Good

Tired and frazzled, but juiced up with goodness, man time and magic.

Flowers

It's interesting isn't it how we quite happily hold the genitalia of plants up to our noses and savour the beauty of their scent, how we, even in churches, prize the sexual organs of plants and put them in special places of note to be appreciated and admired by all.

And yet we repress our own genitals so heartily. When was the last time you put your nose to the genitals of a friend and inhaled deeply to see what this beautiful person smelt like? When was the last time you saw an artistic arrangement of human genitals on an altar at a wedding?

Curious questions indeed...

Fire

We drove through the back of Kinglake the other day, on our way up to Yoga Camp in northern Victoria. It was a shock to see how intensely charred the landscape was. And made me appreciate really deeply the grace that allows me to be living without the brutal caress of the flames in my own home.

The black ribbon of bitumen wound its way through a silent landscape, the very earth itself blackened, the only other colour a dusty brown - the brown that exists when plant tissue has no water left in it. The shiny silver railing along the road highlighted the charcoal colours like a well chosen frame.

It makes me wonder how long the part of earth called Australia will tolerate us living here. She could starve us out all too easily. Burn us out all too easily. Or maybe she will wash us away just when we think we can adjust to living in a desert. The ferocity of the flames brought an awareness that maybe not even our comforting blanket of asphalt and concrete is enough to protect the heart of the city.

Slowly softening

Another day, a grey one at that. The earth is slowly softening, there is a mist today lying across the valley which echoes the recent rain. There is a slight flush of green in the crisp brown grass. It's strange to see green in the fields nearby: even stranger how quickly we become used to something being dead. And disturbing how quickly the agapanthas have sprung back: they were just starting to look sick.

It will take a while to get used to this dry being normal, it will be fascinating to see how the plants and animals adapt and survive. Maybe that's why blackberries and agapanthas are here, they could be all that's left if this keeps up.

Camping again

Off i go to camping again, the mad rush of getting everything together and inevitably leaving late.

Message from a Master

Kimba the cat is sitting on my arms so one hand can only get to the bottom rhs of the key board. Not sure if i can actually reach the letter next to w. This was after nibblng on my fingers.

So what is your message o great Zen master? That it's ridiculous to be on the computer in bed at 7:30am on a Saturday when i've got a body to be present in and napping to do? Just possibly, it reminds me of another Zen master whose life deeply touched mine, Miso also had an issue with my love of the computer and would try to sit on my arms.

Perhaps i'd be more relaxed and chilled out if i could lick my own balls and anus. Entirely possible i'd spend more time in bed sleeping. Learning to be in my body when i'm on the computer is one of the challenges of the modern day conscious being.

Lessons past and present

My grandfather is dead, the very embodiment of my inner judge, a man i've learnt to love exactly because of his sharp edges. It's such a strange mixture of emotions that accompany this, mixed as it is with the most challenging time in my relationship. Such a sense of loss, and yet of liberation, of stepping into myself, but of loosing part of myself, of power and weakness.

If only letting go of how i devalue myself was easy as typing these words, but it is far more graceful and profound than any words can convey, even if one of my strongest desires is to just curl up in a ball and let the world wash over me while i watch and fantasise that the stream ripples not as it carresses my body.

But that's not the message the cats in my live give me, much as it might seem. It is to be deeply restful, and to know that i am the hunter as long as i know that i'm the hunter. One lesson from my grandfather was to be yourself even when your weakness is thrown in your face, even when what you face is seemingly more powerful and stronger than you are.

And my lesson from tonight from my lover is to be powerful enough to believe in the journey even when she sees it not, even when the darkness consumes those you love, for it's just possible they have for a moment stepped beyond practice and are doing it: living the warriors path deep in the belly of the beast.