Tuesday, December 20, 2011

something astonishing presents itself

With everything happening on this planet that is evil, horrendous and without redemption there is one thing is astounding and delighting  me .
It is not a metaphysical construct or understanding, not a mystery to be unraveled; it is a physical object.
Comet Love joy was discovered by an amateur astrologer, Australian i think.  The name is vital here whose name could not be cooler, yes Lovejoy.     Now a short while ago we were told that this comet would burn out upon presenting itself into the sun's atmosphere. Except that it wasn't destroyed, it emerged in tact and whole.  Not only did it come out but it came out with a beautifully strong tail.
It will be visible early morning in our skies here in the southern hemisphere at this auspicious time – the summer solstice.  Or Winter.  Depending on where one finds oneself.
So at this time when in the name of the religious gods, evil continues to wreak its suffering - there is a sign in the space around us which carries such potent symbolism.  Love and joy enter the fires of hell and emerge unscathed.
love will prevail
joy will expand.
both will shine

It is time.  It is time.  It is time.

Wishing all of you brilliance, understanding, love, joy and peace

Sunday, November 27, 2011

bholonath, nina, zoner, genie, neil

thank you so much for visiting.
and bho thanks for the link.  there does seem to be an octopus meme at the moment.
something to do with their ability to squeeze themselves into nothingness.
and you know it would not surprise me if they could cope with radiation better than other sea creatures.
 gladly they can't get stuck in fishing nets as they would be able to squeeze out what will kill their neighbours. 

but moving from ocean to land .......
oona and nina during break

a few months ago a friend of mine was considering leaving the village.
she had built a cob house in the village almost solo but needed to earn an income.
happens to be one of those teachers that just manages to bring out the creativity in all her students.
an undogmatic waldorf teacher is my friend oona.

i don't want her to leave and as she is telling me this iona is battling down the passage  with the sewing machine.  her brother has offered to pay her in freshly picked apricots if she fixes a shirt.
oona gets up to go and help her and an idea was born.
she now has a center of creative expression which consists of 6 kids.
 a birthday - the group makes a cake

she loves going off to 'school'  absolutely no pressure,  just a celebration of all of life in a very cool group of people.  

the group has been going since august and yet there has been a fullness in her experiencing that i wish each child on the planet could have.   i love that this child will for days go to school with unbrushed hair and there is no issue.  i love the way that she can go barefoot even through winter without some school laws engaging her wildness.  i love the fact that she has made so many beautiful objects on her own.  i love the fact that  each child in the group is so unspoilt and so in touch with their environment.
i love how iona's love of animals has become an integral part of the school day and school life.
painting their cushion covers

exploring their kingdom.............

look at the focus on nelaya's face

mary clays

a lot of magic happens here......

Saturday, November 26, 2011


falls in love with the octopus .....

and as a result i do as well......

Monday, October 17, 2011

taking care

to find the plants to nourish and heal

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

A second in hell.....

I am driving along, slowly in the town.
I see a young girl on the side of the road waiting – and then in the next second there is a thud and the windscreen splinters.
Oh my god.
I pull to the side of the road.  My heart is beating so fucking fast.  I ask the hitchhiker next to me if he is able to go to the child.  He says no.  I can’t move towards her.   I find myself making my way to the vets rooms.  I know the women there.  Tanya immediately goes outside.  Sandra calls the ambulance and police.  I am sitting on the bench where I normally sit with my animals, but now there is some internal animal of grief and shock in place of them.
The chairs are red plastic.  I see people streaming to the child.  I just breathe very heavily, very deliberately.   There is nothing I can do.   An accident has happened and I was the instrument.
In between I scream deeply and loudly,  I am torn apart.
Tanya  walks to the child – Ruanda – 7 years old who is lying in the middle of the road with people all around her but no one actually down on the ground with her.  So Tanya (bless her) goes onto the ground and talks to the child.   The child asks her if she is dying and she answers of course not silly- you are still talking aren’t you.  The child and Tanya bond there whilst waiting for the ambulance.
Tanya with her enigmatic aliveness and compassion just showering onto this child.  I am inside not knowing if she is alive or dead.   It is the most agonizing state of not knowing.   The ambulance comes and Ruanda asks Tanya if she will go with her to the hospital.  Tanya said no, but that she would go and visit her there.  Her mother was there as well.  But like me could not bear to do what Tanya did so effortlessly and graciously.  I could not have asked for a better angel c being at that moment.

Unable to drive home, Sandra delivered me to my door, where I was met with embraces and support.  
Tanya just called to say that  Ruanda was released from hospital and is fine.

So after the shock I find myself in a funk.    Like a low grade depression moving in and then this voice says out loud – for fucks sake susan you should be joyous and you should be celebrating.  Yes you were in an accident.  But  the child is safe,  you are insured, your license was in order (kind of rare).
At any second it could have become a racial issue, because the group gathered around could so easily become a mob, as is happening with frequency nowadays.  People are just getting hungry enough for intolerance to grow.
Everyone involved in this ‘accident’  from the police to the insurance, to my friends at the vet – for Ruanda herself in that her destiny was not to die or be maimed at that moment in time.
And for me, I obviously had to have this experience at this moment in time.
Otherwise it could not have happened.
So I am sitting here with a fat smile on my face and thanking life so intensely for me not being  in profound grief right now.
Thank you for making the lesson so light.

It is about making each moment count - we never know when it will be our last.

I choose to dance with life more fully than ever before.

And the fact that Gadaffi is still free and fighting those fuckers - well it just makes it more of a celebration.

 Sage when he was younger - i love the shadow of the snake on his t-shirt.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

A testimonial of healing.....

Pieter sent me this letter that he was sending out.
I found it so extremely beautiful and truthful that I wanted to give it greater readership.


Artwork by Burnie     :http://fingeryou.blogspot.com/

If you have seen me in the past three months, you will have noticed that I
have been swept up in a wave of renewed strength and joy.

There’s an upbeat energy pulsing in my veins and it is evident in every
aspect of my life.

I feel more patient, loving, optimistic and aware of the presence of Love.

The turning point came on 22nd July of this year when I met a very powerful
healer from Brazil. She is respected by all who meet her. Some fear her, but
most revere her. She can assess in a matter of minutes what it is that you
need and then provide it in the right form and quantity.

Whether at the physical, mental-emotional or spiritual “level”, she meets
you where you are and then brings you back to balance.

She can be merciless in the way that she dives into your depths and brings
up your “stuff”, instinctively knowing and choosing what is appropriate.

To meet her is to step out of the hallway of life and into a room of
alacrious reality.

I’ve never seen healing like this in all my 24 years of being involved in
the healing arts/sciences.

I spent three evenings in a row with her and then later a fourth, watching
her at work with me, my family, friends and several clients that I had
referred to her.

I came to respect her and the people with whom she works - enormously!

She “read” me easily and correctly and went through the various aspects of
my life, telling me exactly what was needed to bring each to balance.

She was accurate on *every* count and I believe that just her presence
helped heal me in fundamental ways. There are still places in me that await
further attention and I’ll be going back to let her dig deep and cleanse out
my furthest, darkest “recesses”.

It will be my privilege to open up and allow further healing.

I had tears of joy and gratitude rolling down my cheeks after our first

I cannot speak too highly of her.

Her name is Ayahuasca and she takes the form of a plant - a vine that grows
in the Amazon, to be exact. When you drink of her nectar she reveals herself
to you and then you are left in no doubt as to her wisdom, love and healing

If you would like to read more about this profoundly effective plant
medicine then take a look at: 

There comes a time, in the journey from illness to health when powerful and
extraordinary measures are called for. See one man’s account of healing from
liver cancer with this plant:


and another who experienced healing from deep depression, as the Ayahuasca
took her on a harrowing journey to recover the aspects of herself that
splintered off in childhood:


Ayahuasca was introduced to me by two solid, honorable and talented men who
won my respect for their skill in conducting ceremonies and dealing with
human complexities and they have my gratitude for bringing her halfway
across the earth to meet me.

They are Yawa Bane, of the Huni Kuin and his South African counterpart and
assistant Nixiwaka.

Three weeks ago I was offered the opportunity to get to know this teacher
plant more deeply, this time on her home turf - the deepest Amazon jungle.

I feel delighted and privileged to have received an invitation to join a
small group of South Africans, led by Nixiwaka, who have been granted
special permission to travel deep into the Brazilian Amazon,  right up close
to the frontier with Peru and to live awhile with this tribe, the Huni Kuin
Kaxinawa, from 12th December 2011 till 4th January, 2012.

To find out more about the tribe named “People of Truth” who live so close
to nature, take a look at:

Or http://sunmoon.ens-mail2.net/qyaraueweataeqmavayhbq/click.php

In order to avail myself of this opportunity I need to take some time off
from family, friends and clients. No problem - they understand that it is
the opportunity of a *lifetime.*

To avail myself of this amazing offer, it will be necessary to fly to Sao
Paolo, then by small plane to Rio Branco (five day stay over) and then a
boat ride up the river to the home of the Huni Kuin, along with my
contribution to food, accommodation and medicine. This will take
considerable funding.

My recent past and current circumstances have made it impossible for me to
have put savings aside for such an opportunity yet I feel that my vitality
and aliveness are calling out for just such a journey - one of those forks
in the road that says, "Go big, or go home".

Would *you* be at all interested in meeting with and partaking of this
unusual and powerful healing plant, with the help of those who are
experienced in her ways - thus bringing the spirit of the Amazon into your
life, whether through sacred ceremony or individual work?

Would you be willing to help me make this dream come true, whether through
advance payment for encounters to come, with the available guide/s of your
choice, or simply as a donation that will put a smile on my heart for the
rest of my life?

Please let me know if you are moved to help me, whether in some small or big
way, to melt away my comfort zone to* *more fully rediscover the ancient
ways, and then bring this inspiring, teaching medicine back for you to
experience in turn.

Kind regards,

Pieter van der Westhuyzen.

Friday, September 16, 2011

Stepping out of mind.....god willing

My mind is no longer my friend.  I don't know when we reached this impasse but it seems to have stretched for an eternity. It is what comes between what is.   It is not that there is any animosity towards it.  It is , rather there occurs a delight in its absence.  Alongside the most profound thought I can have, is the pettiest thought.  With the most noble feeling is  ride the smallest sense of me.  Thought is mind.
Mind can be rampant if unchecked and seduced.
In the space between thoughts there is a stillness,  a cherished space where nothing can touch the untouchable.   A space of pure being - the natural state.

And yet what seems to have become a pattern is mind is running the show for longer stretches of time.  Or maybe not even more spent in its tyrrany but rather more emotions arising in its presence.  Mostly resistance - resistance to that over there arising in 'this world'.  

Upon awaking in the morning, my son Tao and I head up to the dam where we do our sungazing and walk the dogs.   Because we are in a mountain kingdom by the time the earth spins sufficiently for the sun to be visible it is already quite intense.  It starts off as a strip of light around the mountain and gradually exposes  its full beauty and majesty.  The dam full for now due to winter rains, is either still beyond belief or raging with its own patterns.
At this point all is well in my world.  There is peace,  there is tranquility and there is silence.

Until I come home and turn this machine on.  And link myself up to hell.  My main attraction was to the people I have come to know and love on here, but I see and hear too little for them for the balm of love to heal.  Instead I sit and cover myself in excrement.  Like today for example  Cameron and Sarkozy today declaring they are going to keep bombing Libya.
Like Prick Perry apparently being behind a bill to make the guardasil vaccine mandatory.  49
young women have already died for this and yet this industrial murdering machine allows it to continue.  And even here in Africa big pharma is threatening to shut all us herbalists down.  We won't even go into hackgate and how the entire met in London is free masons.  Is there any wonder that justice had not been served for Daniel Morgan or Madeleine McCann.
And every day it just gets sicker.  Every day I find the stench getting more unbearable.
This is the energy I am aligning myself to.  This is where I put my attention.  And does it help in any way - not a squat.
Can I stop myself from watching the cesspool.  No.

Just go and look at WRH today.  I don't think the page has ever looked worse.   Every story is such a travesty.  One wonders how on earth it got so bad.  Like going to sleep with a mouth full of chewing gum.  The damage done.  On to the next one.  My entire body closing down as the 57 trillion cells that I call me, sense the rest of its body's slaughter and heartache.  I feel it to the core.
The village baker catches me on a walk the other day.  She can just look at me and say a number up to 10.  When she says 10 then I am somersaulting in delight, if one then I am almost under.  She say 2 - and I go yeah.

My spiritual teacher tells me it is all just an appearance.  And I just feel well this horror at the injustice might just be an appearance, yet, it is appearing.  I am not separate from the child in a burn ward screaming, screaming, screaming.  I am not separate from the mother hearing the screaming and her heart smashing open.  And all she can do is hum softly.
In Iraq, In Afghanistan, In Gaza, and now in Libya.  Like 57 trillion cells that make up this body/mind in the dream, are connected to every other 57 trillion cells that make up other body/minds.  All one cell in humanity - human unity.

And then I listen to Jed  McKenna and he says he looks upon burn wards and opening flowers with the same eye.  And that too is true.
There are so many ways for this experiencing to manifest.

By grace, after several hours wrestling  with the magnitude of this injustice - life calls me into the garden where I partake of a plant.  And suddenly as the smoke rise, mind sinks.   There are no burn wards, there are no heartbroken mothers,  there are no corrupt cops.  There is no injustice and stupidity.  There is simply the sun,  the uncurling leaves,  the sweetest aromatic smells of spring.   My amygdala  dance in joy and delight.  The malachite sunbird swoops in op die wilde dagga.   The life has risen again.  It is unfurling and I am experiencing it.  Full on beauty.  No concepts or stories.

Ahhhhhh-  but there is that mind again that feels the need to be taken back to the scenes where so much is felt.   And again the 57 trillion cells are kept away from the beauty and life and fed something different.  Not meaning to pontificate in making a value judgement about one way being right and one way being wrong.  And I would love to accept whatever appeared.  But for that to happen, this individuated  mind needs to lose itself. It is not even about choosing it.  It happens, it unfolds.  It appears to be part of the programming.  How does one break away from the conditioned mind?  

I find myself in the garden by some spiky cactus.  I am told it is san pedro.  growing right at the back, to the right of the vegetable garden.  I have noticed how quickly it has grown.  I also see that there are parts that have been cut and the ends placed on the earth to re root.
Tao comes over to me and we look at them bathed in the sunshine.  Some mouse birds nearby in the loquat tree.   The chickens foraging passionately  around us.  He looks at me and asks me if I want to try it.  Why not - We prepare it - way too much of it.  A long process.  We drink it  - way too much of it.  And it tastes bad in addition to being slimy and gelatinous.  An instant gagging process but I want a break from mind - i want to return to the natural state ,  nothing else calls me deeper.

And as the plant energy causes a change in consciousness, mind feels this absolute terror.
I breathe into it.  I know it is too late to bail out.  I have deliberately eliminated milk thistle from the environment - i want to lose my mind.  And yet when the decoding starts I petition to the energy.  Firstly I beg for gentleness.  No smatterings.  No aborted awakening landing one in a life time of shizoidism.    I don't even want the beautiful visions and patterns.  What my eyes hold in this paradigm is of beauty enough.  I don't want anything that is not always present because then it will be lost.  So plant, show me what you are and thus what I am.
And then I find myself with my true intention in taking that plant and that is to know love.

And suddenly the hallucination turns itself off.
The fire is burning beautifully and there are two candles on the table.  There is a picture I have placed on the chair opposite me.  Next to this image lies a cat.  Every thing is as I know it - there is a great peace - there is a return to  normalcy.  Except that the picture on the couch  is moving.  The face is definitely moving.  The eyes stretch into a smile and the cheeks move in and out as it breathes.  I go to get the picture and bring it closer to me.
This  body is so very light that it feels as if my arms hardly exist - and yet in this lightness they reach out to the frame.  And the next thing I am looking at love.  Pure love.  Those eyes are these eyes.  Not separate.  Not two.  For hours and hours the gaze continues.  Tears flow river like.  Bliss.  This is Bliss.

Suddenly this reality changes.  The plants have availed themselves to me effortlessly and with no cost.  The journeys become increasingly frequent and are always solo.
A year ago I spoke of how Pieter wanted to move into the city and put the kids in schools etc.  He journeyed with a shaman into the land of ayahuasca and he saw the light.  He is wanting to bring the plants into his repertoire.  The dream keeps changing.

A few nights ago I dreamt of enormous boas.  Several meters long and bigger than my waist.  We were in a tangle and I was absolutely helpless.  I was being taken by the serpents.  The next day we are offered a place in an ayahuasca  ceremony in a village just over the mountain.  One has to go around the mountain to get to it.  Very different from here, much greener, much softer.

So once again the opportunity arises for the healing that happens in the absence of identification.
A ' teacher'  says no action needs to be taken.
And of course he is right.
Once again mind sits in fear that it might just lose itself.
And still the dance is danced.

I enter this realm again  with the intention  of love.
Nothing more than love.
May it fill my very being till completion.
May this cell in the body of humanity catch some light.

Note :  The face above, that of Ramana Maharshi.   Meeting his teachings was an eye opener.  For many years I had one book.  And no photograph.  And at that age I was prone to devotion.  When we moved to this village, I met someone who had been to the ashram in India and who gave me a photograph.  A few years later I went myself and the librarian took a shine to me and sent me boxes of books and photographs of Ramana.   Suddenly we had these pictures and after the fire they were the only pictures we had.  Slowly they found frames.  A friend of mine, an over top extremely camp decorator used to walk in roll his eyes and say oh god the ole guy again.   So this picture is always with me.  Always.
And yet on this occasion it spoke.
It spoke the only language worth hearing.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

maybe, must maybe, Libya can prevail.

Well, we were told Tripoli had fallen that Muammar Gadaffi was slinking away in the sewers and this heart froze.

No, no came the scream from the entire being.
If this madness is not brought to an end now - then it will never cease.
The insanity of corporate takeovers becomes nation take overs.
And now it is not the photocopiers that are split up between different sections, it is real limbs, it is real families, it is the total future.  And yet funnily enough it always plays out on the stock exchange.  If we note,  the American market has not plummeted to the bottom of the ocean where it belongs.

Many years ago I had a dream of being in the desert and coming upon an encampment and meeting this man. In the dream there was no conflict and he was in a rush to another area, yet I was taken by his empathy, his presence and his humour.  Why this dream arose I have no idea, but I have always looked upon him with the utmost respect.

And yet, what does one do in the face of this onslaught.
Which is total.
But which does show that this man has a lot of support to have survived what he has survived.
My prayer is that he continues to not only survive but to overcome and in turn become the conqueror.

Several things arise:

Every half an hour a candle is lit.
At the end of the day there are candles burning throughout the house.
Each one has the intention for the mammalian energy to win this war.
The energy that speaks of equality, of honouring the people in your land, of having a faith, of living with integrity and not deliberately harming others of understanding the intelligence of community.
On the other side of this is the reptilian energy which is solo - actions which are taken for the benefit of one and never more than self.
Thousands of black Libyans are currently being rounded up by the sponsored killers.
Muammar is speaking of not hiding like women but destroying it all.
Because why the hell should they leave anything for the invading forces to benefit from.
Maybe, just maybe this determination might just be  the one which event in space and time which  unhinges the axis that this warmongering has benefited from of late.
And some forces feed on the blood bled  and yet other forces celebrate each act of truly tribal organisation and dynamics and the harmony that arises from that.

It has occurred to me that we are not powerless individuals anchored in the waters of chaos and horror.  That we have the ability and the majesty to create what we desire.  Not for our individual selves, like the car and the home and the picket fence and such, but those desires that are for the greater good of all.
It is a standard meditation to breathe in the white light and release all the darkness from within oneself.
I feel it would be appropriate if we all breathe in all the horror happening in Libya right now, bring it into our own beings,  meet it there with full awareness and presence,  and release back to Libya the purest light and joy.  The absolute best intention.  A faith in divine intelligence prevailing and winning.

I don't know what else to do.
Please join me in these simple steps in taking care of our fellow cells in this vast body of humanity.
Let the light shine in this darkness.

Monday, August 22, 2011

My apologies to Libya

I am angry.
I am so angry that I do think spontaneous combustion could occur - if anger had any cause to play in its happening.
I can't move away from it.
I have snapped at my kids, just yelled at my dogs, swore at my neighbour.
It feels like gravity has grabbed me and sucked me into a downward spiral and no amount of awareness of conscious breathing seems able to stop it.

I know over the past years we have all ranted about many things.
The oil spill, god i don't want to even bring to mind the fucking insanities that we have witnessed.
Fukishima did not do this to me.
There was a natural element in it - something that once opened could not be stopped.
Could kill us all but could not be stopped.

This war in Libya has been on going for 6 months.
For 6 months any nation in the world could have done something to stop it.
No - one.
Not one country efforted to stop this travesty from unfolding.
Not Russia, not China - no - one.
Pontifications would get small notice in the press and yet no ultimatum.
No hey guys unless you are out by such and such we are going to attack......
Does Nato not have enemies for gods sake that could benefit from helping Libya at this moment in time and thus halting the imperialists from the  killing of Islam in their wars.

Nope, it appears not.
They are all players in the same game.
All fucking killers and looters.

  Whilst hospital wards in an ancient city are filled with trauma so unimaginable to us.  So far removed from our lives.   - thousands of families are today in the deepest shock, physically , mentally and spiritually.  Their faith must be tested so fully right now that my heart pounds for them.
Cameron returns home from a little holiday to be on hand for the fall of Tripoli -
wearing his genteel summer clothes.
and I gentle being that I have been want to take him and cut him into little pieces.
And his nemesis on the other side of the ocean.  The one who sold his soul to his keepers.
And equally their puppeteers , their manipulators.
And I can't rise above it.
And I can't rise above it and see it as a dream....- all a perception, all just a dream.
I hear voices from this land, and I see images of people from this land and they are real.
They had lives before this and now there is just ruin.
Last night over 1300 dead and the hospitals overflowing.
And they postulate in the liberal corners - but they do nothing to stop it.

And the lying media whores who sanctioned and allowed this to unfold -
I curse each and everyone of you, I find no forgiveness in my hearts for you.

I can't understand how this can happen.
Again and again and again ......
My heart has broken open - to the people of Libya I offer my smashed up heart and my complete loss of faith in my fellow man and the most sincere prayer for total transformation for all of you.

To Libya -

I am sorry
Please forgive me
I love you.

Monday, July 11, 2011

The beauty of imperfection....

This fast collapsing reality has gone through several phases.  It went from shock, horror and rage then settled in a sort of bemused disbelief and now it has settled into a feeling that I have no words for.  A dull heaviness.  An incomprehension of how this can all continue for so long.
And with this came a thickening of the frown lines and an absence of the laugh cracks.  And the thing is it does not abate this force driving towards extinction,  right now there is not even a lull whereby one can regain one's balance,  reach equanimity.

With this feeling pervading I find myself invited to a mycelium gathering in the city.  A place I usually avoid at all costs, but I needed some input here.  Needed to move beyond the thinking and back into the heart space.   Strangely the city that I normally shun, offered something that I sought.
Bidding farewell to kids, animals and home the road before me opened up.  Along with gale force winds and storms to tell the future generations about.  And yet, the usual trepidation was absent.   Leaving the single lane farm roads and joining into the multi lane configurations also left me unaffected.  Just watching everything.  Noticing the baboon tribe by the tunnel and the infants playing on a switch box.  Wondering how come one never sees baboons run over.  How do they do it, they often come down from the mountains to the highway to seek some entertainment.  To go and check out the humans as we stream past, stopping to sometimes feed them despite the warning signs not to.  And then through the tunnel which always makes me think of Diana and her last tunnel experience,  and yet this somberness does not penetrate.  For some reason I am less inclined to be in effect.

But you know as soon as you think you are improved in some way,  presence conspires to set you up.  She does this by upset - ing you.  set up.  up set.  Just when I think I have reached a place of truth and comfort,  life just shows me something that leaves me asking myself do i actually know anything at all?

This question leads me on this journey.
It appears that in the dream state, when it is recalled in the morning by the waking state, the feelings are different .  For example in the waking dream,  I am on a journey with my partner.  I have such a strong longing for a resumption of physical intimacy with the man and yet I feel unable to approach anymore.  And in this dream I really am okay with the absence of touch.  Funnily enough at the guest house, when shown a choice of rooms he chose the one with separate beds as the 'cozy' one.  And I was so okay with it.  Went to sleep in my own bed with a big smile and gratitude.   Yet in the dream I was screaming at the top of my voice,  love me,  touch me.  So which one is it,  which one am I.  Am I both or am I none ?

We are sitting at the beachfront.  There is a light drizzle.  It is not a wild beachfront, it is gross outer city kind of stuff.  Have just come out of a mall where rampant consumerism was witnessed,  envy felt,  even a bit of a poor me arising.  Now we are waiting to go the gathering but need to pass some time.  The yellow lights on the promenade go on.  The sun is almost setting .  The top half of the sky is a thunderous black and a slither at the bottom is a brilliant orange.  On the beach two men are scanning with detectors.  I notice both of them are getting their legs wet and cold in the Atlantic ocean.  There is a heaviness in the car.  No words just sitting.  The phone rings and it is answered.  His voice all jovial,   It happens often.  It is no big deal.  I am okay with it.  He gets out to walk and I sit in the car,  feeling 12 again.  And yet in the dream I had that night I found myself lying on the floor in a Russian psychiatric hospital screaming how I really want to respond not react, why can't I just stop reacting.  Again which one is me?  The passive 12 year old sitting in the rain,  or the raving screaming disappointment of someone unable to pull away from habitual reaction.

And then we arrive where the gathering is to take place.
A fire greets me.
19 of us willing to lose control of thinking sit in our cocoons chewing on our shrooms and helping it down with some dark swiss chocolate.  candles flickering,  music embracing I watch my fellow travelers start to receive the gift of the plant.  Normally called teacher plants but I like Zoner's name for them - plant allies.   Sat upright iin a gathering of people,  all willing to have a shift of perception.  All open to a loss of the norm.  All ready to be touched by the unknowable.  Felt such awe for the fellow travellers.   Tears just fell down.  Not of sorrow but of pure pure joy.  Feeling love and nothing but love.  That night there were no dreams.

And of course in the morning there is the voice that says ah that was astonishing and now of course I have realized.  And then of course life slices in with a gift that once again goes to show that there is not going to be one final realization.  They are constantly happening and yet I have been seeking one big one that would end the need for all experiencing.  And of course that is not what is about.   It is about the dynamic play of Presence through this being.   No past, no future,  this dance that is danced.  This breath that is breathed.  This life that is lived.  With all the nuances, textures, inspirations and challenges.  Amidst those pure states of being.

In between all the stories flashing in front of me via this screen,  all of them so touching, the one that really inspires me are those that are standing up to the authorities as far as feeding the homeless go.  I saw an image of a table of beings serving food to a queue of beings.  The fact that this is illegal and they could be arrested is just the crowning glory on the insanity facing it all.  Humanity is coming into its own.  Moving away from selfishness that we have come to be and moving towards a situation where it is no longer about me but us,  no longer about them but about we.  The air is crackling with potentiality.  Rupert Murdoch's slide makes me smile - the systems are falling down.
A song found me that just caused an outpouring of love.  Was sitting in my study, feeling the sorrow that always enters upon conversing with my mother.   These interludes in presence once again highlighted my lacking as a daughter.  How this one person has come as my greatest teacher.  Knows exactly how to push buttons and thus highlight my attachments and defenses.    So I am listening to this song and feeling this regret and my fingers click and a posting appears about a mother having parted this earthly realm.  This combination created an outpouring of love  which by some miracle found its way to the woman who has mothered me tirelessly through this life.  I found those words that are so vital being uttered to her -  i am so sorry,  please forgive me,  i love you and upon saying those words a veil lifted.  A contraction released itself .  

There is truly such power in love.

The One Who Loves You The Most :
When the sky is falling from above you
And the wind is raging from the coast
And you want someone who truly loves you
I will be the one who loves you the most

When the masquerades in burlesque falls
But come too ordinary to boast
You complain about the rain and hurting calls
I will be the one who loves you the most
I will be the one who loves you the most

When the women with their stolen graces
Don't invite you to play host
To their daughters with fake faces
I will be the one who loves you the most

When all the debutants desert you
All the doorways are all closed
And all the harlequins who've hurt you
I will be the one who loves you the most
I will be the one who loves you the most

When you'll suit a sneering swank beside you
And leave you hollow like a ghost
And you just want somebody to come find you
I will be the one who loves you the most
I will be the one who loves you the most

When you forgive your imperfections
And you've auctioned all your clothes
And you look to see your true reflection
You will be the one who loves you the most
You will be the one who loves you the most
You will be the one who loves you the most

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

the purity of cycles

I don't need to say anything more than that but it is bubbling up within.

With everything going on that we are being made aware of, today
something just tips the balance.
Something happens that makes me say - whoa - wow- gosh and shit.

A plane crashes in Russia.
44 passengers dead.
Upon reading that the first question that arose has to be
"who was on that plane?"
Sure enough three hours later we are told about the astonishing
co-incidence of there being two top nuclear engineers on board.

I have never thought of a third world war.
I thought it would just be the imperialist nations continuing to blitz
whoever they felt like with no one opposing their actions. 
And this has carried on for an agonizingly long time.
The perpetual appeasement.
The perpetual speaking out against the acts of war and yet enabling
their continuation by the lack of action taken.

Yet you cannot continue to watch the attacks by the nwo once your
own nation is attacked.  I somehow imagine that in the passages of power
honest men (oxymoron) must be paling at the information coming to light
in view of the events unpanning.

The empired states is reeling with so many disasters and yet continues to
make money on wars elsewhere.  
I who will normally manage to find some point of comfort somewhere, at this moment
in time I find none.  Not one.

And so once again I am forced to go within.
The outside has exploded.  It is just for the shrapnel to start flying.
What an astonishing time to be alive.
It is completely beyond imagination.

Whilst man is pushing buttons, and manipulating what can be manipulated -
the cycles, with the innate intelligence, unfold, unveil. release what they contain
and the next cycle begins.
No agenda other than clarity.
No purpose other than a close return to singularity.
The manifest arising from the emptiness,
the manifest dissolving again.

Brahma waking up,  and blinking his eye, contains earths history.
So dramatic and extreme and yet not even a day for Brahma.

Friday, May 27, 2011

playing in the coloured sky....

Friday night I walk.
I walk for many hours – as I approach home the sky is the most brilliant red.
Crimson all round.  The mountains reflected on the water of the dam are purple.
Two fish eagles fly above me – circling, calling, and soaring.  The dams are empty and awaiting rain.

Listening, hearing, there are an awful lot of dogs barking, from all over the village.
The waning moon rises.  The following morning, I am again woken early by the dogs,
I get up to let them out, the sky is again this crimson, this brilliant magenta, flashing all around, and now in the morning the mountains are black.

Red sky at night
Shepherds delight
Red sky at morn
Shepherds warn and with that arising in mind, I decided to be alert to weather and patterns as a shepherd would need to be.  Wanted to understand this red sky thing.

Decided on the spur of the moment to take the teens and pre teens up the mountains.
It is fun for some, hard work for others, extremely challenging for one or two.  Iona went up ahead of me and twice got into trouble but thankfully Cian had chosen to shadow her and guided her.
This inspiration of kids moved so effortlessly up these boulders and rocks, shining with aliveness at being in the wild again.  Sasha asked me what I thought about the sun that day and I said it was strange because I had been thinking how very weak the sun was on that Saturday.  There were thin clouds that it would normally penetrate by 10 in the morning, but the whole day it was obscured almost like the sun in Mumbai is always covered by the smog.  I have never seen the sun so weak.  It was almost as if the atmosphere had changed and become thicker somehow.  She said the same thing.  And yet I read that people in the North are saying how fierce the sun is.

At the top we sat a while, some exploring further.  The strangest thing happened.  The air became extremely warm and the leaves off some of the trees blew off with some force. Something shifted that was totally felt by us.   Sitting up there I felt completely at the mercy of that wind and what it could bring as effortlessly as it has been doing in the past few weeks.
I felt this sudden urge to get down off the mountain.  No one argued, and  we descended.  When we had past the tricky part we settled again and no storm came.
Yesterday I went back to the mountain, but alone this time. The sun was still fuzzy and weak. 
 I found a very old oak tree, extremely large, stretching to eternity both upwards and outwards.  Three enormous branches had stretched themselves out just a few inches above the ground.  They each twisted and turned as if they were vacillating about which way they wanted to point.  To the cliff face, or to the softer mountain, To the valley or to the forest.  Enormous branches long dead,  just spiraling down and hanging.  I get an urge to swing it, to give it movement – it swings widely.
The urge then arises to sit on the one mother branch.  Sitting with my knees falling outwards,  almost like a squat.  Feet bare in the rich soil.  Fallen, monocoloured leaves in varying stages of decomposition.  The most recently fallen ones, the most newly dead are in actuality the most dead.  The liveliness of decay has not yet begun.  It is only when they are soft and pliable that they are consumed with life force again.

Many dead branches lean against the other branches so in this squatting, it sets the branch running adjacent to the one I was seated on,  which stretched forward and banged on a very young oak, creating a sound,  a drum beat.  The sister branch would move simultaneously, and I could never see the link other than the trunk which was several meters away.  Both these branches created sound, two drumbeats, and the the swishing of a branch against the leaves, and the few bird calls coming in and fading out.  Nothing else.  No other sound.  No other motion.  Just me and this tree and the fuzzy sun.

And then it occurred to me that this would be the perfect time to do the sun salutation.  And once that faded then chanting began.  None of this planned or even contemplated.  Constantly surprised by what unfolded.   
Gate gate
pārasamgate bodhi svāhā 
 "Gone, gone,
 gone beyond,
gone utterly beyond, Enlightenment hail!"……….
 This tree as a fully awakened, realized being.  The most powerful presence I had ever been in and along with that playful and joyous beyond measure.  Sometimes chuckling for minutes and then laughing out loud.   Then the thought about leaving would arise some other movement would happen.  That part of the forest was alive with movement and music.   I would find myself climbing up the branches, hanging from a branch, lying on a branch, lying on the thick leaves.  It seemed like my whole life had brought me to that moment where I would spend several hours in the full presence of the tree.  This is what it was actually for.  I could never have imagined such playfulness.  Such intrinsic joy.  This body stretched and fell and moved and breathed and this rich untouched tree essence weaves its magic.   

And from this space, and this pure joy, it was my wish that all beings could feel this lightness.  that humanity can  transcend the bullshit it has created as itself and return to the primal joy.  The joy which is dependent upon not-hing.
In the last week the talking about the coming changes, to the actuality of the changes has happened.  To me every day I feel a palpable shift.  What was solid in the past is not so today, what was known yesterday is questioned today.   The light is still different. 
The crimson sky, the ancient tree, such wisdom and strength revealing  itself shows to me the perfection of it all – even the perfection of the imperfect bits.

And that night the rains found their way to the landscape.  Gentle rains that lasted longer than five minutes, yet soft enough to leave the land undisturbed, unravaged. 

Monday, May 9, 2011

the irreverence of my death

 - funerals.
the hushed silences,  the tailored undertakers,  the overpriced, overharvested wooden coffins
in this country, so many live on the very basics.  everything denied.  for so many the only party one often has is the one at the end of your life.  the one you can in no way enjoy.
you can't enjoy it not only because you are not there,  and even if you were there just viewing it you would not be able to enjoy it due to the fact that it is such a waste of money for the people you love and have tried your whole life to support now spending five years funding via sickening loans on your departure.  that is where you get recognised for being a human of value - when you are no longer there. 

the cheapest funeral that is not a paupers, comes in at R18 000 - and the weirdest thing is you have to go via the funeral parlour.  why is this - well it simply became a law when governments made it mandatory for certain companies to have the sole financial benefit of burying people.  so someone dies and immediately the right channels are put in place, the police are informed,  the banks are informed and your account immediately frozen - what a fucking cheek.  just when your family needs the money most, your account is closed because the government needs to ensure that they get their cut on it first.  your money going to the sharks and seemingly no one ever questions this.  and the funeral parlours put this all in place.  they are the penguins of death.

i always figured that your point of departure should follow your desire,  not some catalogued, outpriced, zero optioned ceremony.   growing up i aspired to an opheliasque kind of scene in which i would be sent down a river on a log raft covered with tons of petals, honeysuckle and rose (which would mean a winter death - but hey) -  and then the river would twist around a corner and someone would hit an explosive (organic and harmless of course) and that would be it.  just the sweet smell of burning flesh and singed blossoms.
now it has changed somewhat - just leave me out for the vultures.  put me in the veldt and bugger off and let these buzzards eat me.

please god don't let anyone stand over me at any point committing my soul to anyone on any plane.  please god don't let anyone say that my departure is a loss and a sadness.  please let us not mention jesus or his venegal father.  keep all gods out of it.  just avoid the parlours, wrap me in a carpet,  travel the distance required - hoist me out the boot and place me on the ground.  try and ensure that if my eyes were opened that i would be happy with the view.  i would definitely want to hear laughter,  i would definitely want some jokes directed at this way of being.  i would then want you to all bugger off and leave me on the earth as food,  as nourishment , as something rapidly disappearing.

and one day,  someone on earth  will remember me or recall me for the last time,  and then this memory will be completely extinguished.
why does this bring me such joy and peace?

i think funerals are such a total waste of money and resources.  wrap someone in a white cloth and place them on a pyre, and if they choose not to be burnt, wrap them in a cloth and bury them in the earth.  if there is no strong, solid box to slow the worms ability to get to you and consume you then you will quickly  cease to take up space.  and in however many years that would be, another body is placed in the hole - who cares - you won't be there to share your space anymore.  maybe just a skull or a few bones,  but who you are will not be there at all.

so enough of this bullshit.  death is a business.  death is something we are taught to fear.
for me death is the moment of liberation - how can i mourn or deny that.
let us live life so totally in every moment that we keep the universe entertained with the fullness of our roles we play.
let us be larger than life,  let our laughter dominate the streets,  let our joy fall onto others,
let us live to the full -  and when that is over , then let us die with irreverence and delight.
not having lost -   having only gained.   

Monday, April 11, 2011

Tears as a portal for transformation

To me an angel is someone whose very being, creates an impetus.
Always monumental either in the life time or in death.
It has to be this way for the desired effect to unravel.
An angel must have the capacity to enable transformation.

In the past few weeks, the continued tenacity of life magnified even further.
Ever deeper into a numbing sense of disbelief and shrugged acceptance.
On the screen it appeared that the planet was wrecked and heaving.  
 No sign of hope or survival.
A bleak landscape of a destroyed country, forced into the past by nature..
A targeted  African country, destroyed by evil…..
Dead and dying fish and birds  in their thousands.
Solar flares solaring
And with every passing second, a new revealed insanity, cruelty, injustice..
There was so much out there that negated 
the beauty my soul wanted to believe was there. 
And yet I keep looking outwards. 
Despite the despair and uncertainty and sometimes jubilation and sometimes fear.  
 Jubilation when I think it could all just be over, in the blink of an eye.

So I despair deeply for life on this planet.
I don’t know why but I feel that you John Peter also felt 
the claws of the gross inhumanity facing us humans.    
The difference being I am willing and hoping for the entire planet to end with me.
You were far less selfish.  You were willing to step out on your own.  
Iona upon hearing what had happened spoke of how brave you must have been. 
‘He did not know what was going to follow and yet he still did it.  
That was very courageous; she said.
I can’t imagine you calling for an asteroid strike, 
for   an immediate end to this seeming madness. 
No I was calling on the collective controller regaining power and flattening us all.   
Yet you - Master of your own fate.  Captain of your own destiny.
Played your own flute.
Moving into your home and connecting with your family 
moved me into a situation 
where I experienced nothing but an outpouring of love.   
 Total honesty presented herself, 
there was only the aching rawness of fully felt pain.
And with that total honesty and acceptance came love.
John Peter – your marked and deliberate absence caused
such waves to break out from our hitherto contained, hardened hearts.
Whoever heard of the courage of your parting, was firstly completely numb
and then moved to the deepest sorrow and concern.
And we have all been taught from the cradle that sorrow is to be avoided at all costs. 
That we should seek happiness, peace and joy, 
but we must resist the counterpart vehemently.   
We do this by encasing our feelings in safety zones. 
And sadness is not safe, we must avoid it.  
 Except, here in this space, your familial  home ,  it was accepted. 
And with each expression of the sorrow felt and remembered, 
waves lifted and moved outwards touching everyone in their wake.
And in that space, was the deepest most profound love.
Everyone became that.
Everyone merged into their natural state.
There was raw reality – with total acceptance.

Upon hearing the news, the mind
 raced around trying to find a file that  could make sense of the situation
 A frantic bid to find the safety mechanism that would make it ‘alright’ – ‘not sad’.
And there was not one.  There was not even the slightest hope.
There was just the closing up of the tent flap,
And calling on life to enable some kind of healing.
And many did this simultaneously..

The few people I have seen in Mcgregor since my return, have spoken to me 
their stories of how this event has changed their lives.
Kathleen speaks of how her resistance to things has just melted away.  
 She now just says oh just does it.
And finds it effortless and pleasurable.
Annie Noorgarb speaks of how many candles have been lit 
over the past week and how Mcgregor has felt this absolute surge of love.
  How for her too resistance has faded.
Feeling around the thing comes to mind 
is that what we have now is Awareness in plain sight.  
 Everyone is in a heightened state of consciousness, wherever one looks. 
  Aware of each potent moment.

Your blessed mother,  in the deepest sorrow would still catch herself out. 
  She would say something like I should do…
.and immediately would stop herself and say no I want to do ……… 
in the deepest grief, the mind was controlled and observant,
not subject to unconscious tyranny.

It’s bizarre to say this and I really hope it does not defend anyone
still stuck on sorrow with no redemption.   
 But I really get that your ‘death’ was more significant than any
recent birth I have been aware of. 
No one stops when a child is born.  There is a light celebration - 
but you don’t stop what you are doing when a friend gives birth.   
 A joy arises but that joy does not carry the power of transformation.  
 Does not carry the gift of the introspection that sorrow  demands of one.  
   Your departure stopped us all in our tracks. 
There was no way anyone could step aside from the emotions arising. 
Your dance broke my heart right open.
My internal jaded cynic fled upon seeing the light.

I am sad that so many will have a hard time adjusting to you
appearing only in memory now.
And yet I am so profoundly grateful for what it has produced.
In this world, sinking, shaking, pussing,  warring -  
 your decision led to wave upon wave of love
and clarity of spirit.
Strong light in the darkness.

And returning home something remarkable happened.  
 As the plane taxied to the runway I was awaiting the clenched and sweaty fists, the tightened solar plexus, and the rapid heartbeat.  The holding of breath.
That deep fear. 
It was absent.  Even upon  turbulence and landing 
fear was absent.

No resistance either. 
Coming home the schism I had created with my partner was no longer there. 
Choice was for love, not for distance. 
Love flows effortlessly when the heart opens.   
Love and water,
so alike.
Love I have discovered eliminates fear. 
I don’t know why but I got a taste of how.

Seeing the grace and wisdom with which this family 
has met your death has inspired.
Seeing your family meet this vast challenge, was a new hundred monkey scene. 
A new way of perceiving for many. 
To allow that deepest sorrow and in turn meet an inner peace. 
Probably the greatest challenge given to a human.
  Between the waves of loss and regret. 
To respect your decision and just continue to feel the love of this being
in his eternal presence.

Many years ago Sarie lit a candle upon hearing of her father’s murder.
She had two flowers in a vase.  I asked her about them
because they were two small roses that had the energy of a huge tree.
  She told me that one was for her father and one for his killer.                
In that moment this whole perception of punishment and revenge 
versus profound acceptance struck me as my most powerful life event.

And the acceptance of those close to you and its effect
that has unfolded with your unorthodox journey
is my most profound blessing to date.  
 Thank you John Peter.  Angel Boy.

Grief belongs to no-one.
like water it flows
and reaches the greatest depths
touching all in its path
with a clarity
a penetration
a merging

weaving its way
from the realm of thinking
to the feeling of heart
where it massages, pumps , pounds, squeezes
one to the previously unimaginable depths and peace
of one’s inner being.
and the way is made possible
by the ocean  of tears that free flow
with the infinite drums of sobbing
always waiting quietly in the background to escape
it is through the falling of tears
that the other shore becomes reality.

It became apparent by the last thing found of yours – a list – 
that you wanted to go into the wild and survive.  
 You wanted to hunt and grow and live off the thriving land,
leave the hallowed city – and when you saw that to get to the land
would be more than you could do, you chose the next route – 
away from this clumsy, heavy lifestyle that we are all wrapped up in.

From the beautiful falling rain and embrace of your home, 
I return to the kingdom of sunlight.
Sitting in it in the garden watching the mousebirds 
have what sounds like a parents teachers meeting (as I would imagine one to be),  
 the chickens chickening,  
 the light filtering through the banana leaves,
the occasional ant landing on my arm, 
the wasp stinging and dragging the rain spider to her lair.
And in the midst of this – you are present.
With much gratitude.

Respect John Peter, Respect.

And as within, as without.
This healing cannot have been isolated to this pocket of people in this African land.
It is part of a growing meme – where disaster can lead to rebirth.
Where despair can carry light and hope.
And where all the bullshit is left at the top of the drive.


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The whole secret of existence is to have no fear. Buddha