Vegetarian Lobster !!!

From Dance to Freedom

In a conversation with friends at the end of 2010 I realised my word for 2011 was DANCE. For me this represented so many qualities including  a deeper exploration of a somatic sense of knowing, finding and being in the flow, as well as moving in union with the energetic entities I meet along the way be they human or other than human. So often the movement I would make to describe this experience is the sign of the caduceus or the double helix. Caduceus is associated with Hermes in Greek mythology and Mercury in Roman mythology, both of whom are notable tricksters. The trickster is a figure in stories that often acts as the hinge or the pivotal point. They are much needed characters that offer moments of transformation and change necessary for a story to move forward. Interesting that this waving movement symbolised my meaning of dance. As I sit here dwelling on what has happened during this year I can say that many beautiful dances were co-created and there is always a dance to be found. Somehow the trickster knows when a situation or person becomes stuck they need some assistance to reconnect to the dance of life and flow again. I wonder, who were the tricksters in my life this year? I can think of one or two already !!! My inner desire remains one of observer more than participant. But hey, at last now and again I also get up and dance.

On my walks this week I have been asking myself what is the word that is emerging for 2012. And for now the word that resonates most is FREEDOM. I am not sensing a movement, sound or image to express my meaning for freedom just yet;,however, today FREEDOM FEELS GOOD. And while reading a book last night about a story called The Maiden Tsar, I came across these words by Marion Woodman:

"In life, we can be so over-whelmed by what is happening that ... we do not know whether we are driven by compulsion or by our own free will. To be asked the question in the midst of our apparently irrational behaviour, is an invitation to look at our behaviour as a way of finding within it what had remained hidden ... The drive that remains hidden is compulsion; the drive that is revealed is freedom. In the question [I am/you are] being invited to enter into [our] own authentic life. The authentic life is the transformation of compulsion into freedom without the loss of the energy contained in the compulsion."*

My interpretation of this is that for us not to be under the influence of our unconscious we need to wake up to our feelings of emptiness, lack of worth and disconnection from our bodies. By finding our loving connection to the inner positive mother, to the Great Mother, Pachamama - we can trust life and not fear life. And we no longer seek this yearning for security through external opulence, greed and possessions.  Instead we experience wholeness, balance and love. What marion Woodman calls the inner marriage of the masculine and the feminine. In so doing we find our freedom, we can let go of our fears and our actions and behaviours will be transformed and informed by a loving compassion that has always been there, that has always be part of us, it was simply hidden until we uncovered it and awakened to its presence. And it follows, what changes on the inside also changes on the outside - as within, so without.

Let it be ... FREEDOM it is for 2012.


* Bly, R. and Woodman, M. (1998) The Maiden King: The Reunion of Masculine and Feminine, Henry Holt, New York. (p.132)

You Were Made For This

My friends, do not lose heart. We were made for these times. I have heard from so many recently who are deeply and properly bewildered. They are concerned about the state of affairs in our world now. Ours is a time of almost daily astonishment and often righteous rage over the latest degradations of what matters most to civilized, visionary people. You are right in your assessments. The lustre and hubris some have aspired to while endorsing acts so heinous against children, elders, everyday people, the poor, the unguarded, the helpless, is breathtaking. 

Yet, I urge you, ask you, gentle you, to please not spend your spirit dry by bewailing these difficult times. Especially do not lose hope. Most particularly because, the fact is that we were made for these times. Yes. For years, we have been learning, practicing, been in training for and just waiting to meet on this exact plain of engagement. I grew up on the Great Lakes and recognize a seaworthy vessel when I see one. Regarding awakened souls, there have never been more able vessels in the waters than there are right now across the world. And they are fully provisioned and able to signal one another as never before in the history of humankind. 

Look out over the prow; there are millions of boats of righteous souls on the waters with you. Even though your veneers may shiver from every wave in this stormy roil, I assure you that the long timbers composing your prow and rudder come from a greater forest. That long-grained lumber is known to withstand storms, to hold together, to hold its own, and to advance, regardless. In any dark time, there is a tendency to veer toward fainting over how much is wrong or unmended in the world. Do not focus on that. There is a tendency, too, to fall into being weakened by dwelling on what is outside your reach, by what cannot yet be. Do not focus there. That is spending the wind without raising the sails. 

We are needed, that is all we can know. And though we meet resistance, we more so will meet great souls who will hail us, love us and guide us, and we will know them when they appear. Didn't you say you were a believer? Didn't you say you pledged to listen to a voice greater? Didn't you ask for grace? Don't you remember that to be in grace means to submit to the voice greater? Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world all at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach. Any small, calm thing that one soul can do to help another soul, to assist some portion of this poor suffering world, will help immensely. It is not given to us to know which acts or by whom, will cause the critical mass to tip toward an enduring good. What is needed for dramatic change is an accumulation of acts, adding, adding to, adding more, continuing. 

We know that it does not take everyone on Earth to bring justice and peace, but only a small, determined group who will not give up during the first, second, or hundredth gale. One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times. The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires, causes proper matters to catch fire. To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these – to be fierce and to show mercy toward others; both are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity. 

Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it. If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do. There will always be times when you feel discouraged. I too have felt despair many times in my life, but I do not keep a chair for it. I will not entertain it. It is not allowed to eat from my plate. The reason is this: In my uttermost bones I know something, as do you. It is that there can be no despair when you remember why you came to Earth, who you serve, and who sent you here. The good words we say and the good deeds we do are not ours. They are the words and deeds of the One who brought us here. In that spirit, I hope you will write this on your wall: When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But that is not what great ships are built for. 

By Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D Author of the best seller Women Who Run with the Wolves

Celebrating the solstice be it winter or summer ... may you have a good day!

The solstice is arriving, the eight days of Hannukah are beginning, and Christmas Day is approaching. Something universal in the human spirit is rising at this time to celebrate the light that defiantly, brightly shines--even now, in what is in the Northern Hemisphere the darkest time of the year. While the lights sparkle and rich aromas and melodies rise up, the cold bites and the body yearns to hibernate.    

It can be one of the most wonderful, and, paradoxically, one of the most difficult times of the whole year. We are made to notice light and fullness, but also darkness and emptiness; we are reminded of our connectedness, but also of our aloneness. 

Every person we love (including every person, alive now or not, who we have ever loved) awakens our recognition of the Universal Beloved, That which is the essence of all that is lovable and loving, the One from whom we can never be separated. 

Giving gifts is a way to remind ourselves of love, to enact our gratitude, to express the spirit of generosity that is our only sanity. 

And yet so is being quiet and still, and noticing the fullness that is always already present. 

And so, of course, life requires us to choose again. To find our heart's "yes" to both light and darkness. To find a way to walk with love in this still only half-made world, this place where love is yet to fully take its hold. 

May your heart find a way to practice this holiday season. May you find a way to notice the light in the darkness in every single body, to notice the non-separation that lets you reach across the gaps that face you!

- These words are attributed to Terry Patton - Beyond Awakenings - although I was unable to find the link on google. They are not my words, nevertheless, I whole heartedly agree with the sentiment. - 

Do not turn away from suffering ...

Back in October I posted the words, "History is not an army. It's more like a crab scuttling sideways. And we need to be brave enough to hope change is possible in order to have a chance of making it happen." And I think of them again today and the reason is this ...

This photograph is of a female protester being attacked by Egyptian soldiers in Tahrir Square, Cairo over the weekend. It's brutal. It's shocking. It's inhumane. For me it brings up strong emotions and raises so many questions that I have no answers for ... most importantly it needs to be seen and witnessed. I want to look away, to make it stop, but that would be to turn away from the suffering and I can't do that. The suffering of the oppressed is everywhere to see in the world right now. As I enter Christmas week and I'm reminded this is the time of year to offer goodwill to all, I ask how can I offer goodwill to the soldiers in this picture? And I return to the words above and the message from Rebecca Solnit ... it is still braver to hope for a better world and be part of the changes towards that, than to descend into despair and cynicism. Change is possible and for the woman in this picture I can only assume she put her life on the line for that change, for that freedom and for that love. Inshallah I pray she is still alive and being cared for as I write these words. And I send my hope to the hearts of all those in Egypt as they make their transition. May it be as peaceful as possible.

Life is an ocean of motion

"If we are always arriving and departing,

it is also true that we are eternally anchored.

One's destinations is never a place, but

rather a new way of looking at things."

- Henry Miller -

My Monday Morning Feeling

Two More Five Minute Poems

I

To surrender unbiddenly
falling into the darkening
mystery unknowing of
my direction
wondering if I spread my
wings will I be able to
fly this time
Or will a mix of feather
and sinew befuddle the
betwixness of my fall
And yet directionless may
be someone else's judgement
of my stepping off
To me it appears the only
way to go.

II

I want to be a tree
a one legged ancestor
home to creepy-crawlies
and vestige to feathered friends
a place where squirrels
acrobatically balance on
my farthest outstretched limbs.

I want to feel each season
pass by me, the sap rising
up in spring as my verdant
coat enfolds me for another
year, where the suns rays
warm my wrinkled and
cracked skin.

I want to hear the cries
of the wind rushing through
me like a ghost on a mission
as I stand here in one
place, my only place
for an eternity.

Nature = Beauty

reflections ...

... it's the people stuff again. It pretty much always comes down to the people stuff, maybe because we are people!!! What is the story we are telling and how do we put ourselves into that story? And what are the new stories being told?

... it's the heart stuff again. Of late it oftens comes down to the heart stuff, maybe because that is what has been missing !!! How do we keep our hearts open amidst so much fear, violence and suffering?

... it's the bridging of many worlds again. The strength in diversity brings with it the challenge of integrating everything into a whole. How do we bridge what appear like contradictory worlds?

... it's back to seeing the invisible and acknowledging the mystery in our ever changing lives, in these increasingly uncertain times we live in. As someone told me yesterday, enlightment is like water to a fish. All anyone needs do is open there eyes. It's all around, ever present ... we only need feel it, to see it, to be it.

Occupy Love ...

... the revolution is love - oh yes !!!

Urban Green Places ... aka Trees that touch the sky

... nevermind parks and gardens, check out this 27 storey building being planned for Milan by Italian architect Stefano Boeri.

Bosco Verticale, as it is known, is an example of architectures attempts to green our urban landscapes. Writing in the Daily Telegraph (UK) Christopher Woodward  (Director of the Garden Museum), observed, while "Researching our current exhibition From Garden City to Green City we were inspired by projects in Paris, Valencia and Sao Paolo in which architects have created a new generation of buildings in which architecture fuses with nature, such as Stefano Boeri’s Bosco Verticale project currently under construction in Milan: two 20-storey-plus blocks in which each apartment has a garden big enough for a tree cantilevered out into the sky. It is a glimpse of how London could be, with a dash of political will. We have a new generation of architects whose ambition is to make living communities, not to erect air-conditioned icons in glass. The public demand is there..."

If cities are a part of our futures ... let's make green places happen !!!

The Self-Attribution Fallacy

Intelligence? Talent? No, the ultra-rich got to where they are through luck and brutality. Click on the link below to reading a chilling indictment of the psychological qualities of the wealthy and high achieving business/financial executives. George Monbiot writing in The Guardian newspaper (UK) suggests that not all successful business executives are psychopaths, however, the economy has been rewarding the wrong skills. The openning paragraph begins:
"If wealth was the inevitable result of hard work and enterprise, every woman in Africa would be a millionaire. The claims that the ultra-rich 1% make for themselves – that they are possessed of unique intelligence or creativity or drive – are examples of the self-attribution fallacy. This means crediting yourself with outcomes for which you weren’t responsible. Many of those who are rich today got there because they were able to capture certain jobs. This capture owes less to talent and intelligence than to a combination of the ruthless exploitation of others and accidents of birth, as such jobs are taken disproportionately by people born in certain places and into certain classes."

Click here to read more  ... The Self-Attribution Fallacy

I am the 100%

I like what this guy says a lot, very much, too infinity ... and beyond.

Nature ... Murmuration ... Magnificent ...

Murmuration from Sophie Windsor Clive on Vimeo.

Every autumn thousands of starlings dance in the twilight. No one really knows why they do it. Sophie Windsor Clive and Liberty Smith, came across this spectacle by chance while canoeing on Lough Derg, the last of the three largest lakes on the River Shannon in Ireland. A living swirling cloud of starlings. The birds gather in magical shape-shifting flocks called murmurations, having migrated in the millions from Russia and Scandinavia to escape winter’s bite. Murmurations are also seen in the UK including Gretna, Scotland and Brighton, England. Scientists aren’t sure how they do it, either. Even complex algorithmic models haven’t yet explained the starlings’ acrobatics, which rely on the tiny bird’s quicksilver reaction time of under 100 milliseconds to avoid aerial collisions—and predators—in the giant flock.

Impenetrable as the flock’s movements might seem to the human eye, Daniel Butler writing in the Daily Telegraph http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/wildlife/4736472/The-mathematics-of-murmurating-starlings.html suggests the underlying maths is comparatively straightforward. "Each bird strives to fly as close to its neighbours as possible, instantly copying any changes in speed or direction. As a result, tiny deviations by one bird are magnified and distorted by those surrounding it, creating rippling, swirling patterns. In other words, this is a classic case of mathematical chaos (larger shapes composed of infinitely varied smaller patterns). Whatever the science, however, it is difficult for the observer to think of it as anything other than some vast living entity."

An A-Maz-Ing S-eye-T :)

There are no such things as weeds ...

Some images from occupy the streets

 

The love movement :)

Birthday Poem for Luis

SONETO LXIX

Tal vez no ser es ser sin que tú seas,
sin que vayas cortando el mediodía
como una flor azul, sin que camines
más tarde por la niebla y los ladrillos,

sin esa luz que llevas en la mano
que tal vez otros no verán dorada,
que tal vez nadie supo que crecía
como el origen rojo de la rosa,

sin que seas, en fin, sin que vinieras
brusca, incitante, a conocer mi vida,
ráfaga de rosal, trigo del viento,

y desde entonces soy porque tú eres,
y desde entonces eres, soy y somos,
y por amor seré, serás, seremos.

  - Pablo Neruda -

 

Perhaps not to be is to be without your being,
without your going, that cuts noon light
like a blue flower, without your passing
later through fog and stones,
without the torch you lift in your hand
that others may not see as golden,
that perhaps no one believed blossomed
the glowing origin of the rose,
without, in the end, your being, your coming
suddenly, inspiringly, to know my life,
blaze of the rose-tree, wheat of the breeze:
and it follows that I am, because you are:
it follows from ‘you are’, that I am, and we:
and, because of love, you will, I will,
We will, come to be. 

Who knew bamboo was the future?

... not me, but after watching this I am now a total convert!



and if you want to see how beautiful a house made from bamboo is, check this out ...

Rebecca Solnit on Hope

Despair is a black leather jacket in which everyone looks good, while hope is a frilly pink dress few dare to wear. Rebecca Solnit thinks this virtue needs to be redefined.

Join Rebecca to explore why disaster makes us behave better and why it's braver to hope than to hide behind despair's confidence and cynicism's safety.

Solnit takes to the pulpit in the video below to deliver a sermon that looks at the remarkable social changes of the past half century, the stories the mainstream media neglects and the big surprises that keep on landing.

History is not an army. It's more like a crab scuttling sideways. And we need to be brave enough to hope change is possible in order to have a chance of making it happen.


Rebecca Solnit on Hope from The School of Life on Vimeo.

http://www.theschooloflife.com/Sermons/Rebecca-Solnit-on-Hope 

"To hope is to gamble. It’s to bet on the future, on your desires, on the possibility that an open heart and uncertainty is better than gloom and safety. To hope is dangerous, and yet it is the opposite of fear, for to live is to risk.

I say all this because hope is not like a lottery ticket you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky. I say it because hope is an axe you break down doors with in an emergency; because hope should shove you out the door, because it will take everything you have to steer the future away from endless war, from the annihilation of the earth’s treasures and the grinding down of the poor and marginal. Hope just means another world might be possible, not promised, not guaranteed. Hope calls for action; action is impossible without hope.

At the beginning of his massive 1930s treatise on hope, the German philosopher Ernst Bloch wrote, “The work of this emotion requires people to throw themselves actively into becoming, to which they themselves belong”. To hope is to give yourself to the future, and that commitment to the future makes the present inhabitable. Anything could happen, and whether we act or not has everything to do with it.”

Rebecca Solnit, Hope in the dark: the untold history of people power, Canongate Books (Edinburgh) 2005, p. 5

Thanks to Ruth Potts for the quotes and the link.

Occupy the Streets - London, UK.

This is the initial statement from Occupy London:

At today’s assembly of over 500 people on the steps of St Paul’s, occupylsx collectively agreed the initial statement below. Please note, like all forms of direct democracy, the statement will always be a work in progress.

1. The current system is unsustainable. It is undemocratic and unjust. We need alternatives; this is where we work towards them.
2. We are of all ethnicities, backgrounds, genders, generations, sexualities dis/abilities and faiths. We stand together with occupations all over the world.
3. We refuse to pay for the banks’ crisis.
4. We do not accept the cuts as either necessary or inevitable. We demand an end to global tax injustice and our democracy representing corporations instead of the people.
5. We want regulators to be genuinely independent of the industries they regulate.
6. We support the strike on the 30th November and the student action on the 9th November, and actions to defend our health services, welfare, education and employment, and to stop wars and arms dealing.
7. We want structural change towards authentic global equality. The world’s resources must go towards caring for people and the planet, not the military, corporate profits or the rich.
8. We stand in solidarity with the global oppressed and we call for an end to the actions of our government and others in causing this oppression.
9. This is what democracy looks like. Come and join us!

http://occupylondon.org.uk/

 

An autumnal walk around the Dartington Estate in pictures ...

Myth Weekend Poem and Pictures

Leaving the village, entering the forest. In myth there is normally three parts to a story; severance, threshold and return. Severance refers to some great change event, such as, losing your job, the end of a relationship, the birth of a child. It is the point in your life when you sever attachments to your old life and you move out of your comfort zone. This is known as leaving the village. You depart from the familiar and enter liminal space the metaphoric forest of transition, learning and change.

This weekend was the first gathering of five in the year programme of the West Country School of Myth and Story (http://www.schoolofmyth.com/courses.html). The purpose of which is to explore the mythic world through story. Being the first gathering it is the point at which we all crossed the threshold leaving our home comforts behind and stepped into the forest of the unknown to delve into the mystery and to listen to what the ancient ones, the elementals, the ancestors have to tell us.

On the Saturday afternoon after listening to the initiatory story of Faithful Johan we were invited to wander the forest and moorland to write our 'I am ...' poem and in so doing to discover our own mythic ground, our innate birthright, our connections to nature and ultimately to claim our ground.

Before I felt the urge to write I followed my instincts to a new part of the woods, a corridor of old beech trees lay off in the distance and I headed towards them. As I came closer I was drawn to a huge boulder. From there I felt eyes upon me and I looked up to see three deer watching me from a far.

I began following the deer trying my best to keep on their trail. It was not easy as they moved fast and the colouring of each deer helped them to easily blend into the background. I eventually saw the originally 3 deer catch up with their herd and in single file they leaped after one another down into the lower woods. See how many of the deer you can see in the picture below?

Before you say none, I can assure you there are at least two deer in this photo, granted at a distance but they are there, moving fast and camouflaged. At this point I decided to stop tracking the deer. They were far to canny and my movement only served to chase them further and further away. Instead I followed the beech trees until I came out on to the moor. A huge panoramic vista opened up before me and for a while I did not know which way to turn. Do I go up high on to the moor or do I follow the path down into the valley and along mariners way back to Heathercombe? In the end I decided to sit down and enjoy the view. And it was whilst sat on the ground looking around me that the words came for my 'I am' poem.

I am

I am an underground cavern
unknown and unseen by anything
except for the passing rain water
permeating from above.

I am a golden daffodil rising
from the ground to trumpet
the spring.

I am a granite stone sitting in
a drystone wall marking the
boundary of a farmers field.

I am a burnt orange autumnal
oak leaf floating down from
tree to ground.

I am the deep throaty moo
of a Frisian cow waiting to
be walked to the milking yard.

I am a deer standing as still
as a Rodin sculpture watching all
in the valley below.

I am the edge of the horizon lost
in a hazy embrace with the sky above.

The Nineties

This week I have had the privilege to have been in the company of two women in their nineties. A very memorable and special experience. When someone reaches the heady heights of 90+ they have my attention.

Grace is as bright as a button. I'd just arrived into a group of 40 or so people most of whom, including Grace, I had not met before. Being somewhat shy I'd grab my cup of tea and sat down in the corner of the lounge near a book shelf. As I was flicking through the pages of a book Grace confidently walked across the room with a big welcoming smile and sat down in the chair beside me immediately striking up a conversation. Within minutes she was telling me a story about when she was a nurse before the war and she would hitch-hike up to the Lake District from London. It would take her two whole days. And then she'd spend a few days walking the fells, some of which we could see through the window of Glenthorn House in Grasmere, before heading back down to London. Grace smiles at me and says I'm 90 you know. She must have seen the surprised look on my face. I would have never have guessed that this spritely diminuitive powerhouse was in her nineties, 75 maybe, but not 90. Grace looked down at the book in my hand. Noticing the name of the author Bede Griffiths she segued into another story of the time she spent in California studying with Matthew Fox. After many months of study she had become accustomed to the American intonation, one evening the guest lecturer stood up and to her amazement spoke in a cut-glass Oxford accent. When she enquired who was speaking it turned out to be none other than Bede Giffiths. In a few short minutes I felt like I'd gotten to know this incredible woman. Grace was such an open free spirit full of life. After our conversation, I saw a book of poems by Grace for sale on the Greenspirit bookstand. Was there no end to Grace's talents? Probably not ...

Phyllis is a vision of loveliness. Earlier in the day she had visited the hairdresser, a weekly appointment she kept along with other regular activities that formed part of her routine in the nursing home. When we arrived she was not in her chair in the lounge or in her bedroom. We sat waiting in the conservatory until one of the care assistants wheeled Phyllis in to meet us. Hello, she said with a beaming smile and a knowing look. The care assistant is telling Phyllis her daughter is here to visit. Where is she? Phyllis asks. I tell her, she'd just popped out the room and that she'd be back in a minute. Nan, I am Fiona your granddaughter. Her face lights up and she puts her hands up to her cheeks with excitement. You look so different. I remember you when you were a baby. I loved you. I love you now. My Nan points out the window, Granny Capron lives just down there on Waterloo Road. My Granny and Grandad live at the school, they clean it. Phyllis is talking to me as if her grandparents are still alive. In her mind she is in her childhood walking the streets of Burry Port in South Wales, looking after her youngest sisters Kathy and Margaret. Then she looks up, I'm in my nineties you know. Yes I say, your ninety three. I don't feel ninety. From when I was a little girl my Nan has always told me she feels 25. In her eighties she would say, Fiona my body aches I'm getting old but in my head I still feel like 25, it's just when I tell my body to do things it doesn't want to do them anymore.

Reflections on Cambui, Campinas, SP, Brasil

We stayed in a wonderful Pousada in the district of Cambui, home from 15 August to 19 September and a very comfortable friendly place to be while in Brasil. I had many a conversation with Angelica, her mum and Ju ... they spoke excellent Portuguese and I did my very best to understand. I can honestly say we never failed to communicate somehow. I was very sad to leave, unfortunately living in a hotel is not a long term option no matter how comfortable and familiar it had become. Cambui is in the city of Campinas. Downtown was as busy and intense as any big city, with the exception of Sao Paolo, which was off the scale in size and INTENSITY. Standing on Avenida Paulista in Sao Paolo made Cambui feel like a country village of subtle quaintness.

When it rained the streets became like streams and if the rain was heavy it did not take long for some roads to flood, the torrents of water had no where else to go. Driving around one Saturday afternoon as the heavens opened proved a very entertaining experience! When a storm arrived the thunder and lightening would go on for what seemed like hours, the weather hanging over the city bringing grey clouds and dropping the temperatures. This would usually last a day at most and then back came the blue skies and the sunshine. Even in the winter months temperature could regularly reach the low to mid 30's. I have no idea how people function in the summer heat! I have two words for you 'air conditioning' ...

Brasil is riding an economic wave. A construction boom was evident everywhere I turned. Lowrise individual single storey homes were being bought up, knocked down and replaced by large high-rise appartments. One day you'd walk along a street and the next a house could be bulldozed in anticipation of future verticle developements. All in the name of progress the skyline of the city was being altered in front of our eyes.

Homes like this ...

And this ...

Are being replaced with this ...

Great views I'm sure, but do we all want to live that high in the clouds?

I adore a touch of natural greenery amongst the concrete, bricks and mortar. A highlight of any city are the sightings of plants, trees and parks. All of which can be found without too much searching. The streets are lined with trees. Many of which were rich in vibrant and verdant flowers displaying their spring plumage. If not flowering they were growing tropical fruits. I saw bananas, mangos and papayas that you could pick as you walked by. Some homeowners made efforts to bring life to their front yards, which added extra colour.

You can't go to Brasil without sampling the delicious food (especially tropical fruits, rice and beans!) and experiencing the sights and sounds of wonderful musicians. And it's a given that the people who are responsible for such delights are warm, welcoming and friendly. In the UK we have pasty's and in Brasil there is pastel. One is baked, the other is fried. To me they are pretty much the same thing and very tasty. Although the waistline needs some elastication if you know what I mean. You can't go wrong with rice and beans, add some salad and fried fish and you have a perfect meal. For those who like Japanese food, Brasil is the country for you. There is an abundance of sushi, tamaki, sashimi, tempura and nigri. And after all that everywhere you look in the grocers and markets there is display upon display of the most awesome tropical fruits and vegetables. I tried so many varieties of natural fruit juices I lost count. My favourite being melancia (watermelon). Most days breakfast consisted of fresh papaya. And the varieties of bananas was a total education for me!

If it makes a noise it is a potential musical instrument ... well it is if you are Brasilian and if you have a love for rhythmn there is no better place to be. I was lucky enough to see a concert by Tambeiro. A group of students from Unicamp who played a range of percussion instruments and drums including the pandeiro and the traditional berimbau - awesome! They could invoke the sound of the ocean or the rain forest and if you closed your eyes it felt like you had been transported out of the theatre somewhere else - incredible. I had heard nothing like it before and will remember that evening forever. At the performance began the musicians and dancer entered from the back of the auditorium walking down the ailses onto the stage. At the end they left the same way finishing outside drawing the audience with them playing for all to hear.

I fell in love with this beautiful place and the warm and welcoming people. It is full of contrasts and extremes. Nowhere is perfect, however, it is definitely a rollercoaster of experiences, well worth the ride.

The uncertainty of the poet

In April 1985 the Tate Gallery, London, announced that it had paid £1 million for a Giorgio de Chirico masterpiece, 'The Uncertainty of the Poet'.

I am a poet.
I am very fond of bananas.

I am bananas.
I am very fond of a poet.

I am a poet of bananas.
I am very fond.

A fond poet of 'I am, I am' -
Very bananas,

Fond of 'Am I bananas,
Am I?' - a very poet.

Bananas of a poet!
Am I fond?' Am I very?

Poet bananas! I am.
I am fond of a 'very'.

I am of very fond bananas.
Am I a poet?

- Wendy Cope -

published in Serious Concerns, 1992, faber and faber, p.33

weekend tunes 'I like'

Truth and Beauty

Mata Atlantica

This week we have been to the Mata Atlantic coast of Sao Paulo State. We explored two places; the small historic town of Paraty and a tiny village called Trindade a little further a long the coast which is a magnet for surfers. As we drove down the highway Sunday afternoon the weather had turned more typically wintery, temperatures dropped from the 30 degree highs of the week and the grey clouds above us occassionally depositied rain. The most dramatic part of the journey was the descent from the coastal mountains down to the sea. The narrow windy steep road would put any Italian Alps incline to shame. Suffice to say we made it down in one piece without connecting with any on-coming buses !!!

We arrived in Paraty just as the weekend Cachasa festival was coming to an end. Remnants of the party were everywhere to see as were a few of the people still in celebratory mode. Paraty is also experiencing a boom in construction. Our Pousada was build so recently the street was not even on our GPS. This caused some circling of local roads and asking of directions from many people before we finally located our destination. Settled in we ventured out to find refreshments. Paraty did not fail. We were enticed into a local restaurant by an eager host and the sounds of live music.




And there we stayed for the rest of the night being serendaded by fine musicians singing a range of Brazilian songs to which Mirella seemed to know most of the lyrics. The food was abundant and delicious as usual and I was encouraged to try the traditional drink of cachasa, which let me tell you tastes like a margarita. Not wanting to get too drunk on my first evening I took to taking delicate small sips.


Paraty has a beautiful historical centre made up of small narrow cobbled streets many of them flood when the weather becomes much more inclement. At which point the transport changes for horse and cart to canoes and boats.


Tourism seemed the main focus. There are many shops selling souvenirs and local products. It is also a mecca for artists. We visited the gallery of Patricia Sada http://www.patriciasada.com.br/atelier.asp and has luck would have it she was there. There were many colourful boats in the harbour available for trips to the islands and tours to see tropical fish in their natural environment.


For me the highlight was being in such a different environment. The tropical forest that hugs the coastline was once bigger than the Amazon and populated by many plants and creatures, including jaguar and tapirs. At night-time the sounds fom the cicadas and others animals and birds created quite a cacophony, especially for someone more used to the ocassional twit-twoos of an owl. On the third night we move to an even smaller village, called Trindade, what you might call a one horse town. Sleeping so close to the ocean the evening chorus had the additional percussion from the crashing waves on to the nearby beach.


On our final day we awoke to a beautiful sun shiny day and decided to take a stroll along the beach to find a natural pool where you can see the fish swimming. It was quite a trek along beaches, over rocky outcrops and throught the forest. There were many flowers blooming, including brightly coloured red birds of paradise and orchids. Having passed over the golden sands we finally reached our destination. A couple of local fishermen were tending to their boat as we walked down the last few steps their friendly dog skipped over the rocks to greet us.


There was time to take a quick dip in the pool. Unfortunately the weather had been very stormy and the waves were disturbing the water making it impossible to see the fish. The swim was very refreshing after the long walk, just what I needed to cool off, however breakfast was calling, after a few minutes enjoying the sea and the views we set-off back to Trindade.

On our drive home to Campinas we stopped off at an organic farm for something to eat. Santa Barbara can be found on the Dos Tamois Road near Jambeiro. It is a tranquil oasis that appears seamingly from nowhere. The theme is Austro-German, although the name lends itself more to California. Whilst eating a delicious meal overlooking a lake populated with ducks and geese we watched many small birds swooping before us from the trees to the bushes. Amongst them were two species of hummingbird. One had dark black and turquoise feathers and the other was caramel and yellow in colouring. After many attempts to capture the swift hummingbirds hovering in front of us I managed to get this picture.