this world without attitude, just as he lived without attitude. Nothing was found by the officials to suggest who he was. S is still remembered by us who remain, the memory is only of him with his ready smile and with no history.

Just as he began his life, S ended his life in his twenty-eighth year.

The Glory of the Day

2008-08-25T10:57:00.003+09:30

I am filled with the glory of the day. Daydreaming, imbibing to the full on the spirit of the universe.

Cold; my muscles shiver, my breath a visible exhalation as it vaporises into the air before me. The sun strong but its heat not reaching here where I stand. The few white clouds emphasising the azure of the sky.

Standing here quietly, still, I hear life growing, cells pulsing, multiplying, changing into infinite. I feel my body absorbing the essence, the freshness, the newness. My body ever-changing into (the) infinite.

I walk in beauty

I am alive

Tonight

2008-06-18T22:25:00.002+09:30

It is a bright night, tonight. The calendar tells me it is a full moon, yet I hear no distant yowling of a werewolf - not even in my head.

The air is crisp and the night clear, quiet and still, inside and outside. Usually I hear a car passing by or a siren wailing in the distance. Sometimes I hear the thump, thump thumping of a helicopter overhead, it's light spotting the action below, but not tonight. All is quiet, still.

I can't get back to sleep. I had a dream. In my dream I met my soul mate. She came and sat on my lap. As we hugged, our bodies drawn close together, we flew over the beach and evening waters. We didn't fly far as we each have to fly the distance of life on our own, but we were together. I cried, happy, having met my soul mate and being hugged.

I touched the erect nipple of her rounded breast. A feeling so sensuous.

We walked together past buildings. We walked together through the countryside.

I can't get back to sleep. The night is still, still.

I sit up in my bed and allow the crisp air and bright moonlit night with its silence embrace me.

18/06/2008

A Couple of Poems

2008-06-18T22:06:00.006+09:30

Under the Moon, Holding Hands

At night we would walk sit

Share thoughts with the moon

Hold hands

Promise we would always be together

Then I left

Space didn't distance our love

Each day

We remain in touch

At night you I walk sit

Meditate with the moon

Hold hands

As then, still always together

12/12/2006

Wasting from the weight of nothing happening.

I waste in this room

Surrounded by screens screaming

Flashing coloured agendas

When I could be asleep dreaming

But all I have left, is

The Hope from Pandora's box

This final evil, spreading

My slumped shoulders holding

The weight of nothing happening

Feb '07

Jetty images

2008-06-08T12:29:00.007+09:30

Reflections of light

2008-06-08T12:08:00.012+09:30

From Henley Beach / Semaphore Beach

nightscape - Henley Beach

moon-set

sun-set

swirling clouds

The clock in sunrise

From the back yard...