Homeward Bound

~

Photo by Christian Heeb found at totaltravel.co.nz

Hot Air Ballooning on the Canterbury Plains
with the Southern Alps in the background.

Up up and away...
I'll be home today
Hurrah Hurrah






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12 Good Reasons to be Thankful for Getting Older

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Recently Reya, at The Gold Puppy discussed getting older and what age range now constitutes middle age.
The post made me wonder why getting older has such a bitter taste to it for many people.

What is wrong with getting old? I commented on Reya's blog that I had dozens of good reasons for enjoying getting older.

Later I thought that perhaps I should put my money where my mouth was and set about to articulate some of those reasons. I quickly found the following, and I couldn't stop at just 12 reasons...























If you too are of a certain age and are enjoying getting older, please share with me your reasons for feeling that way...



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BLOGANON

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No prizes for knowing where the bloggers are...

It would seem that many of us are suffering from the same affliction or should I say addiction.

I tell my beloved that I am waiting for the novelty to wear off as I am a relative newcomer to blogging. It doesn't appear to be happening. My enthusiasm has not waned at all.
In fact, I am finding that this silky thread I am weaving across the seas, in and out of foreigner's homes, and lives, and interests is becoming more and more complex, colourful and interwoven in its design.

I have found people with similar interests, with rich and creative lives, with the same appreciation for life, and with a shared curiosity for and awe at the workings of this universe of ours.
I have also found people whose interests are very divergent from mine but with whom I have made an acquaintance or a friendship which would never have occurred in the threading of my normal life.

The spinning pattern of interwoven threads that is produced by my meanderings and engendered by my writing and the stories of others has something of a self perpetuating cyclic nature.

Like the rat's tail knitting I made as a kid on an old wooden cotton reel around four tiny nails, I find that the tales I tell lead me to the stories of others, which in turn take me to places I am unaware of. And as I weave my way around the globe I am continuously inspired, reminded, stimulated and provoked by stories and posts which lead me to new corners of my mind and imagination which will in turn spawn further new stories.

A word or a thought or an image will leap off the screen, or a line will jump from the newspaper, a spark will shoot through my synapses, or a word fall from the mouth of a friend in conversation and I will know that I have the germ of an idea which I can catch and thread yet another story in this fine, rewarding and shared web of blogging.


I think it best that I sign up now...

But then again, I don't think that I can...

Stay by Ken Wong illustrator, found at

http://www.funderberg.com/index.php/artist/the-art-of-ken-wong/

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Wordrobe

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This sign over a fashion store in Tokyo appealed to me. When you think about it a wordrobe is quite an apt description for that repository of vocabulary that we have acquired over a lifetime and that we now choose from to express ourselves on a daily basis.

There are words in the wordrobe that I can pull out and slip on for any life occasion:

casual words - to use at the store or to slip into a crowd
dressed up words - to articulate an issue well and impress
elegant words - to charm and seduce
hooker chic words - to talk tarty and smutty
togs and thongs words - to walk the beach and dive the waves
daggy gardeners' clobber - to have a yarn
professional jargon - to sound erudite and obfuscate
evening words - to whisper sweet nothings
bohemian hippy with wafts of patchouli - cool man
special occasion words - for pomp and ceremony
matey outfits - to joke around the barbie in the back yard
those outfits that fit well but are stiff and starchy - stuck up, arrogant, ego blown words
everyday words - well worn trusted, honest, reliable words to communicate clearly and succinctly
crusty shorts and t shirt words - to sing salty sea shanties
odd job should be in the op shop bag words - for hackneyed phrases and preaching aphorisms
moth holed, mold spotted phrases - empty cliches that need tossing
sleek and sexy numbers - for smooth talking snake oil selling
overdressed combinations - verbose, gushy garrulousness, saying a lot - meaning a little
harajuku shockers - to disturb and discomfort
goth-emo outfits - with maudlin, pessimistic tones
dress up, fancy dress, party pieces - full of humour and laughs but short lived and shallow
Sunday best words - - pious, virtuous, holier than thou words
well loved know it suits me outfits - that become your catch cry
hand me downs - tried and true, full of memories, family sayings



As our garments serve to clothe our bodies in varying degrees of modesty, style and flair whilst reflecting our personalities, our choice of words similarly functions to either clothe or bare the soul.

As in my choice of apparel I tend to prefer everyday comfortable words that are able to convey my messages with simple efficacy, warmth and sincerity. Words to tell a story, share with a friend, have a chat with - trustworthy, genuine and gentle words.


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I Love You This Much

~

I Love You This Much is another delightful mixed media work
by Rebecca Cool.

My new baby daughter
just beginning to talk
told me one day
I so lub you
mummy

It has become our signature
goodbye message
sign off and endearment
I so lub you

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Stories

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Last night in bed I read this passage in Alexander McCall Smith's novel, In the Company of Cheerful Ladies:

There were many such stories
he understood how important they were
A life without stories
would be no life at all
And stories bound us
did they not
to one another
the living to the dead
people to animals
people to the land

Why are we, all the thousands of bloggers out there in blogland, labouring over our keyboards, risking potential RSI, furiously typing stories and uploading photographs to create pictorial narratives?




Some people write for the enjoyment of writing, as a form of self expression and creativity, others to keep a record for themselves of their activities and reflections; they may write for family, friends and future generations.

Others may write as a way of remembering, triggering old memories, reigniting passions and issues.

Do we write because we are aging and feel time's winged chariot hot on our heels, or because in the autumn of our lives we tend to reflect and muse on the past more?

Do we write to better understand ourselves, as a form of self therapy, reflecting, reappraising, evaluating the life we have lived and are living?


Why do we write stories?


Story telling is a universal activity in which people of all cultures indulge. Evidence narratives are known throughout history and yield common themes . Cultures tell stories to keep track on what is happening in their communities. They also use stories as a training ground or preparation for future interaction with others. Stories allow people to learn the customs and rules of their society. Story telling is a learning tool for the development of relationships with others in our social group and promote social cohesion.

On the individual level the imagination required in story telling, and essential for the understanding of the story, serves as a proving ground for vital social skills. In addition, through stories, we can pass on knowledge and life enhancing attitudes to future generations.


All stories appeal to our emotions and our capacity for empathy. This empathy, or ability to walk in someone else's shoes, engenders a narrative transport. We are carried through the words of the story into the world of the teller and our emotions are inextricably tied to those of the story's characters.

The theory of mind trait - that ability to feel empathy, allows us to attribute mental states , awareness and intent to others. This trait is essential to social interaction, communal living and to the understanding of stories.
Stories are word pictures that convey lessons learned, offer warnings and advice, entertain, inform and educate, remind us of time honoured values and principles, and give an insight into who we are.


Have you considered why you write your blog?


I am inclined to believe that we write to understand ourselves better and by exploring our rich inner worlds through the vehicles of words and stories we come a little closer to revealing our real selves that lie within. Having an audience is a way of connecting that part of ourselves to the lives of others in this blogging community. Our stories are the multi-coloured threads that connect communities, connect people to the past, connect people to place, connect people to animals and connect you to me.










I have used the article by Jeremy Hsu in Scientific America as a reference for this story.

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Regrets - I have one...

.

This is me floating on the Dead Sea.
It's an amazing feeling.
The water is an amazing colour
and the smell of the minerals is amazingly horrible.

It was easy to float on my back,
I wondered what it would be like if I flipped over...
I rolled to my side
and whoosh my legs flicked out behind me
and I was cast,
like a dying fly on the window ledge.

To extricate myself from this pose
and return to my first position
was a battle to keep my face
out of the mineral soup.
It may have done it good

One word of advice:
If you should ever
want to bathe in the Dead Sea-
Do not allow vanity insist
you shave your legs or underarms
Because you will live to regret it.

A Hole in the Head

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The day we visited the Parthenon it had been raining. If you have been inside this temple of Emperor Hadrian's design you will know that it has an oculus - or eye at the top, about 140 feet above the stone floor, - which on that day was very wet.

In building the temple with an oculus Hadrian's intention was to have us consider that we are both of the earth and enclosed in it, and we are simultaneously exposed to the infinite universe.




Thomas Moore in his book 'The Soul's Religion', suggests that the oculus can represent the mystery which envelops and permeates and stands at the centre of our lives.


He tells us that the native people of the Great Lakes are taught by their shamans about the oculus which is represented in their spiritual culture by the Pleiades constellation and also by the hole in the top of the shaman's lodge.
Through the hole in the lodge and the doorway to Pleiades the soul can take flight and communicate with the heavens.



The Hopi Pueblo people have a similar doorway in their mythology but this is found in the soft spot on an infant's head, and they teach that we can open the door in the top of the head and let ourselves be guided.



Thomas Moore argues that if we are able to find a gap in our thinking, or frame of mind, - do some emptying, - we can make a space to receive spiritual inspiration - and the mysterious and the infinite can enter.

We can do this space-finding in a variety of ways - either in time and space - such as a meditative corner or a quiet walk; we can find it emotionally through suffering, loss, through breakdown or an impasse; or we create it intellectually through the emptying of goals, expectations, facts or beliefs.

"When we are foolish enough to leave a hole
in our own intelligence
or smart enough to install a well oiled door
in the tops of our heads
grace can pour into us."

The image of the rain drifting down through the oculus to the stone floor below in the Pantheon reminds me that if we have faith enough to open our minds and our hearts and allow grace to flow into our souls then we may hear the beat of the universe both within and without our own citadel.




Thomas Moore, The Soul's Religion - Cultivating a Profoundly Spiritual Way of Life, Harper Collins

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Little Calamities

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These are my glasses.
Do they look a little odd to you?
Hmmm
This is how they look
after someone's car ran over them.
Flat!


My day started with cystitis
Thank goodness I managed to get an early Dr's appointment
Mr car battery went flat
Thank goodness my husband was able to come and get me
30 minutes waiting when you have cystitis
is a very L - O - N - G time
It's raining and blustering
A cyclone is bearing down on us
Thank goodness for the weather channel
I lost my glasses
Thank goodness I have a spare pair
I know I had them on when the battery went flat
I went looking for my glasses
Thank goodness my daughter's car was here
My car needed fixing
Thank goodness for 'Jeep Assist'
and a caring helpful son

Despite today's litany of little calamities
I still have a lot to be thankful for


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Trust

~

Many moons ago when we were travelling through Mexico my husband decided to experience the thrill of para-sailing. After a brief introduction they harnessed him on to the tow rope and off he flew into the sky. See that little fly speck way up there under the parachute - that's him.






It was a gusty day and my husband is a slightly built man weighing less than me. On his return to earth this Icarus of mine had a spot of difficulty. The power boat towing his parachute completed its final circuit and slowed down as it passed over the floating pontoon that you can see out in the ocean with two attendants on board.

Instead of dropping gently from the sky and landing safely on the deck or in the arms of the waiting attendants, my husband stayed up in the sky buoyed by the blustery wind. The boat made another turn around the bay and passed over the pontoon again, but to no avail.
On the third circuit as he passed over home base one of the attendants was able to reach up and grab his ankles... And then they both took off.

The boat switched into reverse and did some fancy maneuvering until the second attendant was able to catch the first attendant who was dangling off my husband's legs and they all three fell into the sea. But Hallelujah he was down!

Here he is coming in to land, well then again maybe not...

I asked my husband if he was anxious during this ordeal. He replied, "No, they had obviously done it all before. "

Later I got to thinking about putting your trust in other people. Sometimes you have to trust someone else when you are in a tricky situation. Others times it may take two people to help you, or even a whole team of people.

We rely on people with experience and expertise. People with skills that are different to our own. People with life experiences that are different to those we have lived through.

These people have strategies and ideas that we may be unaware of. We can learn from them. They can help us and guide us. Sometimes we know we must have professional care or help and we seek it out. Other times we find it hard to ask for help and to put our trust in our friends.

And then there are the times when life just demands that we put our faith in others and trust that they can get us to a safe place.


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Get a Life

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I received a warning from one of my daughters yesterday who told me that I should be careful with my blogging because it was going the way of my card making ( read obsessive, and hear the derision in her voice...) and that people will start to think that I am crazy.

My other daughter, with somewhat more concern, asks me in the evenings when she comes in from a hard day's work, what I have done all day. And tells me to get a life.


I have for over nearly forty years juggled the needs of a husband and four children; the need for a home to run efficiently and smoothly and for it to be warm and comforting; to meet all responsibilities, duties and obligations of being a parent and at the same to develop my own interests; to keep fit; to go back to school; to study, study, and complete more study; to earn new credentials and to put that qualification to use; to be a business partner and sounding board; to give time voluntarily to the children's school and to the community.


I have juggled all these needs and endeavours like a frenzied circus performer in a big top full of bustling, noisy, jostling, sweaty performers and I am now so relieved, so glad, so joyfilled to be able to put aside all those competitors for my time and energy, all those demanding needs that flew around my head like celestial bodies in a crazed sky out of kilter.


And now I can take the time to breathe and know that I am breathing

to look and know that I am seeing

to feel and know that I am connected

to think and know that I am learning and opening my mind

to wonder and know that I am in awe


I don't need to get a life

I am immersed in one, living every moment:
Like my paddling it may be slow, one stroke after another,
it may be simple
but it is full of light
and shadow and colour
I feel the tug of the breeze
see the birds coasting home
marvel at the Brahminy kite
soaring with his eagle eye
I have family to love
and friends to share with
And I know that I am fortunate.

My life travels at a gentle pace
but it is mellow and rewarding

I don't need to get a life
I have a rich and deep life
and it is full of the Lovely


Oh Happy Days


The painting of the Juggler is by Nicolette Cecolli

1972 ~ Frizzy Locks

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1972 ~ Frizzy Locks ~

~or, as in my beloved's case~

Hair today and Gone tomorrow...




Hair

She asks me why
I'm just a hairy guy
I'm hairy noon and night
Hair that's a fright
I'm hairy high and low
Don't ask me why
Don't know
It's not for lack of break
Like the Grateful Dead
Darling










Gimme head with hair
Long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, flaxen, waxen

Give me down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer
Here baby, there mama
Everywhere daddy daddy

Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair










Let it fly in the breeze
And get caught in the trees
Give a home to the fleas in my hair
A home for fleas
A hive for bees
A nest for birds
There ain't no words
For the beauty, the splendor, the wonder
Of my...

Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair











I want it long, straight, curly, fuzzy
Snaggy, shaggy, ratty, matty
Oily, greasy, fleecy
Shining, gleaming, streaming
Flaxen, waxen
Knotted, polka-dotted
Twisted, beaded, braided
Powdered, flowered, and confettied
Bangled, tangled, spangled, and spaghettied!










Oh say can you see
My eyes if you can
Then my hair's too short

Down to here
Down to there
Down to where
It stops by itself

They'll be ga ga at the go go
When they see me in my toga
My toga made of blond
Brilliantined
Biblical hair











My hair like Jesus wore it
Hallelujah I adore it
Hallelujah Mary loved her son
Why don't my mother love me?

Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair

Lyrics of Hair by James Rado and Gerome Ragni, music by Galt MacDermot

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The Gift of an Image

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Images, like symbols, are mighty powerful things. They have the ability to evoke emotional responses right across the entire spectrum of human feeling.

Bombarded as we are on a daily basis by the multitude of images we see in the blogging world we are exposed to regular delights of beauty.
But I wonder if this over exposure to beauty can make us inured and immune to the beauty in the array of imagery we are presented with each day and in life itself or whether it heightens our sensitivities. I for one don't ever want to become blase about beauty.

I know I grapple with words as I attempt to express my wonder at the essence captured by these talented photographer bloggers and I feel that my hackneyed phrases and terms of appreciation have been dulled and sullied by overuse. But I persist in trying...

I also feel rushed when I open my blog and see, on my Blogs I Follow column, the goodies in store for me to read and view and know that in my eagerness to sample a bit of everything I am not doing each posting justice.

The new tick the box response reaction offered by Mr Blogger is a further means of diminishing our reactions to wonder and our ability to express those feelings in writing.

James Hillman said:

"The images are where the psyche is..
The gift of an image is that it affords a place to watch your soul."


If we want to get to know ourselves that little bit better, to plumb our depths, to wonder, to muse, and to enjoy these images - they deserve more than a cursory glance. They require more than an instant of our time.

I suggest that we allow ourselves a few more moments to savour the images, to let them talk to our feeling system, and to feel the throb of resonance, and to get in touch with our souls.

As Joseph Campbell said:

"The world is full of people that have stopped listening to themselves."

I don't want to be one of those people.


I want to be one of these:


"Images foster people of wonder rather than conclusions and make for people of wisdom rather than opinion"

Thomas Moore.




The buoy image is by Paul Signac, a French expressionist painter.

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An Expression of Gratitude

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When I began blogging, only a few short weeks ago, Dan was one of my first acquaintances. Daily I contribute three of my blessings to his ongoing Gratitude blog. Reflecting on my abundant blessings is a good way to end the day and I thank Dan for providing the venue for that to happen.

But Dan offers much more than that. Dan likes to sow spiritual seeds and they encourage me to think and act with mindfulness. In addition he has generously given unstinting encouragement through daily responses and genuine interest. I am grateful for Dan.









To my 'ancient of friends', Alden, I would like to give thanks for the adventures on the high seas that you so colourfully relate and the ability that you have to throw a philosophical slant on daily activities. Thank you for your ongoing support and your ribald sense of humour.









Meri has opened her heart to her readers in sharing her wonderful gift of poetry. I feel privileged to read your work and view the unique way that you express yourself though your art.
Thank you for the soulful beauty of your words.










I feel lucky to have found Reya. Her topics of discourse are varied and eruditely written. She wholeheartedly responds to the many comments on her postings and displays an authentic interest in fellow bloggers' pages. Reya posts words and pictures that make you think. Thanks Reya.









Violet has provided me with much joy through her variety of photographs allowing me to live vicariously in a stunningly different part of the world. She is warm and generous in her ongoing comments. I am glad I have met Violet.









Mary is the 'm' lady ~ mesmerizing, moving, moody, mellow photographs which are often perfectly matched with a succinct quote.
I'm grateful for Mary's magical take on the world.








My fellow bloggers in order of mention are:

Dan ~ mindfulheart.blogspot.com
Alden ~ yachtee.blogspot.com
Meri ~ meriak.blogspot.com
Reya ~ thegoldpuppy.blogspot.com
Violet ~ violetsky-wwwblogger.blogspot.com
Mary ~ inasoftlight.blogspot.com


I am grateful for you all. Thank you.
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Two Camels, one Goat and a Boy

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This photo appeared in last Monday's edition of 'The Australian'.
Two camels, one goat and a boy. If you ever have the need to get them all into a little hatchback here's how you do it...


But the big question is : How do you get a camel to fold up its legs and climb into the boot?

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The Unbearable Lightness of Being

In 1985 I fell in love...




... with this book. When I passed it on my bookshelf recently I pulled it down to re-read. I wished I hadn't.
What I had once been enthralled with had lost its allure. I found it tedious, tenuous and boring. I re-read the book to the end hoping to find a spark, any spark of the potency that it had held for me all that time ago. I was disappointed.


So then I got to thinking about how this could be. How something I was once besotted by could now be so empty and meaningless. I am glad I persevered with the read because I have learned that the way I felt as a woman with three young children plus a life of domestic responsibilities is so different to the way I feel now.


Then I was heavy, weighed down and I wanted to feel light...to escape the repetitiveness and drudgery of my days.

Now I have grown roots into the earth and feel grounded, connected - heavy - but like the gum tree across my river I am floating in the summer sky, moving with the breeze, feeling the sun and the rain - I am light, and I can draw up from the great roots...

Words from Robert Bly