It seems that religions or spiritual paths have a set of core orientations or philosophies that form the underlying foundation upon which the religion and practice rests. This core philosophy is like the seed from which the entire “tree” of the religion grows–the tree might branch in different directions, but all of those branches eventually […]
A single step, a simple, single, solitary step. The hardest step is the first. Be it parachuting, leaving a relationship or home. But the infinite possibilities of that one step. Of all the things in this life that could be, of all the things that might be and all the things that never will be. All these are held within the possibility of that one step.
I’ve been looking, looking, visioning and waiting…
A Radio National program on following rivers to their source led me to the little rivers feeding the Parramatta River and then onto the Hawthorne Canal. The thing I noticed back in ’77 was the almost complete lack of natural waterways in the Sydney basin. (more…)
It’s funny how one word, a single word, can drop you back. In this case the word was “Astrid” and 33 years was the drop. The word led directly to the Cold Chisel song: Goodbye (Astrid Goodbye) The energy, the “French Vogue society” and the call to seek freedom were 1983 for me. No one called Astrid in my life at the time, a goat 15 years later, but no one at the time.
That song is off the Breakfast at Sweethearts album. It too had meaning, has meaning, brings back memories of cappuccinos on winter mornings… That brings back memories of Sydney’s “alledged” criminal underbelly. Of King’s Cross and of good people and slimy snakes. It’s mostly the good people who remain in the memories of hangovers and the possibilities of life, laid out before me…
Goodbye (Astrid Goodbye)
As the good King Arthur lay ailing in his bower, his kingdom crumbled about him. His domains a reflection of his state of mind. Crops failed, peasants starved, no heir arrived from the barren marriage to Gwenevere. A desolation of the soul reflected in the desolation of the land.
A week ago I cast the Tarot for the first time in a long time. This in itself should have pointed to what was going on. The meanings of the cards in the line describing the flow of energies was as follows: The Long Dark Night of the Soul; A Clarification; and Heaven, Earth and Humanity in balance through a new way of doing.
I thought the long dark night of the soul was about the past. I hoped it had already happened. I really, desperately hoped it was about the past. It was not. The night was neither long nor dark. Still the soul quaked in confusion. It took a few days following nights of vivid dreaming to realise the card meant now. Nothing had meaning or more accurately, the meaning was not fulfilling. The image of the card returned, unbidden, whilst walking. “No!” flashed through my mind. Then, slowly, painfully and finally with a sense of relief came: “yes”. Quietly with a force like the turning of the tide, the “yes’ filled me.
The restlessness did not lift. Now, though, I recognised it for what it was.
The year I turned 14, 1975, was a whole twelve months filled with this lost wandering feeling. Best described as rebellious without a clue, this time I have some sense of its meaning. It seems to be clearing out old patterns. The emptiness of this “patternlessness” is disconcerting. I walk and feel. It does not dissipate neither does it destroy me.
While walking this morning the garden called me. Old plants needed ripping out, decay and restoration needed attention. The compost bin is now full. The garden topped up with blood and bone. Fish guts soil conditioner will follow in two days.
During the clearing of the death, decay and decrepid, Arthur came to me. We are passed the Solstice, the days grow longer even as the mornings remain cold. The garden is preparing for new growth, I am preparing for new growth. The clarification card is upon me. It may take hours, days, weeks or a moment of inspiration but clarification settles upon me.
As I breath, eat, smoke cigarettes and write, Heaven, Earth and Humanity come into balance. I can feel it! I await the new way of doing which will be final piece in the current jigsaw puzzle. Arthur stirs from his bower.
Seven short days ago a new soul incarnated on this plane. When I say a new soul, I should more correctly have said an old, old soul incarnated for their latest visit to this plane. A tiny body, a stillness unusual for one just here with a the face of lines, depths and knowings of an ancient one.
This evening he came to visit. His father walked in, passed the bub to me and went out again. Bub rolled slightly toward my chest and lay still. Others arrived, Dad came back with Mum. I was left to my own devices, babe in arms.
Eventually I was relieved of Bub. He travelled through all the adults. He passed through the arms of the children, sitting on the lounge. The dinner served. Conversations flowed from sub group to sub group, back and forth. Bub slept, Bub woke and fed. The normality of the interactions belying their ancestral roots.
Three generations, knowledge passing in all directions. Energy following thought, thought reinforced by action.
A simple meal, a repetition of humanity’s ancient pattern. A good night.
So I made a decision. I googled. I found an opening. I started the application.
“What makes you uniquely qualified? “
What indeed? Have I bitten off more than I can chew? Is this really me?
I slept on it. This morning the questions still remain but the fear is gone. As I type this the response to the original question formulates. The words will be good.
The release of last night’s existential angst has taken with it more than the surface fears. This is good. This feels good.
So I made my decision. When I walk home I will tell complete, faceless strangers on the other side of the world what exactly is unique about me.