The moment..........

Coming upon a tree in fruit or flower in a hedgerow where it was either never before noticed or forgotten about after planting - while walking through a paddock in these hills is a joyous surprise. It is the fine line of life, which has no special days but special events and discoveries, in just the ordinary way of life by the simple act of living. The beauty or bravery of every living thing, often not noticed by anyone especially those who are exhibiting it, while quietly going about the business of living the way the universe intended, fills every waking moment, and recites dream stories while we sleep. Nothing is more certain in life than living and dying and nothing is more important than to do, just because it feels right, and most especially when no one notices and it is just we and the moment.

Experiencing every moment as one of magical insight, makes one wonder why it should happen to us, and makes one hope that everyone has experienced something like this as well. It is such an experience in this instance of the discovery of the tree, it seems it is between the tree and oneself, so much so, that to sit on the ground where this pleasure can be viewed more closely and held as long as possible seems immensely important. To see that every living thing blossoms and fruits in such a way, not to be admired, but to be themselves and enjoy every moment of pleasure, and there are many, or maybe it is every moment as I have always suspected and found to be so during my lifetime.

If every moment is not special and to be considered so, it must be because I'm being to short sighted and not looking carefully enough? Because there are others who don't see it that way, it must either be because in my case, I make it so, or others make it not?

As this quote by John Keats:

I scarcely remember counting upon any Happiness—I look not for it if it be not in the present hour—nothing startles me beyond the Moment. The setting sun will always set me to rights—or if a Sparrow come before my Window I take part in its existence and pick about the Gravel. -----------JOHN KEATS

Morning in Spring...

When I wake and walk out into the main area of the cottage, which has no
internal doors and the walls are filled with bookshelves. I noted as happens
every morning for the last month, Digby's head come out from under the
blanket and cushions on the couch surveying the area round about trying to
locate me. Being a wombat, even though a baby, he relies mostly on his
hearing and sense of smell, and as I get dressed he homes in to the sound of
this or any movements which cause the floor boards to creak. Then runs in the
direction of these movements or noise with obvious joy and expectation of
finding what he suspects, which is me. I play with him in the spare room for
a while, allowing him to attack the cushion supplied for this purpose and
then flop on his back and permit me to scratch not only his tummy, but his
sides and back as well. Then he is up again, running in figure 8 circles and
attacking the cushion, and flops on his back again and so it goes for 20 or
more minutes. But I can't play all morning - he must get out to feed and I
must feed the poultry.

This morning the wind is fierce as it travels along the road at the bottom of
the hill, flaying the trees that line it. Rosella's are scarce, possibly
because of the waving branches, and they leave the seed I have placed for
them on the bird platform lay as it has been put down. The Pekin bantams run
toward me as I broadcast seed for their enjoyment, and Zoe our half grown
poddy lamb comes and feeds with them, picking up individual seed off the
ground.

The wind here today has travelled down from the north, through the dry desert
centre of the continent, picking up and playing with the heat that was
radiated from the sand at the point where it was hottest, where it met the
rays of the sun. This zephyr played for a while, carrying the heat as it
headed south, into the more moist areas and states and to where the land
meets the sea. It moved below the clouds leaving them undisturbed and
gathered strength on it's journey and when it reached the mountains here in
the south eastern corner of the country it was like dragons breath, hot but
sweet from the lands it had explored.

Carrying the crushed maize and the water into the paddock where the goose and
her gosling are in a pen that keeps them both out of harms way which is a
hungry fox, I see there are 20 Australian wood ducks on the almost dry dam
wall. Flitting amongst the apple and Tagasaste trees there are all manner of
wrens and honey eaters taking advantage of the shelter from the hot wind
which becomes tamed as it partly penetrates shield of trees around and in the
dam orchard. It's a dry, but still wonderful spring.

Water - life giving

In a land where water is scarce and at a premium, though hardly a person in the cities would realise this, we wash our hands in a bowl. We have a little water in a bowl and soap up and wash our hands with this, then turn the tap on only for a moment to rinse any soapy water from our hands before we dry them. The water is left in the bowl till the next time or the next person has to wash their hands. The hands are wet in the bowl water, and the soap is applied and the hands washed. When clean, the tap is turned on slightly and for only a moments rinsing and that water falls into the bowl, then the tap is turned off and the hands dried. This happens often and when the bowl is about half full, the contents are tipped into the washing machine, ready for when the clothes have to be washed. This cuts down water use even more.

Apathy..

Apathy is an indulgence not only suffered by our community, but actively encouraged by example. Apathy is the cart drawn by the steed called affluence. The more affluent a society becomes the faster and more widespread apathy infects and travels through the community. It can be halted in its tracks by real hardship or a genuine caring for others.

If I had my time again........

I heard Dustin Hoffman, on the Parkinson show say something that seemed a bit unusual or predictable, depending upon the view, but certainly different in my humble opinion. He said that he thought it strange that people said they would not change a thing in their lives. That he would in fact change a great deal, do very much differently. He said, ``give me back my 20's give me back my 30's and I would do things differently.'' My first knee jerk reaction to this was a great sadness, because it sounds like all opportunities that were taken by this man were either not enough, or not the correct choice in his life. Then allowed myself the contemplation of just how many other people have done likewise and feel the same.

The truth is that no one would change anything in their lives when aged 20 and 30 and such. Because after all, we acted on what we knew, the situation and circumstances to hand, and there is no point saying, ``if I knew what I knew now.'' It's a wasteful comment, which cannot produce a difference, because our parents thought they knew better and most of us didn't listen even to them. That isn't even a pipe dream, because it isn't sensible. It just won't happen and wasn't supposed to happen, because if we knew what we knew now, the same opportunities wouldn't present themselves, because we would be in a very different situation, a very different road and place indeed. Even if we thought that we could then accept some of the ``other'' opportunities which we missed or passed up, they wouldn't be available to the ``who I am now'' person. It didn't sound wistful, because a person who makes choices that please someone else is a fool trying to please a fool. Maybe this was done? If we made the choices that please us and follow our hearts at the time, would we really choose differently knowing what we do now? In my own case, hardly.

This is the old trying to take the lead of the young and pull them through what they experienced, and find the entrance is just too small. Things have changed far too much to ever allow such a thing to work for the individual, and though there may be some instances where this could be a desirable thing, it would still mean that the person being dragged is of the same temperament of the one doing the dragging. If we fit the mould of the older people, then we have not grown, have no progressed and have spent little time thinking. The responsibility of the old is to tell he young what happened to them, and forewarn them from this experience, and then let them go. The old are not supposed to control the young. They are only guides - no more. Decisions have to be left to those who have to live with them, those who have lived have made their choices and if they need to dream, it may be more interesting to dream about the opportunities presenting themselves to the young.

The Stumbling Woman...

The stumbling woman on ABC regional radio Sunday morning before lunch, must either be very old or must never quite have her brain completely attached to her mouth. She stumbles over words and tries to make it appear that she has her mind and the thoughts it contains in hand and under control, but she's painful to listen to her. I can only suppose she is not just waffling, but is saying something of importance, the problem is that she is impossible to listen to because of her stumbling habit. I also assume that she does in fact have her fans and loyal listeners who enjoy her banter. But she is the stumbling woman to me, and I can't listen to her for long without my teeth starting to ache.

Tao what......?

Contemplating the Tao. Looking on the net to see how people think and feel about the Tao, I noticed two discussion forums of sorts, which were strange because both had links so that money could change hands. Not unusual in this world where money is the driving force behind most peoples thoughts, and actions. But this from someone who lives the Tao? It did seem a bit strange. Money can be an aside which might be fallen over or picked up from the ground or accepted if offered, especially if hunger is rampant or a willingness to help another is not within ones current means.

That there is so much being written about the Tao suggests there are people wondering, even trying to discover more about it, possibly attempting to make it a tangible thing. This could be the reason that many religions fail, people don't want to be seen as being daft and believing in things that don't exist to their six senses. Whatever they are, with all their limitations. These senses of the body are not the senses of the being that is grafted onto it for this journey.

The Tao is a very normal method of living. Tao shouldn't even be written with a capital at the beginning, because there is no need to distinguish it, it being a philosophy of humility and knowing the individual as one unique, requiring no accolades and able to live in a way which doesn't need, want and even shuns notoriety or notice of any kind by society and its followers. The philosophy is complete in that it believes not only in life, but also in death and fears it not, and therefore does the natural things naturally, trying to help and succour all it comes across. Noticeably the Tao becomes ``it'' the person becomes part of the Tao.

The Tao is really living a complete life. Living life without the pain of trying to accumulate anything, therefore there is nothing to protect.

Wandi Book Fair

There is a wonder to know that all these books belonged to people who thought they would like to read them, or actually read them and found they would probably never want to read them again and donated them to the event that gathers money for the hall committee. People walking down the narrow isles between the trestle tables and the books. Some of these people donated books and are now looking for others that they want for whatever reason. The books initially nicely compact on their edge with spines facing up on the tables, starting to lean as their support from the book next to them is removed and placed into someones green Eco friendly bag or cardboard box.

More and more people stream in through the door and the dealers and second hand bookshop owners come and go. Filling their bags with books, paying and taking them to the car and coming back again for another look or pick up those they had to leave due to lack of room in their carry bags or strength to carry to their waiting cars. These are much like bees gathering readable pollen or honey, taking it back to the hive and returning to collect more.

Most people are there to look for authors or books they have yet to find elsewhere, or books that will complete an authors writings, or just to pick up a years reading. The atmosphere is busy as eyes speed read the titles, and people pass or overtake one another, excusing themselves as they come in contact wait another in the aisle in their quest for the books they seek or for titles they may recognise. It is an environment of quiet concentration, and constant coming and going through the open doors. Everyone finds a few treasures.

Just musing...... no more

I have never been too comfortable with a blogspot for some reason. First there is not a great deal to say that would be of interest to anyone. If I had few enough people with which to correspond and discuss the issues that concern me, maybe a blogspot. But why should these things which concern me, be of concern to any other person?

There is a Taoist or Zen saying which suggests to travel everywhere we need never leave the place we are at in any given moment, that we can tap into the whole of the planet and the universe where we sit and meditate. But is that right? Only those who can do it will know it can be done.

There will be much to consider, because with each day there is something which comes to the fore. These may not be pressing things, but then the pressing thing will hot need to be dealt with because they will be already too late. The extinction of species is a classic example. Trying to stop that is hopeless, already too many species have been wiped from existence, and is that a good or bad thing. It is, nothing more.

So maybe this is a good sounding board and there will be some who feel in part as I do myself, and those who do not, will just do as they feel and ignore it entirely. This is a place to get things out into the air and allow them to oxidise, to become as they will, something more tangible and so allowing me to better examine them.