10 Jan 2018
There are no beliefs here.
I am on my own.
In my being with whatever waits in the darkness
there is nothing but my self to sustain me.
All the frippery and ephemeral disappear,
unseen in the night,
In the Blindness there is only the Light
glowing from within,
a bubble-shield illuminating a few bare centimetres,
not even the length of my foot
shuffling its next tiny step.
Who can tell in the darkness?
It is enough to move in the Light,
trusting my Self not to seek to know –
Why? Where? How? –
trusting whatever this is
It is a precarious way to live.
I wasn’t born depressed –
I was born free.
Somehow, I picked it up, or learned it,
or caught it.
Maybe the could-be-crack in me faulted under stress.
Maybe it was a virus, like the one that causes stomach ulcers,
or a cancer-like cell that hides in us all.
Maybe I looked down once too often and the fear stuck.
It doesn’t matter now. read more …
Winds roar and the bushfires blaze – it’s been going on for weeks now. The weather on the weekend was dry and intense, the sun hidden all day behind the smoke. The sky was white, the white of cumulus clouds, but closed in tight like one of those grey, misty days. It was hot, for here. At 6.30pm on Saturday, whilst picking up my fish and chips, I saw the sun for the first time. It was startling: lolly red, and without any eye-flinching brightness – a great flat lolly without the stick just hanging in the sky. Amazing. And the light reminded me of the almost-total eclipse when I was at Auburn in ’76 on prac.