I reject the things that bring me joy. They are impermanent, cumbersome burdens that tie me down. One practices detachment more and more as one gets older.
But still, as long as one is prepared to let them go, one can smile and enjoy them. Then, of course, there are the bigger things, the ones you cannot hold onto - the wind, the birds in flight, the bugs, the seasons, the sunshine through the window in the late afternoon. These would be harder to let go of, when my time comes.
There are objects that remind me of the bigger things in the universe that go beyond the material, touchable, seemingly permanent things that I attach value to.
the hum in my chest
the spirit that rushes in
seeing the ground from the sky, the sky from the ground
your heart beats in time with mine
we are born, we die
The painted brass 'om' is faded now, once red and green. It is obscured by the grape which tangles and entwines the posts which surround the greater vegetable garden. It is a constant reminder of the sound of the universe, the all pervading oneness that is the divine that connects us. Out in the garden I can feel that sense of unity with all things.
I pick broad beans and feel the soft inner casing
pop peas onto my tongue
rub herbs between finger tips and inhale
this is a life of riches.
did you know some birds train their offspring to recogise song in ovo?
birds teach us to step light on the earth
the most important thing here is the bird baths are full
they need us, we need them
A white goshawk occasionally lands on the posts of the vegetable patch. A flock of gang gangs sit in the peppermint gum and croak like rusty doors. A noisy wattle board swings off the kangaroo paw flower. A harem of blue wrens curiously approach when I weed, knowing bugs will break surface. A baby magpie falls ungracefully out of the nest, and sits clumsily on the driveway, recovering.
a conundrum: we're running out of oil
yet the road beckons: the simplicity of it
What a large, cumbersome, unwieldy, uneconomical thing to be in love with. We have spent so much time restoring her that she has become her own person, dear Buttercup, with character and old world style. She will be hard to let go of, when it comes time to sell.
we're all running out of road
ebb/flow
born/die
dawn/dusk
rise/fall
gain/lose
Dear dancing Shiva, destroyer of the universe, creator of all that is, father of Ganesha, the one who carries the burdens of the world, great compassionate one, source of strength and guidance, god of transformation and renewal. The gods here on my land are not because I am Hindu, but rather, because they remind me of essential aspects of life. I appreciate the philosophical and spiritaul aspects of these deities, find insight and inspiration by engaging them. Shiva was bought home from Indonesia years ago and takes pride of place in our bookshelf. It is also Shiva who was gifted by India to CERN, the centre of scientific reserach and the home of the large hadron collider. Shiva is a reminder of the interconnectness of art, culture, and science - in the home of a writer and a scientist, this resonates deeply.
a wetsuit drips from where it drapes over a line
the scent of wax
salt on skin, eyebrows
skin tingling with cold
the slide of the board down the green line
a memory: my father steps out of the sea
I have three - a stand up paddle board, a 9'1 longboard, and this red one which isn't really mine, but my son's. Actually, it was bought for Jamie, but he doesn't ride it. By default, it's mine. It was shapped by Peter Ashley, a deaf shaper from back in the old days that knew me as I was growing up. He's retired now, but his boards can still be seen every now and then, vintage stylie. Not being a surfer, Jamie wanted this board out in the shed. No way would I let it gather dust. It sits in my yoga room. A surfer likes a board as an ornament.
*This is my response to this challenge by the Mimanlism community.
