The believe tree

After a rollercoaster of a couple of weeks with lots of learning edges traversed and no doubt many more still to come I am now in an old stomping ground to find some completion and closure to this part of my life. Up on the moor there is a special Alder tree that has seen me through some tough times. Trees are beautiful creatures full of wisdom and comfort. Just like the one in the picture above. I'm off to get me some tree time :)

Old Man and Young Women

I came across this photograph today and have been pulled into its aura. The faces of the old man and young women, their clothes, especially the shoes, then the background and the little boy capture me in endless fascination. There appears to me so many stories that spring out from the image.

The photographer is Hugo Jaeger. Early in 1940, Hugo took this photograph during a visit to the Kutno ghetto in Poland. What is more surprising is Hugo was the personal photographer for Adolf Hitler. He more typically recorded the triumphalism of the Third Reich rather than the shadow.

This and other images he made of the plight of Jews during the 1940's are incredibly striking and a significant reminder of the atrocities that took place in Europe in the middle of the twentieth century. After a period of economic depression and great austerity the countries of Europe went to war. Fast forward to the present day and we are in the midst of similar circumstances. Europe is on the cusp of a right wing fascist revival.

The question sitting with me is how we can step outside of this cycle of events and take a different path and learn from our history. A path that seeks to build on what joins us whilst celebrating difference. A path that seeks to innovate our way of life to a more holistic perspective.

Words of Wisdom

This liminal space that Eckhart is referring to is quite familiar. It's a betwixt and between place I have often written about on this blog. Trying to articulate my experiences of how it feels me. It can get very uncomfortable and disconcerting. It's been described by some as like being on a bridge or lost in the woods or adrift on the sea. A bridge that it is not possible to simply get off. On one side there is nothing attractive for you and the other is not yet available.

The bridge/sea/woods that reconnects the fragmented self to wholeness, to oneness, is contemplation. And yet as we step on that bridge, the path often disappears beneath our feet. Uncertainty and not knowing fall like veils across our eyes. The mystery deepens to the far horizon. Our vision takes on different forms and images that we can not easily decipher. 

In this moment, in this space, we make our departure into a presence that can only be experienced and participated in rather than reasoned, controlled, planned for and conceptualised. This is where our creative spark can leap forth and guide us. This is a place of death and dying as well as renewal and rebirth. The ego has to be transcended. Our awakened selves has to discovered. Borrowing a line from Rumi, contemplation, offers us a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the ground we are upon.

I am learning not to try and push or fight my way out of this circumstance I find myself. Nor to zoom up into my head and analyse. Rather I have to place myself in a contemplative stance. To be patient and learn to wait. Wait until the moment to move is presented or invited.  As much as I wish it, I am after all not in control of this one.

Getting into a contemplative stance is not passive. For me it means making an active choice to explore an embodied world.

To be out in nature, 

take a walk in the woods, 

canoe down the river, 

write a poem, 

bang a drum, 

feel the sun on my face,

hug a friend,

paint a picture, 

move and stretch my body, 

pick apples, 

plant seeds, 

cook a meal, 

kiss my partner, 

gaze up at the moon,

lit a fire

make pancakes,

meditate,

it's a list I keep

searching for ways 

to

add to!

Signs of Brilliance

This is a poster used during the occupy movement in Boston in 2011.

Just fantastic.

I love the sentiment.

Some Poems Written on Train Journeys

To my love

I'm on a train to Waterloo

Dreaming 'bout all the fun

Things we shall do.

Museums and tearooms,

Wasabi's and beer,

Followed by music,

Whatever you want,

My Dear.

It's our day to play

In big London Town.

All the hours are ours

Until the sun goes down.

Nobody

I say no to my body

No to my feelings

The emotions rising within

And what happens

Is the FEAR seeps in.

It taps on my shoulders

Then whispers into my ears

'Who do you think you are,

messing around here,

You're a Nobody!'

I'm a Nobody?

'You'll not amount to anything'

I'm a Nobody!

My disengaged body

Visibly shrinks within

Getting tighter and tighter

Smaller and smaller

The density so heavy I'm unable

To let anyone or anything near

         Contraction

                  Retraction

My eyes to the ground

Clouds loom above me

Impending doom all around.

My shoulders carrying the

Heavy weight of it all

    Heavy

       Heavier

         Even heavier until ...

Up pops a Robin hopping

on the wall.

His red breast plumped up.

He's ever so small tall.

My fingers slowly begin

To release and unfurl.

As the open field

Beyond the Beech Tree

    Beckons me

        To come in.

Each footstep brings a

Deeper breath, inner then

In to the field I go

Looking skyward

A blue expanse abounds

  Up

     Up

       Above

As far as I can see.

The trees sway in unison

As the breeze glances by.

Far distant cries from the 

Milking cows travel as they

Wait their turn in

The Parlour.

    And expanse,

       And openness

Return me to space

Nature's welcoming embrace

The pendulum has swung 

Once again full circle

From despair to hope

And yet, wait,

Will it now go back again?

As certain as night

Follows day!

The cycle will go round

And round again.

Each time I get Triggered ...

    BANG 

And off I go again

But this time

I stay

I don't look away

This time
I look into its eye

FEAR

I'm walking toward you.

To ME!

What do I see?

   Humanity

     My loneliness

My sensitivity and vulnerability

   My POWER, my strength,

my judgement ...

It's all there to be seen.

No hiding place here.

The full spectrum of qualities.

Like an energy filled rainbow.

Spreading its message of colour.

The hot Red of anger and passion

The verdant Green of jealousy and fecundity

The golden Yellow of cowardice and joy

The azure Blue for sorrow and love.

 

It's about the all and everything

Not one thing or no thing

OR Nobody.

You're not Nobody.

I'm not Nobody.

We're integral wholes

Circling

   Circling

     Circling
Inseperably embracing the ALL!

Career advice

 George Monbiot was considered to be a bit of an eco pin-up, if there is such a thing, by the younger women in the university department where I used to work. There was many a moment of swooning when he came to speak at an event. George is an independent voice on a whole range of subjects. Not only does he write books, he also publishes regular comment pieces in the London Guardian newspaper. In addition he keeps an interesting blog on his website. A recent post was on the subject of career advice, in this case he writes specifically about careers in journalism, however, on reading it the advise could just as easily apply to most fields of work. 

In his piece he suggests "This is not to say that there are no opportunities to follow your beliefs within the institutional world. There are a few, though generally out of the mainstream: specialist programmes and magazines, some sections of particular newspapers, small production companies whose bosses have retained their standards. Jobs in places like this are rare, but if you find one, pursue it with energy and persistence. If, having secured it, you find that it is not what it seemed, or if you find you are being consistently pulled away from what you want to do, have no hesitation in bailing out.

Nor does this mean that you shouldn’t take work experience in the institutions whose worldview you do not accept if it’s available, and where there are essential skills you feel you can learn at their expense. But you must retain absolute clarity about the limits of this exercise, and you must leave the moment you’ve learnt what you need to learn (usually after just a few months) and the firm starts taking more from you than you are taking from it. How many times have I heard students about to start work for a corporation claim that they will spend just two or three years earning the money they need, then leave and pursue the career of their choice? How many times have I caught up with those people several years later, to discover that they have acquired a lifestyle, a car and a mortgage to match their salary, and that their initial ideals have faded to the haziest of memories, which they now dismiss as a post-adolescent fantasy? How many times have I watched free people give up their freedom?

So my second piece of career advice echoes the political advice offered by Benjamin Franklin: whenever you are faced with a choice between liberty and security, choose liberty. Otherwise you will end up with neither. People who sell their souls for the promise of a secure job and a secure salary are spat out as soon as they become dispensable. The more loyal to an institution you are, the more exploitable, and ultimately expendable, you become."

For more advice from George click on the link above.

One Earth One Race

Angaangaq Angakkorsuaq is an Eskimo-Kalaallit Elder whose family belongs to the traditional healers of the Far North from Kalaallit Nunaat, Greenland. He share a simple message. Well worth watching.

Worth a Gander

Let it go

Michael Leunig is a fabulous Australian cartoonist and a brilliant artist too boot.
I love how this image illustrates the way our path is provided by letting go, letting it out, letting it all unravel !!!

Medicine Song from Sierras

Click on the words in Orange and you'll hear an opening introduction that describes how the Medicine Song from the Sierras came into being. Here sung by Sam Edmondson who was given the song by a mountain while he was on a solo vision quest in the Sierra Nevada mountain range.

Medicine Song from Sierras 

Try closing your eyes and allow the sound to flow over you, through you, under you, all around you, and ask yourself the question;  won't you open up and flow like a river?

Thanks to Filiz Telek for recording and sharing this beautiful song.

Being Lost

This poster marks the entrance to a special exhibition currently running at the British Library. Not all those who wander are lost, is a quote by JRR Tolkien from Lord of the Rings. You can take your own meaning from this. It is noticeable that so often being lost is a derogatory term. Especially for someone like me who enjoys pouring over a good map to discover where I am. Who prides themselves on having a good spatial awareness to find my way around. Despite these qualities I have to admit for a while now I have been lost. Not so much geographically. More lost in myself. In knowing who I am and what it is I am here to do. Only recently have I truly come to feel into what that means and boy have I been fighting it. Fighting with my feelings of being lost.

In response I'm on the lookout for structure to provide some semblance of knowing to cling onto as I try to find my way out of the malaise. Seeking in some way to stop the realisation that I have utterly no idea where I am, who I am or what to do!!! It's a peculiar place to be. Now I understand the saying, 'I'm running to stand still', because the more I try to not be lost, well the more I am lost and stay lost.

So, what am I to do?

Maybe I should try and get familiar with the lost feeling. Check out the terrain in lostville, possibly slowdown the search out of town and try to stop fighting the lostness, at least for a while and see what happens. Easier said than done when all my core instincts are seeking to not accept being lost. I sense my struggle is less about not wanting to be lost and more about not wanting to accept being lost. It feels way to unsettling, uncomfortable, disconcerting and downright unnerving to contemplate accepting the state of lostness.

Even as I write this I sense my playfulness is another avoidance tactic to prevent my feelings of truly being lost from creeping to the surface. Why? Because it is overwhelming. In the darkest times it feels like a tunnel with no light and my sense of self is dissolving into nothingness. Listlessly the weight of inertia drags me down further into nothingness and procrastination drains whatever energy may have been there. The indecision is cripplingly frustrating creating a fog like existence.

Don't get me wrong here, my life certainly has its high points and its good times. I have much to be grateful for, nevertheless, the inescapable lack of direction, motivation and purpose is palpable. The not knowing is a huge cloud floating above my head casting its shadow. And yet today I read in Bill Plotkin's book Soulcraft that being lost is a good thing. Out of the darkness gems are to be found that teach us a new way of being. I am being lead to beleive in my confusion the shape of a new identity is being forged.

I look forward to some signs of new beginnings to emerge from this cocoon I'm in. A shape not yet known or seen by myself. I want to believe that is what is happening. More than that I want to feel this is what is happening. I can only be patient some more and wait ... and dare I say it, Trust that all is as it's meant to be and all will be well. If I am prepared to say this to others I now must say it to myself. Patience and Trust. All will be well. All is as it's meant to be.

Silence is Golden

Why life unfolds as it does is a mystery

It's been over 3 months since I last posted to my blog. This is the longest gap in posting since I started up in 2007. I am curious how and why this happened. Firstly, it has been an unplanned break and an unexpected one in the sense that it is only recently that I've become consciously aware of my blog and the lack of postings. It is as if my blog simply disappeared from my conscious horizon. This happens in so many ways, not only my blog vanishes, but people, places, events, objects, experiences and memories. They are all present one moment and then in the blink of an eye they are gone. If this can happen to my blog I am left wondering what else in my life has disappeared from my awareness without me realising?

In the last few weeks I have had the space to slow down and it is now I am realising what I have left behind in my packed out schedule.  I have had much to share and write about during the last 3 months, however, my attention has been on the act of 'doing', the living and participating in experiences, rather than processing, reflecting and sharing. Being in the present moment immersed in being is ok, to a point. Where I am more uncomfortable is in the lack of deeper processing, reflection and contemplation. Without this complementary dimension I feel my life becomes blinded from the connections, the relational knowing that is also present. What might be called the transpersonal experience. All doing and not enough awareness of being is like living as an individual seperate entity and not recognising or engaging consciously with the universal whole. Time can fly and it can feel like I am having a lot of fun, and yet there is no sense of the deeper and greater connection to meaning or purpose to the great universal being beyond the individual separate self.

Last night I was reading Harvey Arden's Dreamkeepers on the life of the Australian Aboriginal. Chapter 17 'The Mystery of Wayrrull' introduced a most fascinating character, David Mowaljarlai.

© Harvey Arden 1994 photo of David Mowaljarlai

 
This is what david had to share ... "What's important is beyond all understanding - that's the first thing you must understand," ... "Ask me questions if you like ... but remember the same question's got different answers for different people.Maybe they're true for you, maybe not. And never forget - everything's a mystery anyway. Once it stops bein' a mystery it stops bein' true."

"I go to teach in the universities in Perth or Sydney or wherever young people'll listen to me. Give 'm one o' my messages. You call 'm lectures, but they're messages. Words carry the spirit, you know? That's about all we Aboriginals have left to give the world. Spirit. But that's a lot, and we're always glad to share it. So sit down in the sharde here. I'm glad you blokes caught me before I left."

"Identity," he began. "That's the thing."

"I know who I am. I have my identity. I am a Nagarinyin man. My dreaming is Hibiscus. That's my symbol, a beautiful pink flower. And this ... this is also my symbol."

His eyes burned with an incandescent pride.

"This is my brand, my identity. We have to spill our blood on the earth, spill our blood in the country to make it ours. Once we spill our blood there we belong to the country. When another Aboriginal looks at these scars, he knows where I'm from, what my country is, who I am. He knows my identity and I can look at him and know his.

"But these days my people don't belong to their country anymore. They've been locked out. White man took the land away from them. Took their identity away, too. Our people don't know where they're from anymore. They don't know their grandfather or grandmother. They don't know why they're on this earth. They hurt. They hurt in their hearts. They dry up like a desert. They're empty, like an empty drum inside.Got no life inside 'm. That's why they want the grog so bad. To make the hurt go away. To make it wet again inside."

"So they get into all kinds of humbug and kill 'mselves and each other. People I know who were young in the sixties and seventies ... they're dead now. Gone. I have to bury 'm.  But I'm an old man now ... they should be buryin' me!"

"And it's all because they don't know their right place. They don't know their country anymore. They don't know their borders, their boundaries. Everyone needs to know their place and where their borders is.  If they don't know that, then they don't know their own identity. Without that they have no soul, nothin'. That's their creation place that country.  When they die the soul goes back there. Doesn't matter where they die, their soul goes back to their country. But now their soul is lost. They never knew their country so their soul doesn't know how to get back there."

"Even worse, today's generation don't want to listen. They've lost it and don't want to know it. They don't want to know who they are. So that's why I go around teachin' about Aboriginal identity. Teach white people, teach black people. teach 'm about Aboriginal culture. I'm trying to give the Aboriginal back his identity ... That's my work, that's my life."*

David's words spurred me to ask myself to what extent do I know my identity? Do I even want to know? To which I say a big YES. If this is true how do I go about rediscovering who I am, where my country is and reconnecting to the land? Even in a country as small in land mass as the United Kingdom there are many tribes. If I think about my travels about this land I recall many differences in topography, architecture, geology, climate, food and dialects all of which tell varying stories of the people and the land.

When did this disconnection take place?
Was it my generation, my parents?
Or way before that?
Who knows where I am from anymore or where I belong?
I wonder is it possible to start again?
Could I begin relating to the land where I now find myself?
How do I do this?
Aboriginal men scar their bodies. Their blood touches the land and forever connects them to that place. Is this how Celtic people were initiated into adulthood?

So many questions swim around in my mind searching for answers and I am reminded of David's earlier words, 'the same questions got different answers for different people'. And most of all - 'what's important is beyond all understanding.' Maybe it is not about having answers. It's more about asking questions and acting on these questions by allowing this curiosity to light the path ahead.

And back to where I started in this mystery; why did I stop writing my blog 3 months ago? I have no idea. But I did stop. And then I started gain. That is all I need to know.
 

*Arden, H. (1994) 'Dreamkeepers', HarperCollins, NY, (p.197-200).