a little Leunig

"We give thanks for the blessing of winter:
season to cherish the heart
to make warmth and quiet for the heart
to make soups and broths for the heart
to cook for the heart and read for the heart
to curl up softly and nestle with the heart
to sleep deeply and gently at one with the heart
to dream with the heart
to spend time with the heart
a long, long time of peace with the heart
We give thanks for the blessing of winter:
season to cherish the heart.
Amen

Michael Leunig

Good old Leunig. He has his finger on what's what. Except that he forgot about tea for the heart. A cup of hot, steaming tea for the heart. He probably thinks that tea is for all of us for all seasons. If he does, he'd be right.

Ode to Shine

I am learning that the rediscovery of one's self after thinking that one was lost to the abyss of motherhood, is o so sweeter than self-discovery the first time around.

This really isn't surprising. Of course the potential to rise up all the greater, wiser, exists every time we enter a dark patch.

John Keats: Ode to melancholy...

No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist Wolf's-bane,
tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be Your mournful Psyche,
nor the downy owl A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

She dwells with Beauty - Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu;
and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

I know a lovely (beautiful!) teacher who "loves conflict". She loves it! And I sooo resonate with that passionate gratitude towards a struggle. It's through the conflict, struggle, hardship, difficult lesson, that we can learn the most and... shine!

Imagine your favourite teapot. Covered in mud. You remember how beautiful it used to be, how much you loved it. Now, though, it is caked with sticky, stinky mud. You cry, you despair, your heart aches with the apparent loss of that lovely thing. You start to wipe off the grime. Get serious. Focus on nothing else but removing that caked-on stench. And eventually, it comes clean. It's really clean! It gleams and shines and you can love it even more because of it's tricky journey. That is, if it hasn't been broken. That's a whole different rambling direction, that is. (I'm quietly confident it still has the potential to come out even more lovable, if it's broken and repaired.)

I thank this lovely teacher for being in the lives of my children. And I thank the mud that eventually is removed from my teapot (despite still, sometimes, swearing at the mud that doesn't budge). Today, I celebrate the journey with much love and thanks.

Celebrate yourself and shine on. Go on... you can listen to this to warm you up:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32Js2Ef5Ojg

xxx

May mutterings

Mutterings does have a slightly negative connotation, don't you think?

The thing with a blog, you know, is that it's very ONE sided. Which means there's a risk that I'll ramble on about nothing, with no-one to redirect the conversation (apart from the voices in my head), and no feedback to check my thoughts, encourage my perspective to broaden, gently point out that what I've just voiced is really a load of rubbish and needs further consideration. They are 5 points which could all be a bit dangerous really. My friend Lenka wouldn't have this problem. She doesn't ramble on in her blog. She reports factual events. Whilst I see that that is a safer road to walk, it's just not my road.

Of course another problem with the one-sided conversation is that it's all very well for any readers (is there anybody out there?) to sit back and be entertained, conversed with, amused, annoyed... whatever they may be. But... what's in it for me? I don't hear any responses! For all I know, I could be muttering to myself like a crazy person! And no response could well lead to any of the above, like one big not-so-merry-go-'round.

These are just some of my issues with blogging. Clearly, it doesn't stop me. As you'd know by now, I love a good ol' raaaaambammble.

Lucky for you, it's time for me to head to yoga. No more talking. Calm and grounded. Salute to the sun.

Hari Om tat sat.

May there reign here spirit-strength in LOVE

"May there reign here spirit-strength in love;
may there work here spirit-light in goodness;
born from certainty of heart,
and from steadfastness of soul,
so that we may bring to young human beings
bodily strength for work,
inward-ness of soul, and clarity of spirit.

"May this place be consecrated to such a task;
may young minds and hearts here find servers of the light,
endowed with strength,
who will GUARD and CHERISH them."

Rudolf Steiner

Happy Mama Day

What a special weekend it's been for this family!

This weekend was Charlie's first "boys weekend away" with Dada. There is only one first boys weekend. The Zimbabwean and I deem this a very significant life event indeed: one which deserves full one-on-one time with Dada. From now on, all boys in this tribe will go on many special weekends all together, but you know, the first one is a big deal.

The Zimbabwean and Chooch found the perfect place, complete with timber yurts, a highland cow and a little baby bat which slept in their yurt. There was lamb feeding, nothing but meat and garlic bread for dinner (hmmmph!), campfires, dirty-stinky-smoke-filled clothes. Apparently, it was perfect. It looks pretty perfect to me.

Meanwhile, back in the land of Mama, Noah was getting to do one of my favourite things with me, for the first time: we were off to the theatre! We saw The Magic Pudding, beautifully adapted for the stage and I cherished my Nooi's delight. His face was lit, his eyes shined, his willowy little body wriggled with laughter, and he hummed and hummed.

Noah then headed to his favourite friend's house (it was a favourite-kind of weekend) while I spread all of my self around our home, alone, relishing every moment. There was time for friends, time for yoga at sunrise, time for writing, time for studying, even a brief sewing interlude, and time for a swim in the harbour. Mother's Day was another stunning Sydney Autumn day, with even more time for picnics, friends and harbour splashing!

The day is nearly over. We're all sun-kissed and happy to be back home together, with Mama's sun-catcher from her Sun, ready and waiting for the first rays to shine through it and warm our hearts in the morning.

I'd like to conclude this post with Mama's playlist for a weekend of blissful solitary moments:
Bernard Fanning: Wish you well

Billy Bragg: You woke up my neighbourhood
Billy again (love a bit of Billy): She's got a new spell
Bjørk: Violently happy
Bjørk: More to life than this
The Clash: London calling
The Clash: Rock the Casbah
The Clash: Should I stay or should I go
The Cure: Why can't I be you
The Cure: Close to me
The Cure: Friday I'm in love
The Cure: The Lovecats; and
The Cure: Inbetween days.

(to be enjoyed whilst savouring a Lindt chocolate egg)

Happy Mothering energy day. May we all be celebrated, rejuvenated, gentle, strong, warmed, chilled, loved and loving.

Boys will be boys

Meet two of our favourite boys: Tom...

and Jo Jo.

Jo-Jo is our cousin. That means he's our blood, bru. He melts your heart every time you see him... especially when he reads "It's time for bed" to himself. Jo-Jo is very wise: he knew to say Om's quietly to himself when he was in much pain.

Tom is our friend. Chooch has always spent much time with Tom but they only really began appreciating each other (and each others' mischief) around the start of last summer. Tom is from Planet Tom: often not to be disturbed. He has gorgeous, clear blue eyes and - as my hairdresser described him on Friday (!) - always looks like he's just gotten out of bed! Tom has a thing for animals. Luckily for him, he has amazing similarities to a wombat.

We love hanging out with them, laughing with them, dancing with them, body boarding and swimming with them, consoling them.

I don't think they pay much attention to me, but I love watching them grow.

Our Island, Fiji

On our island the thunder rumbles in the distance.

On our island the best time to snorkel is when the tide is high and the sun is shining. Then we can see daisy parrot fish, angel fish, tropical garfish and leopard fish. We see iridescent small blue fish, indigo-blue starfish, clown fish, and - if you're lucky - even catch a glimpse of a blue-spotted stingray, a turtle or a reef shark.

On our island the small flat shells already have a hole in the centre so it's very easy to turn them into necklaces and bracelets.

On our island Fijian women give very good massages in an outdoor room with big open windows and only 3 walls. The outside-room is surrounded by palms and coconut trees and orchids, and has a warm breeze making the curtains dance.

On our island children are allowed to drink Fanta orange at the bar on special occasions. A pizza-chef cooks pizza in the clay pizza oven and the adults enjoy playing Farkel. Juice comes in a tall glass with fresh coconut on top.

On our island we can hang out with our friends all day. We can snorkel, learn to scuba dive, throw seaweed at each other in the water, swim in the pool (morning, noon and night). We can canoe or learn to sail a catamaran or go hand-line fishing... even in the dark! Lenka can read book after book after book for hours and hours. At meal times we can choose anything we'd like to eat including salad, chips, fish, burgers, curries, sandwiches, omlettes, croissants, and tropical fruits.

On our island there is always a hermit crab waiting to be found, a hammock waiting to be swung in, a coconut waiting to ripen, a cane toad waiting in our foot-bath.

And that is just the beginning. We hope our island will always be waiting for us to return.