i
Wait for me as I hover over a land of gracious beauty and delve into
the waters of God
wait while I kneel on glass bleeding not feeling pain just grateful for being alive
wait yet longer while my heart pounds thankful for being in my chest
love me from a distance as I become my Self
hold my image in your heart and pray I will come
wait as I yield to the triumph of God –
blistering beauty of sunset
tranquil slate-smooth lake where we once met
hold the thought of me
let me be who I am becoming
wait while I feel every emotion and be all I can be
see me in light bright as bird wings flapping fast on a winter’s day
hold onto something
not me
let me go
let me be me
ii
Window opens onto glacier's blinding purity
purer than my own heart yet melting just the same
I fall into the melted freeze as it roars downwards into that smooth grey lake
where we met
wait for me there
let your heart slow to the bird's wing as it alights the branch
see yourself above it
floating in ether
shimmering vapour
hold the vapour
that is me
Saturday, 27 August 2011
Friday, 26 August 2011
Rumi - On Living in a State of Love
The intellectual is always showing off,
the lover is always getting lost.
The intellectual runs away,
afraid of drowning;
the whole business of love
is to drown in the sea.
Intellectuals plan their repose;
lovers are ashamed to rest.
The lover is always alone,
even surrounded by people;
like water and oil, he remains apart.
The man who goes to the trouble
of giving advice to a lover
gets nothing. He is mocked by passion.
Love is like musk. It attracts attention.
Love is a tree, and the lovers are its shade.
~Rumi~
Note: Rumi was a 13th Century Islamic Poet, Saint, and Spiritualist. He challenged the hypocrisy so often found in religion, and wrote of the deep love between the human and the Divine. He lived as he wrote, and his works still inspire us to live in a state of love and compassion.
Love and Light
xxx
the lover is always getting lost.
The intellectual runs away,
afraid of drowning;
the whole business of love
is to drown in the sea.
Intellectuals plan their repose;
lovers are ashamed to rest.
The lover is always alone,
even surrounded by people;
like water and oil, he remains apart.
The man who goes to the trouble
of giving advice to a lover
gets nothing. He is mocked by passion.
Love is like musk. It attracts attention.
Love is a tree, and the lovers are its shade.
~Rumi~
Note: Rumi was a 13th Century Islamic Poet, Saint, and Spiritualist. He challenged the hypocrisy so often found in religion, and wrote of the deep love between the human and the Divine. He lived as he wrote, and his works still inspire us to live in a state of love and compassion.
Love and Light
xxx
Thursday, 25 August 2011
The Bush Turkey & The Bandicoot
We don’t often get to see Bandicoots, because they are, after all, nocturnal creatures. Yet, here I am, at half past midday, watching the matriarch of the Bush Turkeys and the tailless Bandicoot sharing oats just outside my kitchen. There are two Bandicoots - one with its tail, and one who must’ve had an encounter with the Farmer’s Wife. They eat at different times, as Bandicoots travel solo. That is, unless they’re travelling with their feathered friends.
I go out and throw some more oats around for them, and the Bandicoot, which used to hop away, terrified by my presence, doesn’t even flinch. I watch him eating and just the sight of his little mouth chewing the oats fills me with such love that I can’t contain it!! My heart is overflowing, and I thank God for these wonderful visitors who have changed their way of living in the world, just as I have.
Looking out the kitchen window, I spot another Bush Turkey coming to check out the little creature who just shouldn’t be here on her watch. She struts, spreads her tail feathers and, backing up to the Bandicoot, throws sand all over him with her strong feet. The Bandicoot is quite unconcerned, as his new friend, the matriarch, chases her away, and resumes her meal, side by side with her friend. The other turkey comes back for another look, but the matriarch just chases her away again and again. She is not only completely unfazed by the little fellow’s presence, but is protective of him as well.
Their behaviour fills me with awe, and shows me, once again, that we can all get on with each other with just a little tolerance and acceptance of each other’s differences. I am truly blessed to be living in this state of Love.
Love and Light
xxx
I go out and throw some more oats around for them, and the Bandicoot, which used to hop away, terrified by my presence, doesn’t even flinch. I watch him eating and just the sight of his little mouth chewing the oats fills me with such love that I can’t contain it!! My heart is overflowing, and I thank God for these wonderful visitors who have changed their way of living in the world, just as I have.
Looking out the kitchen window, I spot another Bush Turkey coming to check out the little creature who just shouldn’t be here on her watch. She struts, spreads her tail feathers and, backing up to the Bandicoot, throws sand all over him with her strong feet. The Bandicoot is quite unconcerned, as his new friend, the matriarch, chases her away, and resumes her meal, side by side with her friend. The other turkey comes back for another look, but the matriarch just chases her away again and again. She is not only completely unfazed by the little fellow’s presence, but is protective of him as well.
Their behaviour fills me with awe, and shows me, once again, that we can all get on with each other with just a little tolerance and acceptance of each other’s differences. I am truly blessed to be living in this state of Love.
Love and Light
xxx
Sunday, 7 August 2011
Bush Turkeys, Cockroaches, and Other Friends
I was awakened this morning by what I knew was a bush turkey throwing things around my front verandah, in order to get my attention. I knew which one of the nine daily visitors it was, so I jumped into my uggies and went out before anything was broken! There she was, all smug and self-satisfied, but at the same time pretending to be innocent, as she stood beside two overturned clay pots she'd been rolling around. I gave her some leftover cooked brown rice –the early bird gets the rice (or the oats). Once all the others realised something was going down, they descended from the She-Oak, pushed through the paling fence from next door (where they are not welcome), and came running along the footpath from their early morning scratchings in other people's gardens.
One of the younger turkeys likes to eat the oats I give them straight out of the cup, as I hold it for her. The others aren't as brave –she's the Jonathan Livingston of the group! If the door is open and she can see me, she'll scratch the verandah and stare at it, then look at me, as if to say, "There's nothing there!" Sometimes, though, she just likes me talking to her, and she'll make little clacking noises back, peering sideways at me out of one eye, head slightly cocked.
I've had my entire front garden rearranged, and had to move some pots to the back verandah (which is blocked by a gate), so they couldn't dig out the soil. I even put rocks on top of one pot, and the turkey who likes to roll pots around threw all of the rocks out –just because I wouldn't come out and feed her –the more noise the better! As soon as I came out, she stood beside her work, looking very pleased with herself. And I thought these birds were dumb... But that's the trouble with humans –we see ourselves as so much more intelligent and advanced than all of the other creatures who inhabit the earth. And then we wake up from that dream, and realise that we're really not!
Even the humble cockroach is capable of understanding us, yet how many of us can understand them? I was watching television one night, when a large brown cockroach scurried across the floor in front of me. It was about the same colour as the floorboards, so the movement gave me a fright, and I gasped. The cockroach ran, so I apologised for giving it a fright, and said hello. It stopped, turned around and came to stand in front of me, antennae twitching, like an enchanted creature in an animated film, and listened as I spoke to it. Later that night, I met it again in the bathroom, and it stood by the basin and watched as I cleaned my teeth and washed my face. We had a little chat about the role of a Bodhisattva, and it just knew I wasn't going to harm it.
A couple of nights later, I found it on its back in the kitchen, and thought it was dead. I picked the poor little thing up in a paper towel, and it came out of its coma (probably had too much to eat, as I hadn't done the washing up!) and held onto my finger with its front foot. I put a drop of water on my fingernail and offered it, and the cockroach held onto my finger and drank the water from my nail. I gave it a few more drinks, then took it back into the bathroom, scrunched up the paper towel, and gently popped the cockroach on top. When I went back into the bathroom later that night, it was lying on its side, snuggled into the paper towel, with the most happy expression throughout its whole being. Before that, I didn't know that cockroaches had emotions, but, in that moment, I realised the significance of working towards Enlightenment in order to raise the consciousness of all sentient beings –and that that included cockroaches!
Several years ago, when my dogs were still alive, I had a similar experience with a cricket. It was lying on the floor, and I picked it up to throw it into the garden, but realised it was just dehydrated. I put some water in a little plastic spoon, and offered it to the cricket. It sat on the end of my thumb, drinking from the spoon. I almost swooned, my heart was so filled with love!!! I put some sand and leaf litter in a shallow dish and put in one spoon with crushed dog biscuits and another with water. I popped the cricket into its new home, and, later, saw it was eating the biscuit crumbs. So happy!
One of the younger turkeys likes to eat the oats I give them straight out of the cup, as I hold it for her. The others aren't as brave –she's the Jonathan Livingston of the group! If the door is open and she can see me, she'll scratch the verandah and stare at it, then look at me, as if to say, "There's nothing there!" Sometimes, though, she just likes me talking to her, and she'll make little clacking noises back, peering sideways at me out of one eye, head slightly cocked.
I've had my entire front garden rearranged, and had to move some pots to the back verandah (which is blocked by a gate), so they couldn't dig out the soil. I even put rocks on top of one pot, and the turkey who likes to roll pots around threw all of the rocks out –just because I wouldn't come out and feed her –the more noise the better! As soon as I came out, she stood beside her work, looking very pleased with herself. And I thought these birds were dumb... But that's the trouble with humans –we see ourselves as so much more intelligent and advanced than all of the other creatures who inhabit the earth. And then we wake up from that dream, and realise that we're really not!
Even the humble cockroach is capable of understanding us, yet how many of us can understand them? I was watching television one night, when a large brown cockroach scurried across the floor in front of me. It was about the same colour as the floorboards, so the movement gave me a fright, and I gasped. The cockroach ran, so I apologised for giving it a fright, and said hello. It stopped, turned around and came to stand in front of me, antennae twitching, like an enchanted creature in an animated film, and listened as I spoke to it. Later that night, I met it again in the bathroom, and it stood by the basin and watched as I cleaned my teeth and washed my face. We had a little chat about the role of a Bodhisattva, and it just knew I wasn't going to harm it.
A couple of nights later, I found it on its back in the kitchen, and thought it was dead. I picked the poor little thing up in a paper towel, and it came out of its coma (probably had too much to eat, as I hadn't done the washing up!) and held onto my finger with its front foot. I put a drop of water on my fingernail and offered it, and the cockroach held onto my finger and drank the water from my nail. I gave it a few more drinks, then took it back into the bathroom, scrunched up the paper towel, and gently popped the cockroach on top. When I went back into the bathroom later that night, it was lying on its side, snuggled into the paper towel, with the most happy expression throughout its whole being. Before that, I didn't know that cockroaches had emotions, but, in that moment, I realised the significance of working towards Enlightenment in order to raise the consciousness of all sentient beings –and that that included cockroaches!
Several years ago, when my dogs were still alive, I had a similar experience with a cricket. It was lying on the floor, and I picked it up to throw it into the garden, but realised it was just dehydrated. I put some water in a little plastic spoon, and offered it to the cricket. It sat on the end of my thumb, drinking from the spoon. I almost swooned, my heart was so filled with love!!! I put some sand and leaf litter in a shallow dish and put in one spoon with crushed dog biscuits and another with water. I popped the cricket into its new home, and, later, saw it was eating the biscuit crumbs. So happy!
Within a couple of days, there were about seven crickets in the house, eating and drinking, and singing up a storm. I could hardly sleep for the high-pitched singing all night long, but I was so happy. Lily and Winnie were as curious as I, and didn't seem to mind the singing either. Eventually, the crickets all went on their way, and we had the house to ourselves, until the geckos moved in. But that's another story...
Love and Light
xxx
Love and Light
xxx
Friday, 5 August 2011
Sanctuary of Ruin: Touring Western Australia's Piano Graveyard, by Jason Cotter : Articles : Terrain.org
Sanctuary of Ruin: Touring Western Australia's Piano Graveyard, by Jason Cotter : Articles : Terrain.org
Ever since seeing this on the Arts show, I have wanted to visit. To wander through this wonderful homage to the craftsmen who created these pianos. I had never before thought about what happens to pianos when they die, and the thought of them ending up on the dump makes me feel quite sad. This is a very respectful ending to a (sometimes) great life!!!
You can click on the link to read the article, beautifully written by Jason Cotter.
Love and Light
xxx
Ever since seeing this on the Arts show, I have wanted to visit. To wander through this wonderful homage to the craftsmen who created these pianos. I had never before thought about what happens to pianos when they die, and the thought of them ending up on the dump makes me feel quite sad. This is a very respectful ending to a (sometimes) great life!!!
You can click on the link to read the article, beautifully written by Jason Cotter.
Love and Light
xxx
Friday, 29 July 2011
Ode To A Fig Tree
Weeping fig's branches hang languidly
over the roof of my verandah
I stand, quieted by her beauty, and,
in the silence, I hear –
the sound of chewing...
Within this hidden sanctity
I search for the source, and find –
a caterpillar
devouring a leaf
My heart swells!
I am one with the caterpillar...
I am one with the tree...
In this moment of glorious communion
I close my eyes
and know...
God is me
God is the caterpillar
God is the tree
And God is the sound of chewing,
and the glorious silence...
All at once.
(Cindy Lee - edited 20 Aug 2021)
Thursday, 28 July 2011
The Healing Power of Nature
My wonderful doctor urged me to go for a walk every day, with a one hour walk in nature at least once a week. She assured me this would help with the depression, and the chronic fatigue. However, with chronic fatigue, just the thought of a one hour walk is exhausting, let alone actually partaking. I put it off for a long time, because I just couldn't get out of bed early enough, and, later in the day, it was just too hot. Then, one day, I woke up at about 6.30am, got up and decided to go for a walk on the beach. It was blowy and the sand had been eroded by high tides and wild weather, and my walk was very uncomfortable –and exhausting! I felt worse than ever, but decided that I'd try a different direction the next day. So, instead of turning left to go down to the beach, I turned right, and walked along the track that goes through the National Park. The track actually begins at the back of my house, but my backyard is completely overgrown with fishbone fern as tall as a person, so (for the moment) I have to walk around the block.
My first walk was quite laboured, and I kept telling myself – just to the next power pole, then the next, until I finally came to the bridge (about a half hour walk). I sat and watched the tea-tree stained water babbling on its way through the trees, and out of sight towards the lake. On the other side of the bridge the water is still, and I watched spiders hanging out over the water, and dragonflies and damselflies – their jewel-coloured bodies flitting onto the water and away with their prey. I sat for ages, and allowed the healing powers of the Sacred Mother Earth to wash through me. I gave thanks for Her beauty.
The next morning, I woke at 5.30, and could barely contain myself –I was so excited about my discovery. That I'd lived in a house that has overlooked this magical track for fourteen years, yet had only walked along it once or twice (and that was before it was closed to traffic) amazed me. I used to take my dogs to the beach every day, and had ignored my own backyard.
We had a lot of heavy rain around this time. I woke up one morning after a particularly heavy storm, and it was still raining. I went anyway, because I really was starting to feel a lot better. I got a little way along the track, and it was covered in water, so I thought about turning back, but decided to paddle my way along the highest point down the centre of the track. There were yabbies swimming backwards away from me as I made my way along! I had to pick a few up and throw them back into the creek. Cobwebs looked like jewelled castles. Native grasses were covered in diamonds when I saw them against the rising sun. My heart soared to the heavens, and I thanked God for this magnificence. My eyesight had been playing up, but I could see a tiny brown frog, the size of my fingernail, on the path in front of me. I stopped and watched it hop into a puddle and swim away. Everything was washed clean. I was in Bliss! When I got home, I realised I'd been gone for over two hours!!!
One morning, I had a pain in my lower back, and as I got along the track a bit, I said, 'Sacred Mother, please pull this pain out of my lower back, and I will heal anything you want me to heal for you in return.' In an instant, the pain was gone - in fact, it was gone by the time I finished asking! Then, to keep my end of the bargain, I asked if there was anything She wanted me to heal. She told me – not yet. I had another lovely walk, and met some cheeky finches who came out of hiding to look at me and have a chat. I threw a couple of yabbies back into the creek, I sat on the bridge and pondered all of the beauty surrounding me...
On the way back, I felt a sad feeling, and Mother Earth asked me to now do the healing. There were souls of some animals who had been murdered years ago, and I called on the Holy Spirit to help them go into the Light. There were several kangaroos, and a few emus as well, which we certainly don't have here now. I finished assisting them, and continued on my walk, when I felt a tickling sensation on my right arm. I thought I must've walked through a cobweb, so I brushed it off. It kept tickling, then moved to the left arm. I thought I must have picked up a spider, so I stood still and was holding my arms out in front of me, looking for the spider, when I saw all of these little lights (about the size of marbles) dancing around my arms. I've never seen anything like it - I'd never seen auras or spirits or anything before. They danced around my arms and hands, occasionally brushing against me. It was so beautiful. I asked what they wanted –and was told they were celebrating me. What an affirmation for the work I'd been doing for the planet, and the animals and insects I'd met! They came with me almost to the gate, but when I walked out of the National Park, they left me.
I had several incredible experiences in the park, and was beginning to heal. Then a man I'd been obsessed with in my youth came to visit in April and the next day I couldn't get out of bed. Or the next. I felt completely devastated and out of balance, and I've hardly been able to get out of the house, let alone go for a long walk through the National Park, ever since. His visit stirred up so much stuff that needed to be healed. Until I could see the old patterns of love-addiction, and heal my own and my parents' issues, I was being weighed down by them. Literally – as I just couldn't get up! If these issues don't get cleared, they create havoc in the body.
I recently started getting out again, and tried to go for a walk in the National Park the other week, but it was early in the morning and my lips almost froze off my face! I'll get back down there a little later in the day during winter, because I'm always so awe-struck by every little thing that I can't just go for a walk –I need to linger, and it's hard to do that when you're freezing. I'm always stopping to look at spiders spinning their webs, dew drops sparkling on the tips of the native grasses, creating a glistening carpet along the side of the track, tiny birds twittering away in a kind of hollow that looks like an enchanted forest... I lose track of time.
I'd love to clear a track from my house down to the back track so I don't have to walk through the neighbourhood just to get there. I've noticed that, as I lose sight of human habitat, I have a lot more energy and joy, but as I'm coming back, I feel a bit weighed down, and can barely wait to get back to my own little house, which almost disappears amongst the trees. I'm going to see if the Bush Turkeys can tackle the enormous fishbone ferns at the back of the house. I recently employed them to clear a lot of weeds next to my front verandah. I sprinkled rolled oats through the weeds, and now it's beautiful. They're incredibly strong birds, so I'll give it a try in the backyard as well. I pay them in oats (and cooked brown rice, when they're really being spoiled) and they pay me by clearing the weeds, and making me laugh. They're so helpful and funny that I don't mind a few poops on the verandah, or bulbs being dug up! They give me so much joy – proving, once again, the healing power of connecting with Nature.
Love and Light
xxx
My first walk was quite laboured, and I kept telling myself – just to the next power pole, then the next, until I finally came to the bridge (about a half hour walk). I sat and watched the tea-tree stained water babbling on its way through the trees, and out of sight towards the lake. On the other side of the bridge the water is still, and I watched spiders hanging out over the water, and dragonflies and damselflies – their jewel-coloured bodies flitting onto the water and away with their prey. I sat for ages, and allowed the healing powers of the Sacred Mother Earth to wash through me. I gave thanks for Her beauty.
The next morning, I woke at 5.30, and could barely contain myself –I was so excited about my discovery. That I'd lived in a house that has overlooked this magical track for fourteen years, yet had only walked along it once or twice (and that was before it was closed to traffic) amazed me. I used to take my dogs to the beach every day, and had ignored my own backyard.
We had a lot of heavy rain around this time. I woke up one morning after a particularly heavy storm, and it was still raining. I went anyway, because I really was starting to feel a lot better. I got a little way along the track, and it was covered in water, so I thought about turning back, but decided to paddle my way along the highest point down the centre of the track. There were yabbies swimming backwards away from me as I made my way along! I had to pick a few up and throw them back into the creek. Cobwebs looked like jewelled castles. Native grasses were covered in diamonds when I saw them against the rising sun. My heart soared to the heavens, and I thanked God for this magnificence. My eyesight had been playing up, but I could see a tiny brown frog, the size of my fingernail, on the path in front of me. I stopped and watched it hop into a puddle and swim away. Everything was washed clean. I was in Bliss! When I got home, I realised I'd been gone for over two hours!!!
One morning, I had a pain in my lower back, and as I got along the track a bit, I said, 'Sacred Mother, please pull this pain out of my lower back, and I will heal anything you want me to heal for you in return.' In an instant, the pain was gone - in fact, it was gone by the time I finished asking! Then, to keep my end of the bargain, I asked if there was anything She wanted me to heal. She told me – not yet. I had another lovely walk, and met some cheeky finches who came out of hiding to look at me and have a chat. I threw a couple of yabbies back into the creek, I sat on the bridge and pondered all of the beauty surrounding me...
On the way back, I felt a sad feeling, and Mother Earth asked me to now do the healing. There were souls of some animals who had been murdered years ago, and I called on the Holy Spirit to help them go into the Light. There were several kangaroos, and a few emus as well, which we certainly don't have here now. I finished assisting them, and continued on my walk, when I felt a tickling sensation on my right arm. I thought I must've walked through a cobweb, so I brushed it off. It kept tickling, then moved to the left arm. I thought I must have picked up a spider, so I stood still and was holding my arms out in front of me, looking for the spider, when I saw all of these little lights (about the size of marbles) dancing around my arms. I've never seen anything like it - I'd never seen auras or spirits or anything before. They danced around my arms and hands, occasionally brushing against me. It was so beautiful. I asked what they wanted –and was told they were celebrating me. What an affirmation for the work I'd been doing for the planet, and the animals and insects I'd met! They came with me almost to the gate, but when I walked out of the National Park, they left me.
I had several incredible experiences in the park, and was beginning to heal. Then a man I'd been obsessed with in my youth came to visit in April and the next day I couldn't get out of bed. Or the next. I felt completely devastated and out of balance, and I've hardly been able to get out of the house, let alone go for a long walk through the National Park, ever since. His visit stirred up so much stuff that needed to be healed. Until I could see the old patterns of love-addiction, and heal my own and my parents' issues, I was being weighed down by them. Literally – as I just couldn't get up! If these issues don't get cleared, they create havoc in the body.
I recently started getting out again, and tried to go for a walk in the National Park the other week, but it was early in the morning and my lips almost froze off my face! I'll get back down there a little later in the day during winter, because I'm always so awe-struck by every little thing that I can't just go for a walk –I need to linger, and it's hard to do that when you're freezing. I'm always stopping to look at spiders spinning their webs, dew drops sparkling on the tips of the native grasses, creating a glistening carpet along the side of the track, tiny birds twittering away in a kind of hollow that looks like an enchanted forest... I lose track of time.
I'd love to clear a track from my house down to the back track so I don't have to walk through the neighbourhood just to get there. I've noticed that, as I lose sight of human habitat, I have a lot more energy and joy, but as I'm coming back, I feel a bit weighed down, and can barely wait to get back to my own little house, which almost disappears amongst the trees. I'm going to see if the Bush Turkeys can tackle the enormous fishbone ferns at the back of the house. I recently employed them to clear a lot of weeds next to my front verandah. I sprinkled rolled oats through the weeds, and now it's beautiful. They're incredibly strong birds, so I'll give it a try in the backyard as well. I pay them in oats (and cooked brown rice, when they're really being spoiled) and they pay me by clearing the weeds, and making me laugh. They're so helpful and funny that I don't mind a few poops on the verandah, or bulbs being dug up! They give me so much joy – proving, once again, the healing power of connecting with Nature.
Love and Light
xxx
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