REPORT A PROBLEM
Istanbul a cafe at Eid, it is night, I am sipping mint tea under the sky. Three musicians set up and begin to play.A family group leaves. A dervish dancer steps up, white robe, soft black shoes, red hat. He begins to dance, I catch my breath for less than the length of a doorway is between us. He twirls and spins building speed, robe flaring, feet turning, turning, turning, turning, turning and always finding ground; his gaze turned inward to the still core. For more than an hour he dances.. My gaze turns inward to the still core
a grand cross at the new moon, which just happens to fall on my natal moon. it should be about new intentions right? a new birth in my creativity, what I have to offer but its a cross; every intent crossed by another, sadness, love, longing and dust, every square building in intensity and tension as mighty storms flood the nation, people are swept away in their cars, from roof tops, an 81 year old farmer checking on his stock is swept away.. over here sharks take a young surfer and a woman diving. time collapses in the still centre.
its cold, blue sky cold
I am wearing the amber pendant I bought last year at Mosswood Hollow, in June
It wasn't cold
it was full of laughter and humming birds sipping nectar as we told our dreams and laughed, learning to share our deepest
to love and like each other
as the great cedars held us
I had an attic room
I made tiny stitches in an old and faded green and white quilt
hoping to help hold it together another season
It will still be there
and I am here
carrying the amber laughter deep within
A dream today, he said, about visiting this tiny desert town
203 people by a river crossing way out in Western Queensland
Maybe you can get a roadhouse brekkie or maybe you just pass on through, there is no fuel today
I wouldn't make it the focus of a trip but people live here or on the land nearby
It's their home
Did you know
Thargonidah was the first place in Australia to generate hydro power, their own supply from a bore, in 1898
In 1951 they decided diesel would be better
The Buloo River offers
enter with your question
the very act of entering
into the circle
with your question
makes the question important
marked, as a heifer branded and tagged
beloved, sacred if you like, set apart
for special attention
go ahead now,
ask the question
already it is different
uttered silently in this sacred place
whispered, not yet clear, or
screamed in anguish
staggering, laughing with a rush of insight
we are changed
skittish, like heifers
marked by our questions
crossed, yes crossed
I have blown it again
love and intention
the perfect loaf so I thought
but I cooked it too long
too much crust
the sign for earth
is a circle
containing a cross
or a cross
what I want
over and over
yeah, I know what I want is half baked
I'd really prefer crusty
a delicious life
begin begin we beg you to begin
I will swear they play scrabble in my head
bad puns abound
love across, then intention
how does that look?
Thats it, nothing more
that's the multiverse
crossed with intention
we set it in motion a while ago and cheerfully forgot our intentions like the grocery list or the poem we dreamed
Hekate stands in the twilight
Approach, slip inside her robes and wear them
She is the ancient Queen of the three realms
By the time of the Solstice they will all be gathered
to witness this consecration:
Vesta demands you ignite your fire!
Cool Pallas is no longer her father's daughter
She's befriended Eros and drawn Medusa's snakes inside,
transmuting their poison and drawing on their wild power:
They know that Ceres meets Uranus at the Solstice
and Juno meets with Lilith while most men sleep.
In just a few days they will smash up the structures and expose the marrow of your bones.There can be only fire and roses.
The muse is yelling at you
Better embrace Her.It is only fair.
it's the human condition isn't it?
as a Buddhist friend once said to his baby daughter
you too shall crave ice-creams
there's always adjustment
to what we actually want
what's ripe, what needs to be discarded?
there's always fruit here
sleek aubergines and oranges in a large wooden bowl
pink lady apples in the purple collander; on a black bench
passionfruit just fallen from the vine, ripening till they're crinkly
it was raining two days ago
I took the bright nasturtiums from the blue and white vase
and put them in a salad: I still feel a little guilty-
nah, don't reckon he's a fucked unit mate
his girl's got leukaemia
n' his missus done a runner..
its just a bender mate
but he showed up right?
the old truckie in his singlet and faded tatts
walks out and lays an arm along the frame
he looks straight up
into the young forkies' eyes
load er up straight will yer
fair load for a pay load
Release the broken male release the broken male release the broken male: no more broken men no more broken men no more broken men. I will not carry broken braves, I will not carry men who manipulate, scheme and misuse their power, I will not carry ancestral guilt, I will not carry noblesse oblige, I will not carry creativity sacrificed for duty, I will not carry emotion suppressed because of macho training. I will not engage with seductive men who need me to support their frail egos cut cut cut cut cut cut. I release this ancestral body adapted to carry males: I put on a new one.
There is a temple in Chiang Mai that always makes me smile
I call it the happiness temple
it is beautiful but simple, ancient and open every day
the garden is tended with devotion and whimsical humour
stone statues of contented smiling monks and animals sit amid the flowers while inside a large buddah is lit from behind
I go there in my mind now
if you have some money
please donate and support our temple
if you do not you are also very welcome
please take off your shoes!
the sign by the wide steps reads
The Buddah says:
purify your own mind
when I peel right back to the truth
I know I love you, and you love me
but its a lemon-
lemon tree very pretty, lemon flower very sweet
but the fruit of the lemon is
piquant, great in a salad, but not the whole meal
and like they say, impossible to eat;
yet every home should have a lemon tree
and every time I am with you
I am home
what is this? karma, completion, compassion,
companions at the altar of transformation?
none of these? all any or none who knows
what it means to enter in at the green door
you ask if I have a bell
I hear them peal
all the way from a mountain shrine
yes, I say, but I am not going home
'to know a lake you have to take out the water'
surely not because 'lake' is your invention, different for each creature which apprehends its vastness?
perhaps it's so
that there are no reflections of yourself in the way of truthful seeing?
or so you will not be distracted by the clouds scurrying overhead or the three tones of blue to be seen in the sky as the weather changes, also luminously reflected?
or so your gaze will not be interrupted by this sudden chill as the wind disturbs the water?
perhaps it's so you will at last
know the stony bottom of enchantment?
or is it that
to know the cup we must drink what it contains.
one cup at a time may be enough for me...
our friendship is middle aged!
forty two years and yet another year,
but it is still as smooth and supple as when we were young
there is no crisis:
of course there are jarring moments, you start as I carelessly top up my cooling coffee with your exquisitely prepared fresh brew,
there's a pang as you wander for a moment when I wanted your attention;
but mostly there is
the bliss of winter sunshine seeping into bone,
our consciousness soaring
circling, settling deep into the
of one another
camels snorting, dusty, stiff and tired
you arrive at last-
all aches are eased and then forgotten
as stories are told, embellished with delight
and food is passed between friends.
The twilight deepens into night,
stars join our conversation;
we sigh in deep content.
blue blue blue
doorways into blue
once in a blue moon
and this is now
there is a love
that can also hold the dark
the parrots are cracking sugar
and eating fruit at our table
as we celebrate with friends.
they flew in when
the heavens opened;
hearing our laughter
they joined us
under the bright umbrellas!
I have a wet brown leaf
attached to the bottom of my shoe
I brought it inside from a walk without
noticing it was there
its strong brown contrasts with the limp wetness;
I wonder if it feels
I pee it off
I place it, almost tenderly,
in the bright stainless steel pot
that contains fruit peelings and vegetable scraps
destined for the compost
You stole my gumboot-
I chased you unsuccessfully in the other boot
I peeled of my long socks and the other boot and ran
through the puddles on the cold ground,
across the playground and around the buildings
until I caught you: I learned then
sometimes we need to travel lightly
to win respect, to mend a friendship or to end one, and to retrieve what is our own.
The yellow flowers of the old kowhai tree
still dance against the cool spring sky.
cut through me
like a knife through a green
apple: if only the cut had been the other way
we might have seen the stars that protect
instead I was left divided
and merely said, I will not sign this.
At night death visited;
he ate half the apple
making my choice quite clear
there are more suicides every day
while the emperor and his court walk
naked, through the bitter winds
A cold grey morning. I want to rest
and not face the decisions that lie before me,
all the organisation..
I watch morning TV news,
commercial as the signal is skewed on the ABC
Will Britain leave the EU and set back the clock?
Will Europe crumble in my children's lifetime?
A murder in the park close to me.
Have we had the era of peace already or is a
new age dawning?
I hang out the washing
and take myself to the pool.
That night I arrange a visit interstate.
My friend laughs at my indecision.
It is very clear he says..
It's cold at the airport, You drink coffee, I drink tea; you cheerily tell me all about the flight.
You have just flown through an Arab nation where they checked the battery in your phone, they checked your shoes and no doubt had a dog sniff your broad Australian hat, explosives ... you want to go back in 6 weeks? Maybe you will go through Hong Kong this time but it is typhoon season, maybe Air Fiji again.You have known her 18 months you say. I thought you would meet someone in England; but not someone known for 18 months. I fly out.
you can't see the Southern Cross;
there's far too much light
slanting across pale, empty streets.
We came in early, headwind,
you scramble to meet me and call just as I get off the bus.
A hug, laughter between friends.
You tuck me up in your own bed and
sleep, well maybe you sleep,
in the lounge.
In the morning you set out breakfast with care.
We talk and plan, as planned-
You say I bring warmth into the house; you too are sad.
You'd think by now
we would know
how to read the stars.
the little marble cherub
is peeing into a fountain
with a mischievous glint in his eye,
he is so proud of his prowess
just like all little boys;
actually he is the fountain, and perhaps the water is to remind us
one day he will be grown up angel
seeding new possibilities.
I visited a former lover who had a little boy
I was witness
to his girlfriend attempting to drown the child, not her own-
I pushed her aside and grabbed him from the bath, pressing the water from his lungs across my knee
when he could breathe again I wrapped him in a big white towel and
cuddled him back to life
was she angry, this woman, that the child
was more beloved than she?
I did not testify, too hard to prove-
but the relationship was destroyed,
the father bathed his son from that day:
it made me think about women who live their lives
adapted to their men,
and the new born males
set out to die on cold mornings.
fishing in the river of dreams
there up it leaps!
its brilliant rainbows gleaming
against the pearly scales
this fish has chosen you
make no mistake
it nestles in your net and eyes you solemnly
somehow you know
this is the big one!
great fish you say, tell me...
bubbles form at its mouth, it sighs
and its eyes dull over
you know that beautiful as it is
this fish too
must be cooked and eaten
Stunning Sydney, so
why oh why stay at the Y?
bland warm clean, tea and a TV
hot shower and the seminar is just downstairs
after a bland warm clean breakfast
then a brisk winter walk to find
covinvial minestrone and yes,
he is a very good presenter.
Warm certainly, but not bland.
His warm balanced answers, deeply thoughtful work and the breathtaking images make the long trip worthwhile.
That's a reason to stay at the Y.
well, I guess it means the beginning-
in this case it is Genesis paints
that is oils that can be mixed with water
that do not dry until they are heat set,
heat gun or in the oven; great for travellers.
I bought some to test out a few years ago.
The supplier used to be local,
now they've moved to Queensland.
Today I was asked by a man
who normally works
in the mines
how he could learn to paint...draw, maybe carve
but really he wants to paint
the red earth.
I was glad to tell him about Genesis...
a new beginning, I hope.
Yes yes and yes!
Thank you we found it,
a little maze
in the city
behind a studio
beside a studio full of cushions and possibilities
yes a labyrinth
and you helped shift the stones!
The woman who made it wasn't there
she has just walked the Camino.
Her husband says she created the labyrinth, the garden
holds the space
and he holds her.
We realise we met 23 years ago..
We talk and talk, words and friends and memories
tumbling over one another.
He gives me a book on death,
perhaps it is timely.
You will work here
and be seen in a new way.
I sense an opening too.
The Tip Jar