Buying time....

Pictures include: Our house, the view of Hinchenbrook Islands, me and the Nolans, Arnie in his sand chair, Lake Tineroo in the Atherton Tablelands, a kookaburra, Jo, Ruth and Amy in Sydney, Phil, Jane Milo and Rillo in Bundagen, Mitzy the van, Meeta and snake

So, for now at least, the deep sense of morbidity that pervaded my last entry has passed and I can write with a lighter heart, a slightly improved posture and a regained sense of humour...(actually I have pretty much always been funny..) The winds of change have blown through me (Brent would argue literally at times) and spring/summer in the Southern hemisphere burns its way through the dry earth of 'Brownsville'.
I am once again back in Townsville having been on a 3500km road trip from Sydney up to Cairns and then back to Town-town again. Fortunately 'Mitzy' (see below) was, this time, well up to task having had her second heart transplant and was kept nicely lubricated for the road (I hear it helps keep her young...). She and I travelled via the 'global carnival - a festival in Bellingen (NSW), some chilled out naked sunbathing with my mates Phil and Jane, a job interview in Brisbane and then some full-on driving through the mountains and long stretches of not too much up to the north of Queensland. The Grier luck finally flickered back when at the start of the post-Brisbane leg (or wheel) of the journey I met an older couple with this super flash all the mod-cons caravan extraordinaire who gave me their camper-van bible (the Older Testament) citing all the free 'rest-areas' in the whole country so I was sorted and safe in the evenings where me and Mitzy chilled out and ate baked beans at the side of the road (not on the side of the road - I have cutlery... and she was not keen on the beans either!). Indeed, it really is one road - the 1 - from Melbourne to Cairns the highway changes names but religiously follows the coast line...perhaps typically for Queensland it calls itself 'The Bruce'! Better than 'The Sheila' perhaps....

No doubt the highlight of the last six months since returning from the UK was the visit from Graham, Meeta and Arnie Nolan to the fair and far shores of Cairns, Northern Queensland. Graham had been jetted over for a conference in Perth to give a paper on yoga and deaf-blindness and Meets and Arnie then joined him. From there they went to Margaret River, surfed, whale watched, then to Alice Spring and ate vegetarian Kangaroo and then to Cairns where a socially deprived Ruthie met them with open arms and a full esky for a 5 day road trip. We drove in convoy (although their 'Wicked' camper van was not quite as wicked as Mitzy) to the Atherton Tablelands, Mission Beach, back to hang out and get very drunk at our place for a night (Brent pucked in the pool - well at the side!) and then to Magnetic Island for some beach bathing and snake hugging which some of us were much less keen than others.... Being with friends again who welcome my crazy-bossy-bombastic nature with open hearts and to be taken the piss out of and talk shit - quite literally - so consistently for 5 days was fantastic...anyone else who dares to make the trip I promise Mitzy and I will be up for some more adventures whenever you are ready.

So life for now at least, seems to have settled down(ish) - or is it the calm before the storm...my Tarot cards keep giving me mixed messages!! I have a new job for Queensland Social Services 3 days a week and, in order to stay in the country (my visa expires in 7 days!!), and because I want to and can just about afford to, I am enrolling in a Visual Arts and Crafts course at the local college (they are called TAFE's). Indeed, I have started already and for the last few months my Fridays have been spent at the ceramics studio creating 'stuff' from clay - some bloody disasters and others not so bad - and no I haven't learnt how to use the wheel, so no re-enacted Ghost scenes you will be sad to hear. My lack of patience has been given a good outing as pottery takes time and persistence..and weeks before you can put it in the oven and paint it and make it look good....but I do really enjoy it and will be making ashtrays well into next year if I have a choice. Once the full-time course starts at the end of Jan then life will no doubt welcome its usual chaos - juggling work with painting abstract depictions of tropical fruit. What a relief my social life is practically non-existent so keeping up with the cultural whirlwind (or gentle breeze) of the Townsville scene will not have to be such a great priority.

So, I sense the blog is not really the space to share the finner points of life like housemate issues such as who buys the loo roll, or other relationship stuff...so I shall, for a change, keep schtum on such delicacies and leave it to a more personal forum - such as Facebook (only joking!!).

Crashing through....

It has been a while since I have written - or had space or even need to write and indeed, at this point, it is a hard decision to attempt to encapsulate the past few months in a digestible form as, for the last month at least, it has felt pretty hard to swallow at times...

I feel it is true to say that this has been a bit of a rough patch and at times my heart has felt heavy. The root of this melancholy seems to have come from some profound confrontations with uncertainty (car accidents, leaving familiar places, new cities, new relationships,…) that have given free reign to habits, mental and emotional, (doubt, fear, victim-hood to name a few) so intent on resurrecting and re-embracing demons of the past. That is not to say that since April, when I last wrote, life has been without its beauty, love or peace. Indeed, during my time in Melbourne I was particularly busy, feeling ‘utilised’ and ‘useful. It is perhaps the come-down from this which forms part of my current struggle; taking me full circle since the start of this blog - from being to doing and now back to being again. The problem is that at times I am not keen on this being right now and it is the fight, this resistance, to the way it is which leaves me somewhat weary, worn and a tad philosophical.

So, as indicated in my last entry I came back to Melbourne in late March and, with some fortitude, perseverance and 'luck', was able to launch into two jobs. Teaching a ‘hand-made’ course on religion to a few local guinea pigs (well they were humans but you know what I mean) and beginning a 10-week consultancy job with Collins Street Baptist church undertaking a ‘feasibility study’ - exploring how they could extend their ministry further into the heart of the city.

It is hard to summarise the experience working of for the church, but it was like no other job I have done before and touched me in a profound way; mainly through the people I worked with and met during the process. During this time, working for God, I was prayed for (for the work mainly, not my soul...that would have been a big job!)and given the opportunity to consult with the congregation and staff team - ‘experimenting on them’ at will! I was listened to, debated with, challenged and supported. In short, my last 3 months in Melbourne involved a lot of hard work tinged with some periods of sadness and grief, making some good friends, trying my hand at writing and delivering a course and embracing the increasing winter days and long nights. There were some real highlights and a lone visit to Tasmania was perhaps the top. Three days walking (in the snow!) in Cradle Mountain national park; the wilderness humbling and epic, this serjione into nature helped calm an increasingly frazzled soul and gave a brief glimpse into the sheer beauty of Tasmania, Australia’s ‘natural state’. Sadly, like other parts of the country, Tasmania is being threatened by logging and mining interests, supported by an ignorant, arrogant and worn-out government. Politricks eh.

However, while I only left Melbourne a month ago it seems like a lifetime has passed. As you may note, I have mostly fond memories of my time there and, as a city, it is rich, diverse and welcoming. Similar to Glasgow, where I went to University, I felt at home amongst its wide streets, ‘old’ buildings, art and coffee culture. Yet all good things come to an end and with contracts finished, the 10 week whirlwind tour through the six-major world religions and some feasibility explored I got my ‘new’ van ready, life packed up and was ready to go. The time for the long-lost boyfriend to come back to Australia was imminent and it was, apparently, time to move on.

It is hard not to consume the rest of this entry with words such as ‘nevertheless’, ‘furthermore’ and ‘hence’, ‘thus’, ‘however’ etc… It has been pretty much like that. Therefore…on my final weekend in Melbourne, after my leaving meal with friends; following a brief spell dancing at a local night spot, I got in a car with an old colleague Thomas, we pulled out of the road and a car went into us. Bang! Just like that. Fortunately all those involved were ok. I do like to make an impact but this was a shocker….Thus…three days before I was due to drive to Sydney, to meet Brent (whom had been cycling across Sweden not speaking to anyone for six weeks) I got bad whiplash, lost my nerve and ended up buying him a ticket to come to Melbourne to drive with me…from then on, I’m afraid, my ‘luck’ has not improved enormously and a series of events let loose like a carefully stacked domino set seemingly all toppling down spurred on by the previous…

[N.B. In the last few days (touch wood, Enshalla, God willing…) I may have just turned a slightly sunnier corner but I ain’t counting my ‘chooks’ yet…!!]

Karma, the laws of physics, the Tao of Pooh….every action has a consequence, an equal and opposite reaction, one choice leads to another, push one domino and, in some cases, they all topple... A butterfly in Beijing makes it rain in Townsville – is that the case? This habit, of ‘it’s happening to me’ – poor me – woe is me – nasty cars, difficult partners, bad choices, death in the tarot. This habit is a powerful one but it is not really as it is. I did not make the car drive into us. I did not plan my partners severe emotional and physical jet lag. However, I did buy the crap (sorry Mitzy) van that now sits engineless in a Sydney garage (I did not do my homework properly). It got us as far as Sydney and broke down – it is still there – I am not. I am in legal dispute over it and my reaction to most of these things is the same - I want to crawl up under a rock until it all goes away!...I ‘trusted’ a used car dealer – isn’t that like shaking hands with the devil and hoping he will show you the way to paradise? I made a ‘rash decision’ – bad luck, poor me, karma….?

[Am I now pulling your heartstrings with some reverse psychology? Is this reverse victim-hood? Does this blog entry make any sense at all to anyone besides me?]

Hence I have been made aware of my existence, of my vulnerability on the physical (crash), material (van), mental (stress) and spiritual (loss of ‘faith’) plane. Most of the other stuff is emotional –in-motion – and I am in-motion (while being still of course) with it, albeit restricted due to an achy neck and stiff jaw. Oh for a non-analytical mind. Can someone find me a rock please? A big one (with a comfy bed and a hot water-bottle for my neck).

So now, physically at least, I am in far north Queensland, in Townsville – towns-town as my friend Naomi pointed out. It is pretty far away from most things (as is Australia generally) about six hours south of Cairns it is on the Great Barrier Reef it is Queensland's second city (after Brisbane. It is sprawling but quite green and pleasant with lots but also not much to do. I am here with Brent who is studying and we are staying in a rather pretty shared house - what they call the old ‘Queenslanders’- on stilts with wooden floors, a small pool, possums in the garden (and kitchen sometimes), palm trees, mangos and stained glass windows. I am looking for work, trying to allow some time to recover and enjoying the sunshine – winter is already 23-27 so summer will be an adventure.

As for the future, next steps and all that, whenever I have made plans of late they have been diverted. When my expectations have been high I have been forced to reconsider and step back. However, once I am healthy again I know I will look back at this time as a (challenging) period of growth and learning. In the thick of it it has felt like I am stuck in quick sand, sinking, and at times I have really wished to simply be sucked underground. But I am trying…back into meditation, slowing down a little, eating well and allowing myself to be nurtured; watching these events unfold, participating, yet wishing to cultivate some distance, when I can, so that the humour, the spark of something deeper in them can touch me when I least expect…

N.B 2: I could not have got through this most recent chapter (ongoing) without the support particularly of my Australian friends (or friends that are here)- and of course my mum! So a big thanks and hug to all those who have listened to me cry, scream and generally go bonkers in the past 6 weeks... your help and love has been much appreciated.

In memory

Melbourne (Dubai), London, Sweden, (Dubai) Melbourne…
Summer, Winter, Spring and back to Autumn…..

Since I last wrote, all those months ago I have been round the world and back again…passed through major time zones, spanned all four seasons in four weeks and lost a dear friend, mentor, guide and beloved grandmother Theresa Zeidman….

I wanted to write again since as time goes on everyone gets on with life – the northern hemisphere opens up to spring and summer and the southern hemisphere prays for rain as nights draw in and winter prompts jumpers, scarves and pumpkins….

Way back when, on the 28th of January 2007, I re-arrived in Melbourne having landed here 3 months previously to the full brunt of its crazy climate and unseasonal frost. For the month of February, kept going by the predictable excitement of my forthcoming solar return, aka birthday, I struggled – in truth – to find my feet after 3 months of travel, barefoot antics, snapshots of love and the richcountryside of Northern New South Wales. For the first weeks I was fortunate enough to experience, for only the second time this trip, the joys of ‘backpacking’ - sharing space, rooms and resources with the world’s rich kids to whom ‘travelling’ and ‘getting wrecked’ – let alone wasting water (don’t get me started) are synonymous. I am getting too old for this malarkey! Not out of place on some level (being one of the rich kids) I was desperately miserable on the other and made my escape from the ‘biggest hostel in the Southern Hemisphere’ (you can imagine what fun that was) and found myself a room in Sari’s flat in a little district called Abbottsford, close to the river, not far from the centre of town.

So it was there I stayed (and here I now write from) until on the 23rd of Feb my world got turned upside down when I heard my gran was very ill and was in hospital with pneumonia. It is strange as you can feel so easily lulled into a false sense of security in Australia – the language is the same, they drive on the left, culturally they seems to bridge the best and worst of the UK and the US. Yet when this happened I felt so far away and helpless my world here, the fragile construct of a ‘life’ I had created for myself - fell away and I was literally pulled back to the UK – spiritually, emotionally and physically for the two days before I made by decision and flew home I was in limbo – suspended between two worlds.

I arrived in London on Tuesday the 27th of Feb at 2pm. Following the long trip I did not go straight to the hospital – it was almost as if the relief of arriving meant somehow it would be ok. She died at 5pm that day and sadly I did not get to see her; a truth I am reconciling myself with still. What was strange was that on the journey back I spoke to only 3 people – the first woman in Melbourne airport was going back to Glasgow as her dad had died. The second woman I sat next to for the flight was a Catholic nun who lived in Kenya and had gone back to Melbourne to nurse her mother who had subsequently died. She was very kind as I explained that it felt like I was literally being ‘pulled home’ she said how the dying person’s spirit calls the family members home so they are all together when it is time to let go – I figured she has a line to God so I did not argue. Indeed, although I did not get to see her I believe she waited till I was on terra ferma and let go soon after. The last man I met in Dubai airport let me send a text to my mate Graham who was meeting me at Heathrow as I had got onto an earlier flight in my will to get home. He had gone back from London to Perth as his Grandma was dying and had subsequently died. Of all the people I could have connected with on that journey somehow, energetically, I attracted people with these experiences and while I did not know she would die all the writing I did on those flights, all the communicating with her spirit perhaps part of me knew it was the end …

So, on return to the UK, into the loving arms and tears of family and friends the Jewish tradition held us up and together. Through her funeral, where she was buried next to Sidney her husband, and through 3 days and nights of shiva; the period of mourning where family, Theresa’s friends and our friends all gathered to pay respects and celebrate her long and eventful life. The first night of shiva was held at her sheltered accommodation in Ajex house in Stamford Hill. It was very amusing really, she would have laughed, a pissed rabbi who told the group of mostly old folk that ‘Theresa was a good woman in the Jewish tradition as she followed her husband’. The crowd got rowdy at one point – talking amongst themselves, shouting ‘what a load of rubbish’ to the rabbi and generally misbehaving in a way only older people can get away with. It was light relief for the family following a difficult day. The next two nights were at my mum’s place in Whetstone and I think we all felt very supported by the ritual where our friends also came for prayers and tea and cake (we are Jews remember) and to hold us up in our time of mourning.

From here ensued the remaining ten days of revisiting London life from my, albeit brief, 4 month break. Seeing my family of friends was so nurturing. While I have met beautiful people in Australia I have deeply missed my friends in the UK. People whom I have known for sometimes decades many of whom now are ‘proper grown-ups’; popping sprogs, getting hitched and tailoring their love of all things green. Seeing all the lovely babies: Charlie, Ivor, Ella and my cousins Elaine and Tony’s gorgeous girl Miya was not a great tonic for the broodiness (except when they cried and I could hand them back) but more important this was a chance to hang out with my soul group once again, going for dinner with old colleagues, meeting mates for big hugs and wet walks, being at ease.

As the saying goes (and my gran loved a good saying)…every cloud has a silver lining and part of the shiny stuff for me that trip was the chance to re-visit brief and growing love which had been planted in January and not had a chance to bloom despite some careful watering and long-distance TLC…For my final week in Europe I went to Sweden, forested, below freezing Sweden, with its warm embraces, love, romance, log fires, wood cabins, pasta, fruit, red wine and strange conversations. This part of the story is an unfinished poem – paused - patiently and impatiently awaiting its next stanza – will it rhyme, free flow, ignore all rules and begin again? Even as the co-author I have no idea only some hope and re-ignited faith….

And now I am back in Melbourne. Australia’s cultural capital – rich in art, music, wide roads and repeated street names. I came back, lagged, shagged and emotionally haggard….my flatmate was an angel – caring and nurturing. I fortunately had some consultancy work to come back to and my teaching job, teaching a religions course to adults one night a week, was also due to start so having touched the void deeply I slowly began to fill it again… Moreover, before the Easter break I was interviewed for a consultancy job to work for Collins Street Baptist Church to undertake a 10 week feasibility study for them to explore them setting up a fair trade café to reach into the community and improve their ‘mission work’ (are you still awake?). Actually it is proving a real insight - finally working for God – she is a good manager and we get on well. I meet the Deacons next week and am doing workshops with the congregation so somehow I have come back from the UK with a closer relationship and appreciation of ‘tradition’. How long though till they all find out I am the only Jew in the village?!

So having been resurrected (financially and emotionally) before Easter I borrowed Sari’s friends for the weekend and we walked 4 days of the Great Ocean Walk (the Aussies are known for their innovative use of semantics). It was just what the doctor ordered (quite literally as I had not been able to breath properly for a number of weeks and have since discovered I am anaemic) and since then I have been able to be more at peace on many levels. Waiting for the man to come back, but not waiting too much, looking to buy a camper van and live the dream and trying to embrace this stage as it unfolds…


Keep in touch folks – observations and rude commentary most welcome on the blog.

Pictures include:My family, Snapshots of Jo’s hen weekend last year, pictures of Sweden and views from the Great Ocean Walk…..

back from the other side

Well it has been a while since I have written, catching up with myself after New Year. Having said goodbye to close friends and lovers for a while I headed for Sydney for a few days before disappearing on another retreat for 6 days.

I went to Sydney last time I was here; staying in the rather lovely if not slightly pretentious Bondi. This time a friend from the Dharma gathering Simon invited me to stay in his pad he shared with his flatmate Rose and the old handsome dog Aslan in Glebe; a bohemian suburb close to the city. I had an amazing four poster bed for 4 days which I spent mostly catching up with sleep from the upside-down love story I had found myself involved in the previous week. It should be mentioned that the apartment was part of a large table shop and overlooked it from the inside. It had great furniture in and Simon and Rose were the most lovely hosts. Needless to say I returned after my retreat and behaved myself to such an extent I have even been invited back.

On the 16th of Jan I took myself, my busy mind and heart to a silent retreat setting in Kootumba, next to the Blue Mountains, 2 hours inland from Sydney. The Blue Mountains are very lovely. Beautiful, stunning, peaceful, epic, touristy in the day, deserted in the evening. While I was meant to be meditating, watching the breath and walking mindfully at times I could be found joyfully trotting round the mountain paths like a true antipodean goat. It was blissful, with sunsets and sunrises (missed them mostly) to die for.

So, the retreat was unique also. It was lead by two Sri-Lankan monks and I joined on day 14 of a 20 day retreat. Most of my 12 colleagues had been quiet for the best part of that time although there was a sharing session every other day after lunch and a service with some pali chanting in the morning and evenings. As ever I found the experience a challenge. When I cut out the chitchat I tend to notice how busy and chatty the mind is without even having another to share with. The peaceful setting, sitting observing the breath and generally slowing down does, eventually, calm the mind down and there were some moments of real peace. They were sparodic and if I am honest I only really started to touch the ground of my being by the very end on the six days by which time I was planning my exit strategy and itching to check my emails! However, it is and was worth it. I read and started to understand an inspiring and very accessible book by Tich Knat Hanh, ‘The Heart of the Buddha’s Teachings’ and I am afraid David Copperfield lay untouched still wadding through on page 460.

The main joy of the retreat, aside from the mountains and the brief interludes of real peace, was the food. The area seems to host a plethora of Sri-Lankan families who take it in turns to offer dana (donations or offerings) to the monks in the form of a meal every lunch time (a tradition they would have practiced too in Sri-Lanka). As a result us lucky ones also got gorgeous and tasty vegetarian Sri-Lankan food every lunch time where the whole family, elders and kids included, would come and prepare and set up this feast. It was like being back in South India again except I did not feel free enough to eat with my hands (as the monks did). The food, the peace, the relentless mosquitos and the deepening of my understanding were the main joys I took from that time. I have pretty much not shut up though ever since!

On returning back to Sydney I had been in two minds on where to stay and try and get some work and somewhere to live. The peace clarified some of this so I returned to Sydney for 3 days before heading to Melbourne to set up for a while, via Canberra and a visit to Amy and Adam. I had a real blast in Sydney. Katy (a friend from London) is there, Keith whom I travelled with also is now there and we partied (I had at least one tequila and a glass of wine!). The Sydney festival was just finishing up and Keith suggested we visit the ‘Speigel tent’ whom he had seen in Brighton, which was hosting a human circus/caberet show called ‘La Clique’. To cut a longer story short we went after hours to this beautiful mirrored 1930’s circus-like tent to hear the music and dance a little. While there I recognised a woman who looked very similar to my mate Naomi’s cousin Amy who is a sword swollower in the circus…..I stalked her a bit and then when she went to leave ran after her and eyeballed her (looked her in the eye not poke her eye out!). So, it was her, it is a small world, and I did get two free tickets to the show the next night which was great fun and a real adventure. Very strange the people you bump into 12,000 miles away!

Having left the whirlwind beauty of Sydney and the beautiful souls of Simon and Rose I left for the 4 hour train trip to the nations capitol, the home of parliament and where all the great decisions are made – Canberra – Australia’s equivalent of Milton Keynes! Wow, it was an experience. Amy wanted me to change her name here so instead of Amy and Adam I will refer to them as Shelia and Bruce.

So I went to stay with Shelia who is being the dutiful wife to Bruce while he completes his PhD in the nations capitol. I have known Shelia for 20 years now and we are old and comfortable friends. I was going to the nations capitol to see Shelia so it did not matter what Milton Keyes was really like. And this is true but…How do people live there????? Ok, I am a snob, I have seen and lived in beautiful places and Wood Green is not one of them but at least it has some personality. I felt like Lyra did (from the Pullman Trilogy) when she enters the land of the dead and all the harpies are trying to steal her and Will’s soul….anyway – you get the picture.

When people describe the cities in Australia they often describe them as ‘big country towns’. Bar Melbourne and Sydney I have heard this description for every major urban capital from Adelaide to Brisbane. Canberra is no exception. This ‘big country town’, however was not allowed to spring up organically but was created as a solution to the feud between Sydney and Melbourne as to who should be the nations capital. It is bit like deciding between Glasgow and Edinburgh and finding the solution in Motherwell. It just doesn’t really work! Don’t get me wrong. Shelia and I had a great time. We tried to go camping and she brought the broken tent but we went for a lovely walk and surveyed the parched landscape. We went for a swim in the local pool and a nice meal out; I watched lots of the episodes of Extras.....

To be continued - now in Melbourne

Inspired on the retreat:
On being a Bu…..

It’s so easy to be a jewdhist
So many of us about
Disillusioned with Yahweh
We turned east to
Explore our doubt

To seek the truth of our
Neurosis and to be at peace
With our pain
Yes life is truly suffering
(it’s not just our mothers fault)
And nothing is permanent
That’s what Rabbi Buddha taught

You see for the Buddha there was suffering
We know that from the start but there was
The end to it also
His teachings take us to our heart

Us Bu-jews like the end of
Suffering and we like that
The way out is a path
With eight-folds and it’s noble too
He described his teaching as a raft

So neurosis too is impermanent
Someone should really tell my dad!
But we need to work on observing it
When we feel happy, at peace or
Just plain sad
As all these states, they come and go
And that is the real
Truth
Perhaps if you look more closely
At Genesis to Exodus
You will find what I found in
Ruth

It’s true dad. This shit really works
This Bu-jism has lots to say
To mediate, to sit and watch
I perhaps similar as it is to pray?
Except that is the for the lack of
‘God’
Or that Buddha is within
But, (aside from that)
The Torah is the Dharma
And the Sangha represents our kin

So all religions that have this stuff
In common like…
The teacher, the teaching and the
Necessity of a group of friends
The Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha
The ‘3 jewels’ at which the teaching starts
And ends

So it’s ok to be Bu-jew
To be curly and meditate
To obsess about small details
To sit and watch and wait til that thought and feeling pass me
and I do not jump up to their ‘truth’
as insight or ‘vipassana’
demand a more subtle type of sleuth

A Yiddish detective of the frum kind who is dedicated and sits in silence sometimes
Who is keen to investigate the nature of life and who loves to make things rhyme
With no reason but for growing real peace within, opening to love and joy and compassion
With balance and poise this spiritual sleuth will show that
Mediation cushions, incense and shawls
Will soon be all the fashion!

wild at woodford

Back from woodford with a bang
Or two
Heading back down south to
Retreat from view

Read poems, ate chocolate
Smoked pipes and drank wine
Making friends out of strangers
Enjoying our time

Keith (curly man) and I argued
And laughed and argued again
Yet a genuine friendship
Was formed in the end
He now returns to Brisbane to stay with
Hedi and Shane (see above)
And once again Australia has welcomed
With sunshine and love

So alone again, well almost...
I revisit old friends
Travelling south towards Sydney
Who knows where I will end
But upbeat, if not reflective,
The year starts in true
And I welcome experience,
Recupperation
The ever changing
View

Missing friends and family
Yet with no desire to return
I hope to attract what is
Right for me
Perhaps
Not necessarily
The same as
I yearn

beach bum

Slight exaggeration as I have been to the beach a grand total of two times in the past two and a half weeks but I felt I had to keep up the Aussie image of beers, barbie and surf.....hmmmm, seems perhaps that looks can be deceiving!

So, I would be lying if I said a lot had happened since my last entry......However, I did milk a cow in the end, lasting for about 5 mins (in fact you need strong hands and some patience....neither of which I excel in) and I really enjoyed my stay and wwoofing experience at dharmanda. Seeing and being a part of a functioning community, observing the community meeting (at which consensus prevails so major decisions need the agreement of all members) and knowing that this has worked for the past 35 years was a really special experience. Australians seem to have a genuine 'can do' culture and what they may lack on cultural and racial diversity (in the countryside particularly) they make up for in living a life very close to nature and various animals and the creepy crawlies that pervade the landscape. I have been made so welcome wherever I have been which, I feel, is partly common experience of travelling but also indicative of a genuine openness of the people.

For the past 9 days I have been lodged in a wee caravan on the property of Fiona and Roger - two 'English' emigres who have been here a while (Roger since he was 12 in fact). My connection was with Jo who is a friend of my mate Steve who lives in a housing co-op in Wales called chickenshack so, hence, the communal theme continues.

Not so much to report in the last week - some enjoyable 'astro-babble' with Jo (born day after me a few years older) and some interesting conversations re life, the universe and everything in it with Roger, Fiona, Jo and Avi (an Israeli guy who has been here since June and not left yet!). Christmas was fun, we went to the beach in Byron Bay (about 45 mins from this place in the valleys) and had prawns and smoked salmon watching the waves - Marks and Spencer would have been proud. There were numerous men with xmas hats and surf boards who where undoubtedly from blighty - trying the reconcile the 'hot-christmas' situation by plunging half cut into unrelenting waves. I swam briefly - read: was thrown around for about 5 mins in water up to my knees - just so I could say I had done it. We then came back here and had organic chicken, tofu, mountains of food and picked our $10 xmas presents out of a hat just so we could align with the traditions of having something we did not want or need on Jesus's birthday.

So, it is now boxing day and I am off to Woodford folk festival tomorrow with a friend of my cousin's called Keith. We have bought a car together (as you do when you have met once in a night club) and will do some travelling (probably re-visiting all the lovely people I have met on the way up north). I hope to end up in the Blue mountains in mid Jan on (another) retreat to recover from the relinquishing of control I will have to endure in sharing my space with another....

Beyond garlic

It has been and interesting if quiet two weeks since I wrote last. Written on here anyway - I seem to write in my diary alot these days, think it is a travelling thing - more time to think, confront dreams and demons, more time generally...out of the London comfort zone I tend to seek solice on the page.

So I finally got into the garlic harvesting - for a week we (myself and the family I was with) got up around half 5/6 and started work at 7 for about 2 hours, before the sun got too strong and our backs began to ache too much. I really enjoy getting up so early and hence going to bed even earlier than I do in the UK! There was not too much to do in the valley after dark anyway so I did not feel I was missing out on too much! In the afternoon I helped cut and prepare the garlic for drying out over the summer months. Chopping for two hours, picking for two hours, chilling for the rest of the day - naked swimming in the river - not too strenuous but a little bit of focus and work for my board and lodgings....(although think I may have ate more than 4 hours work..)

A highlight of that week was a trip to the 'local' cinema (about 1 hour away) to see Al Gore's 'An Inconvenient Truth'. A film I kind of avoided in the UK; felt it may be a case of preaching to the converted, but took the opportunity while I could to get out the valley and meet some of the locals. It was essentially a good film. Aside from the 'Apple Mac' promotions and the shots of Al driving a non-electric car and getting on and off aeroplanes the film showed the raw facts of climate change and global warming. It is clear why this truth is so inconvenient - if we take it on we have to take personal responsibility for our impact on the planet. One of the starkest facts for me was that the percentage of scientists, published in serious journals disagreeing with global warming and rising sea levels etc is 0% but the percentage of US newspaper articles casting doubt over the issue is 53%. Where there is doubt in people's minds there is the excuse not to take action. It seems it suits the politicians and their business supporters to have the public in two-minds so as policies and practices can go on unfettered....increasingly this is the most dangerous of actions.

On leaving garlic world last Monday I went to stay at a community called 'Bundagen' resident to about 160 people, formed 25 years ago and close to the sea. It is an amazing, beautiful spot. One of the things I really appreciate about Australia is this alternative 'can-do' culture. People build the most unusual houses (mostly without planning permission so I gather), and live in a simple and natural way. Bundagen is run on 100% solar, everyone has composting toilets and there are enough skills amongst the inhabitants to make for a diverse and interesting community. I stayed with 'Phil the baker' and his pregnant girlfriend Jane. Even after 24 hours we were good friends, they were so welcoming and open...me doing lots of washing up and cracking jokes.....(I think they still liked me by the end!!). However, perhaps composting toilets and naked swimming on the beach is not everyone's cup of tea but it suited me well. I chilled out at Bundagen for 3 days, did some Chi Gung and had a shiatsu massage with 'cups' (which left large marks on my back...removing the excess heat...I should be so lucky to generate any!!).

So now I am back on the wwoofing trail at a community called Dharmananda. Perhaps you are noticing a theme here (apart from naked swimming).....communities, farming, avoiding backpackers....?! Dharmanda is an intentional community of about 30 years standing. They eat meals together 5 nights a week, taking turns in cooking, and have a thriving organic garden and dairy farm. There is lots of cheese, milk and yogurt flying about and the garden is big enough to feed the 20 community members and more. I have only been here a few days so not ventured into milking the cows as yet....(indeed I am experiencing some resistance) but I would like to have a go.

The next move is from here towards Brisbane and the Woodford folk festival where I hope to hire a camper van and well and truly live the hippie dream.....hope it runs on vegetable oil though as I want to keep Al happy.