Hissing Cat Dislodges Furr-Ball. Loses Customary Cool….

My girl cat Purrly, little Black panther with cat’titude has never accepted Junipurr the fluffy guy and has taught him to chase her by running whenever he comes within 20 feet of her.

This started when Junipurr was 6 weeks old – obviously a major threat given his size and fierce rrrroar…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The other day Junipurr turned up in the kitchen unexpectedly and Purrly was so outraged she hissssssed fiercely at him. So fiercely she dislodged a furr ball!

Have you ever seen a cat hissing and growling whilst also barrfing up a furr ball?

Junipurr was fascinated and kept looking from me to Purrly with a kind of ” what thu” expression on his furry face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The moral of this story? Take a lesson from your “enemy” and chill out Purrly~Gurrly….

An Ode to Creativity…

*Dedicated to Dr Jean Houston in Celebration of her 75th Birthday. Teacher my Teacher we danced in your Mystery School Class Room and New Possibilities were born.
Thankyou from the bottom of my ‘art.

An Ode to Creativity:

I have been tantalised by Creativity

Titillated, tickled, tricked and traumatised

by Creativity

Creative impulses have exalted, uplifted, transported, supported, delighted

and  then simply disappeared!

I have been courted and caught

and taught by that Invisible Force

In fact Creativity often visited me in the night whilst I was sleeping

It breathed magic into the mundane and tragic into some old pain

as I tossed and turned in my bed

of nails

And then it left, just before I awoke

like a one night stand who crept away before I could discover his last name,

leaving my room sparkling with the cryptic presence of that which was both

delightful and desperate at the same time

~0~

On Full Moon time, Creativity was a brilliant orb, sending tides of possibility

crashing upon each and every neuron

or not

After all Creativity is a close cousin of

exasperation exaggeration and expectation

and not a predictable relative at that.

Alas pre-Moonstrual tension has been known to send the ungrounded Soul

into a spin of restlessness culminating by a kind of lunacy

ah what might that old Luna see?

~0~

On a warm summers day Creativity is a fuzzy peach on a purple beach

and nothing makes sense to senses on fire that are crackling with words like

incense and desire

timeless love that will expire

Room for rent in a Mind for hire

~0~

There was a time, during the on again off again stage of our relationship

when neither of us were truly committed

and  Creativity and I parted ways

I had a fling with Apathy, that promiscuous partner who seems to demand far more

than what is given

It was a dark day of the summer of discontent and Apathy kept me very  busy crying and sighing

oh how I yearned for Creativity’s tenuous embrace

But then I awoke one day – Yes THE Awakening

and I found that Creativity had glued itself to my lungs and & every breath was like a brand new  Thought.

I breathed a sigh of relief…

From those tumultuous days of high tides and low rides in an ocean of Creative  uncertainty

We have found a new place

We set up home together

We are – dare I say and tempt fate – Happily Married

Monogomous.

Tempted by no other  although Apathy has tried to come knocking once or twice.

Snug and perhaps some what smug in one another arms we have long passed the

I love you- I hate you- I can’t live with you- Can’t live without you phase that had us fazed

The illusions have passed and we have birthed

illuminations

ruminations and

consumations

brought to life so effortlessly

no longer relying on cheap red wine, that elixir of creative angst and discontent

a familiar friend when drama and chaos seemed like the necessities of a Creative mind and altered state

As a committed couple who have worked out our differences, we truly understand one another now.

Resilient companions we know each has our own season and cycle, brilliant fruits, breath taking foliage, prickled thorns and tenacious weeds.

A garden we are co-creating together no longer baring pitch forks ready to spar!

~0~

Contrary to The Secret that whispered & shouted to millions “I AM the Creator” in my life

I have been joyously, painfully, recklessly, relentlessly shown -at long last-

that life here on Earth is  a co-creative journey!

Sigh. I don’t have to do it all alone and make it all happen anymore.

I never did of course but thats what The Secret said.

And no longer do I  lobby invisible Angels

or thank them for not answering my prayers during desperate heart and troubled mind times

because I know that Creativity is the life force and it is in every cell of existence

as we inhale and exhale one another through the eons of Time

Indeed we are Creations born of Creator

here to Create

so I no longer wrestle with trying to create that which is not yet ready to be born

or trying to Create with all what I think I know

I simply immerse myself, bask, swim & luxuriate in the

Creative Flow.

~0~

Yes I awoke one day and Creativity had glued itself to my lungs

slid down through the tendons of my arms,

moved into the muscles of my imagination and

proposed to me.

Of course I said “I Do”….

Moving beyond Building Bridges…

During  almost three decades of working in human services, I have seen the term  building bridges gain  popularity.

Its a great metaphor. Bridges exist in all countries and transcend cultural barriers. The image of a bridge doesn’t require explanation.  The image speaks the intent. We are crossing over, transcending the distance between us, l am leaving my side of the banks and arriving at yours.

It isn’t  surprising that both the visual image and the language of bridge building has  become an effective analogy  for getting along with our neighbor, resolving issues and  walking into new territory together.

A few years ago I came across a symbol that captivated my attention and spoke to my ‘inner bridge-builder’ with a clear message that bridge building, no matter how well intended, has its origins in the dual paradigms  of separation and differences.

The symbol that stetched my perception is called a Mandorla. The word is Italian for Almond and that is the shape that is created when two circles over lap.

When we are developing a process that involves building a bridge, we are starting from a point of separation, figuring  out how to transcend the distance between and seeking to unite two distinctly separated sides. With the Mandorla we can see that as two whole and complete circles retain their unique identity, there is a space where those two circles meet, where we are already connected.

This is the place where we can celebrate that as human beings we all share commonalities, we are already connected.

We breathe the same air, we have the same needs for food, shelter and warmth. As human beings we share a mutal need for love, belonging, purpose and a need for meaningful stories and sense of place in the world.

These are core human needs that form the foundation of families and communities across the planet, regardless of the different cultural, economic or political circumstances of where we live in the  place we call home.

If I am running a workshop with young offenders in juvenile detention or visiting a rural Aboriginal Community for a womens camp, the Mandorla affirms our connection. I never enter into their community or communal space  wondering how I can build a bridge between us instead I show them my Mandorla poster (see below) and ask if we can spend a bit of time looking at where we are connected.

Once we get past the obvious we are all humans, a whole range of possible  shared experiences and commonalities come forth. ‘You are left handed like I am’  or  “I like camping.. do you?’ 

As we explore our commonalities we also look at how the space outside of the Mandorla, that large expanse of the two separate circles, is the place where we learn from one another, a place where our differences are recognised within the place of our connection and not as somewhere we need to get to by crossing the bridge of our differences.

I created a poster for the ART of Change program  to  show my interpretation of the Mandorla.  I always show the poster with the wildly enthusiastic expectation  that when  people learn about the possibilities of Mandorla for the first time they too will have an ah-ha! moment and realise that the time we spend thinking about, talking about & building bridges  is time taken away from sitting  in the Mandorla of our connection & sharing in the joy of learning & growing together through one another’s Stories.

I came up with another way of expressing the Mandorla and it goes like this:

We are all the same within, regardless of which of the skins we are in!

He had a Vision & he knew he alone would have to make his leap into the Unknown…

This is a Story about a little cat with a Big Dream.

He knew there was more to life than the single beam he was walking on. So he walked forth with determination!

Alas at the end of his walk he came to a great canyon and he knew he had to make a decision…

If he did not cross over, he would forever remain on the shed most travelled…

So, like all catalysts of change who had travelled before him he leapt forth, keeping his eyes on the destination, ignoring the cold cruel concrete canyon below him.

Focus. Vision. Courage. These were the things that propelled him forth.

He landed safely, a little shaken but nevertheless happy that he had crossed the seemingly impossible divide.

Alas, once he reached his destination all was not what it seemed.

It was in fact a dead end. A flat expanse surrounded not by trees and balls of wool and fields of possibilities…

There was instead a thick concrete wall that prevented him galloping over the next shed shaped hill!

He was disappointed.       He miaow miaow miaowed in sorrow.

And his miaows attracted the attention of a young woman who was doing some traveling of her own.

Of course she offered to help him.

And at first he reached out to accept the help that she offered him.

But then, like Simba who has remembered something the Lion King  had whispered to him….

…he stepped back from her outstretched hands, determined to make this unexpected leap on his own, just like the first one.

It had given him assurance to know a stranger has offered to help him but he knew he had to refuse her good hearted offer.

“Please., let me help you ” she implored, her own hands now stretched open wide like a human trampoline, ready to break his fall.

“Please leave” he said “Go now…I must do this alone”.

So she left, a bit relieved truth be known as it had started raining and she had answered his miaw miaow miaow without her slippers on.

When she left he took a big breath and leapt forth…

He landed safely.

This had been a big adventure.

A day of taking risks, of contemplation and following Dreams.

A day rich in the kindness of strangers, the audacity to leap beyond the known.

And perhaps most importantly it had been a day when he realised that one cat /persons rubbish bin is anothers Victory.

Such is the nature of the ambiguity of Success….

That night he fell into a deep deep sleep, exhausted after the roller coaster of exhilarating possibilities and devastating disappointments.

And in his Dreams, he was back up on that beam, King of His Destiny. A little furry guy with the world at his paws.

His name is Junipurr. He asked me to share his story so that others may also  have the courage to follow  their dreams, to accept the kindness of strangers

….and to know when you must do what needs to be done without a safety net to catch you…

A letter to the Goddess…

Dear Goddess within all things…
Just a quick note to apologise for the exclusion you continue to experience here on earth by the absence of She and Her in a world where God is He and Him and she and her have little letters and the Goddess is barely mentioned.

I understand the  historical references to the Divine as Male, Man , Father and Son and that they originated in a different time to the exclusion Woman, Mother and Daughter and that it continues across Religions today.

However please be assured there are many of us who are aware of the importance of recognising the Feminine Divine and are actively naming the of gender unbalanced worship in order to reintroduce the presence of the Goddess.

We recognise Women play predominantly invisible or subservient and secondary roles in the Stories  used as the curriculum for Spiritual Development class across many religious groups and we look forward to all that is in store as the Mother-Daughter, Mother Nature consciousness is reclaimed, restored and reignited.

Sincerely

Your SiStars and Daughters, Mothers and Grandmothers and Aunties everywhere

She is no longer in my Bed ~ She lives on in my Heart and Head…

** Poetry inspired by Imagery**

For a few minutes each day, in the summer time, the sunlight reflects from the bonnet of the car and casts a huge imprint of the lace curtains on to the bedroom wall.

The frangipani tree is sometimes silhouetted as well and the other day I walked past the window and my own shadow loomed before me.

It was a stark contrast to the multi coloured pillow case and purple lamp underneath it.

Seeing the image made me ponder about rooms and   invisible memories  and how blessed I am to be in a peaceful relationship with a peaceful man.

From my younger years I remembered how we  can be so impacted after a relationship ends, that it seems that even though he /she has gone, their presence is tangible and the memories of the lost~beloved casts shadows over our tomorrow.

The  imprint of the Love we have lost is represented  by a shadow that is only visible to the broken heart. In the photos  the rhythmic folds of the lace curtains have been transformed into bar-like lines~ symbolic of how imprisoned we can become  to the Love whose time has come and gone and the bitter sweet impact of having loved so passionately for it to then become a story of our past, never in the present again….

So I decided to write a poem. It is a fictional poem but a fact of life for so many who fall asleep nursing a broken heart and wake up to the lonliness of Love lost.

My poem honours the men who weep in silence because they were taught long ago not to show their feelings so they fall asleep at night with it all bottled up inside…

She is no longer in my Bed

For four passion filled years she lived by my side

holding  me tight

through many a night

Together we laughed and played and fought

She used to call me her Improbable Mr Right

Then one day with out warning

(I never saw the storm clouds forming)

She said I’ve met someone who is more Mr Right

than you

Within 24 hours she was gone from our

now broken home

which was  just a hollow  empty shell

 

and of course I was broken & homeless  too….

 

For long dark hours

in the grave where love sours

I yearned for her presence to

come back to me

Even when I began to date once again

despite my heartache & pain

Her presence hovered in and around

within every living cell of  me.

 

I fall asleep with

the emptiness of her

in my arms

Fire  & passion now gone from my life

along with her charms

 

I  miss her  outrageous opinions and views

She was my best friend and my Muse

but now another man calls her

My Beloved Wife

 

 

Sun Dried Tomatoes ~ It’s as Simple as That!

Our Summer garden has erupted with tomatoes, beans, potatoes, cucumbers, strawberries, lettuce and lots of herbs and our first crop of grapes and figs.
Late rains, lots of sun and Sal’s Gardeners know-how has resulted in a rich blessing of organically grown vegetables.

I didn’t know that it is very easy to make sun dried tomatoes. We had our first small plate of them this weekend and have made some more.
I will update the photos as the tomatoes begin to dry.

All that is needed is:

Tomatoes, a knife, a tray and some salt

 

Wash the tomatoes…

 

Cut them in half longways, leaving them joined at the bottom

 

Sprinkle the tomatoes  evenly with salt.

Do they make your mouth water? It’s hard not to eat them when you are salting them…

 

Find a sunny spot in the garden and the sun will evaporate their moisture over  the next few days.

 

On the third day the two trays have shrunk to one and we can see the tomatoes begin to look like the Sun Dried Tomatoes they are becoming…

 

Juno’s Purrfect World – New Blog

You are invited to call by my new blog (developed in partnership with Juno  - a.k.a. Junipurr Rose

…and hear what Juno has to say in:

“Juno’s Purrfect World”…

A Huntsman Spider has joined me for morning tea….

Huntsman Spiders are very common in Australia and will often appear from seemingly nowhere.

They tend to go for a high space, away from predators ( humans and cats) and are often hunted and killed by terrified humans whose relationship with Spiders has been ruined by the films like Anachrophobia (link) and the wide spread primal fear that anything small and crawly is a great threat and must be destroyed.

I was delighted to see a Huntsman has turned up in my studio and is sitting motionless above the window.

I first spotted him at the other end of the house yesterday… they like to move around in the dark when the predators are sleeping and he walked the full length of the house during the night.

The zoom lense on my camera has captured the delicate hairs over my visitors exquisite legs. He hasn’t moved for the last couple of hours.

Some people within the diversity of Native American culture consider the Spider to be totemic and the bearer of gifts and medicine.

I wrote a previous blog entry about “Spiderwoman” here after Night-Spiders appeared in my garden a couple of summers ago and created magnificent webs night after night, unravelling them in the hours before dawn only to re-weave them again after dark….You can see the video in the blog post  that I made of Night-Spider weaving with such precision and rhythm….Master weavers extraordinaire!

I have had many Huntsmen Spiders come to live in my home over the years and for a period of time there was one I called Morry who lived under the eave of my caravan and travelled thousands of miles with us during a trip around Australia… He would emerge from under the safety of the eave at night to feast on the dozens of insects that were attracted to the outdoor light on the caravan wall….He didn’t have to work hard for his tea as flying insects in the tropics are in abundance!

One day I went outside and there was Morry’s lifeless form with a ‘thread’ coming from his back with a shapeless ‘thing’ at the end,  seemingly dead… I thought he must have been poisoned but a few hours later Morry re-emerged from the shapeless form at the end of the thread that he was hanging from, leaving behind a perfectly shaped, very empty Spider skin…

He was larger and darker than before and I was fascinated as to how he could have squeezed into that old skin of his!

I kept his old perfectly-shaped, empty skin in a Molly-Bushells lolly tin and occasionally would bring it out when fellow travelers visited –  no doubt contributing to the wide spread anachrophobia after placing empty-Morry on the table when they weren’t looking  and blowing on him to make his skin shoot across the table towards  the unsuspecting guest.

I would like to apologise to anyone I terrified in the name of fun back then and to my Mother for sending Morry home in the tin that day. The silly things we do in  our youth! lol

Here is a video that someone has posted of a Huntsman shedding his skin after she accidentally showered him with water whilst  watering the garden.

One of the comments on the video pointed out that water assists in the shedding process…

Spiders are Mother Natures perfect creations! 8 delicate legs surrounding a perfect “8″ shaped Mandala….

How lovely when one strolls into the house and sets up home for awhile…

Celebrating the Women that we have Known & the Love that They Have Sown…

 

Another much loved Elder passed away recently. This Mandala poster (below) was created in memory of the senior  Women who have passed away and the empty seats they have left in our Women’s Group.

We farewelled Aunty L in the Church she loved in the Community that is her Heart and Soul.

 

 

 

 

 

“We celebrate the Women we have Known and the Love that They have Sown” is a black and white      coloring in  poster that gives a creative place for the loss and the grief to be expressed as well as the happy times and  beautiful memories of the Mothers, Sisters, Aunties and Grandmothers who are no longer with us.

We miss you very much  sisters Aunty I and Aunty L ….

 

 

 

 

 

Celebrating the Women we Known & the Love that They Have Sown...

The Centre Flower surrounded by Hearts represents the Love that is seeded by our Mothers.
The circle of seeds surrounding the Hearts symbolises how the love continues down the generations and is seeded each time we remember her and tell stories.
The Spiral Flowers remind us that the circle of life continues and the circle within the circle shows us that as Women, we are who we are because of the Women who have travelled before us…..
The three lined border is the River of life…ever flowing, sometimes fast, other times trickling…and the tears we cry when we are missing her, come from the waters where we are all One…..

Colouring the Mandala:

Red for the power of the Emotions
Blue for tranquility and peace of Mind
Green for nourishment and growth…
Orange and Yellow for the Sun and the Flowers.
Pink for the peaceful Heart
Purple for the colour of the sun as it sets on the horizon…