Sunday musing

received_10210380411523253” tell me your story

so i may be so wise

to say nothing.

show me your broken

so i may be so brave

to be broken too. ”


this world, this brazen world

full of leaders, narcissists,

lovers and psychopaths;

artists drenched in intensity

of being ripped bare,

too much or too little for

” these times ”

Being tested, somewhat

for unknown karmic reasons;

in order to claim a dollar

for the ruthless tax man,

existential comforts, which

do not really exist, anymore

while mortal man

goes in search

of that happiness hit, again

of sex, sport, internet, expenditure

or rock’n’roll in the jungle,

to justify his feelings

of inadequacy to tyrants

destroying this modern, yet

once peaceful land,

even I grew accustomed

to gratefully call ‘home’.


yes there were four walls, then.


But this earth was once, a homier



i know you must know this.


Evil is being built on large scales,

mass proportions, ( don’t lie )

within cement archives,

hiddeous high rises, built overtop

of almost slain bodies, who,

are in fact, our neighbours,

becoming too numerous now,

to ignore ( I do hope you don’t )

to fit into even basic shelter,

comfort or a box, once infamously

called a ” home.”


Bowie and Queen,

in Under Pressure sang

” people on streets ”

and i did not think much of it;

ohhhh now, i am feeling it.


I thought they were exaggerating;

or it was just a

drug addicted London.


we are, afterall


here, in Australia;

I also remember asking a friend

how he was doing; his reply

” I ate good food and i didn’t

get shot at; it was a good day. ”

Only NOW I see the complete

relevance of that reply.

He lost his wife, a dreamy

romantic pisces genius,

almost too brazen, sophisticated

and weird for these times;

a man who heals other’s

open wounds ( he was a nurse –

designing wound management)

yet familiarly, unattends to

his OWN.


the wounded healer.


We are the lucky country;


We have Hoges, Leunig

and a treaty, about to take place.


cough, splutter, mini vomit;

( maybe, of wasteful bandits;

Ned Kelly had a point

and do not get me started on

SORRY and our indigenous

Our sister slam poet

who worked tirelessly to stop

fracking in Arnhem Land

left these realms this past week.

this; gutters me.

” your story is my story ”

she preached, and I,

believed her. )


But in other realms the whales

dance and sing. They do.

I have seen and heard them.

and when they wave

with their tail and tales,

you cannot help but cry

in thanks.


spoken word poets

have beautiful minds.


the lucky funky country.

No, no we are in terms of natural

landscapes and hidden wonders;

we are.


the sun, surf, forests

even the weather; mostly.

look at the land.









I had the privelege of

growing up on 2 500 acres

and no joke when I lived in the city

I would drive 450 kilometres

all the way to the farm


JUST for that peaceful night’s sleep.

Twinkling stars,

blue wrens knocking

unanimously on my frost

drenched window

left open, even in four degrees;

( something about suffocatung

in a past life. )

the cat would claw my face

and thighs, then dribble purr

until she got ‘ that ‘ attention;

signs of welcome homes,

everywhere; by the animals,

clouds, dirt,

not always the creatures

abiding there; ( except for Mum.

they usually love their children

returning home. some cardinal

sign of love, Or a thankyou, i love

you, i see you now thing,



Being an AIR sign is real.

we cannot feel trapped,

or stifled or we blow over.

We take off in search of space.

whatever it takes.


At the farm, home the dogs;

they would lick me to death

AND i could lay on my back

my head on their spine or belly

ALWAYS being welcomed.




a true home coming.


I was product of baby boomers

when there WERE jobs

‘everywhere’ in their day;

given you could spell, look

reasonable and do basic maths.

I studied at the University of

South Australia,

worked four jobs whilst receiving

NO youth allowance

( my parents were on the land

with assets )

burning out my adrenals

( unknowingly )

playing elite hockey ( NHL level )

which i LOVED;

working way too much

yet, keeping me honest;  IN

‘ the present moment ‘


but is it any wonder, one gets sick

from burnout or lack of support?


Especially, if you are remotely

intelligent; artistic or have

some kind of endogenous,

inherent drive to make

this world a kinder

gentler place,

for all.


Humility, so important.

That HAS to come into it;

afterall you were born

to be of service.


find your gift; give it away.


That simple.


HUMILITY so, so valuable.


Remaining humble, even when

you become almost famous

just as so.


I managed to work, pay off

65 000 hecs ( regrettably now )

to work in the health industry


we have to pay, to help people.

( shaking head….)


I did land my dream job with

some amazing healers; yup.

Best left of field Physios

on the planet.

The gods and madonnas

were in force that day.

( I don’t like that word – healer

it brings in,  as we know,

all kinds of gypsy notions, tarot,

shamanism, yoga, tantra,

witches, ceremony, weirdness,


and JUDGEMENTS of course. )


A True healer ( in my mind )

would never

call themselves a healer.


Nor would they ever want to

bring another down.


I shuddered when people started

calling me a healer.

My ego loved it, but

i would frown. I was

nothing, especially compared

to my work associates; a lot

had to do with the amazing

human teachers and clients

I was surrounded by.


I had through my own illness


become beautifully fluid.


I practiced my love,

craniosacral therapy

and worked with flow;


she is the healer; ” flow ”


if you believe in life force.

we are the conjuit.


I was; am just there;

holding, a body that ALREADY

knows what to do.


Sometimes there are tears

ancient stories and memories.

get cast around the room.



Ownership vansishes

and the ship begins to float again.


Everyday heros are the true

healers though.


Those quiet ones,

skirting the edges

angels undercover


” the listeners ”


those who pause


in the space.


she does exist.


There is no ego with bodywork.


This was my initial draw to

Mark and Vanessa and

the healing modality

Craniosacral Therapy; plus

i am blessed with natural touch

and ability to feel.



It is actually done with

the purity of L.O.V.E.


To pay to exist, proof of existence,

doesn’t make sense.


Like, do i have to pay to share

these words that came forth ?

I think i do.


I am a little kooky; they

ARE for everyone you know.

these words.


At times I live in the illusion of

what is mine is yours..or life is fair.

you know SHARING..


sort of, kind of.

Yet, i have to economically

insure myself, get tickets

to help people heal

and now, now

due to unforseen circumstances

with no dwelling, nor job

nor viable support needed

to sustain my physical body

and heartmind to function

at my best, in this

godforbidden place called life;

while those with well paid jobs

and children, a warm abode

or those on a ” disability”

or at least a pension or self

funded retiree

have far better quality life

than many looking

for for work opportunities,

that are NOT there

and if associated with the system,

and no family, you are screwed.


Unkindness and “bullying” runs

rampant; Mr Ordinary forgets

‘ single’

people actually exist,

Not all are monsters; even

some aesthetically divine women


yet exposed frequent ‘umarried

judgement’ and expected to

function, wholely, as feminist

or not in the real world,

the real world





( what is that anyway ? )


and on very, very very little.


what is real



According to Jonathon Cainer

( nephew of professional astrologer, deceased Cainer of the same name. )

librans are famous people

pleasers; and that is part

of the problem.

‘ Lively debate is good for the soul,

isn’t it?

How can that co-exist with the

love of playing devil’s advocate?

( the scales, the scales.)

Seeing things from so many

different perspectives,

( a blessing and curse; more so

the latter.)

Surely the two don’t work




I tended to believe it was, once.

or at least, could be.


I have a poet, healer friend

who talks in ” spirals ”

it is all spirals…she says.

and not in fighting the dark.

She is particularly wise our Aisha,

I do love her so.

Right now she is celebrating

the beginning of menopause

loving her moon, going braless

staking claim to her fate

of succulent, juicy woman hood.

She is that.


So, Ms Libran

‘ your complexity

is to be embraced, you can see

to the heart of an issue where

others value clear, definitive

answers. You recognise there is







‘ The world is NOT black and white

and as Venus links to powerful

Mars that, apparently,

is to be celebrated.’


Sorry, i went a little astro-hippy

on you.


So, our own saviour, in fact

may just be

in staying as close to mother

nature ( AND one another )

as possible.


” you find the ones

the warm ones

and you let them stay. ”


i like that notion as we are

over ridden, nowadays of

” i need my space ” folk,

which may be a polite way

of saying fuck off…too much.


i get it.


i too an am enigma.


ENIGMAS complete me,

and my little big world(s).


And; another thing,

don’t always share what you

know; too often it gets taken out

of context; if, in the wrong hands.


Remain in Humility,  love your

enemies as your friends,

‘ look at everyone as if they are

God in drag ‘ some wise guru said.


This is happening :

( as the Counting Crows sang )

‘ somewhere between the moon

and you, angels get a better view

of the crumbling difference

between wrong

and right. ”


keep your centre.


be still.


and never, ever forget

what it feels like

loving someone…




” if i loved you once

i loved you for a lifetime”



” to those i adore, or cling to,

in merchant weathers

and stormy seas, be careful,

but don’t. ”


‘ Be somebody’s reason ‘


” there is an exquisite

tenderness in knowing

and owning how fragile we are. ”



to the brash.


” be careful; you’re saying things

the threads are so fine..”



i love you.


( P.S – i wish i was being

paid for this; sorry for the many

effervescent tangents. )


with all

the love i have,


2 thoughts on “Sunday musing”

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