Category Archives: AGEING


No guest throughout the year,
the gate remains closed.
No-minded all day,
feeling easy.

Greetings my Friends. It seems I missed yesterday. Missed it almost entirely. I went to sleep on the 21st and woke up today. I was aware of a few things but only a few and I didn’t care at all. I don’t know whether  the combo of Izzy’s anniversary and finding a new place to live in did me in or not. It usually takes a platelet drop and bleed for me to pass out so fully for so long.  I was horizontal most of the day as well but am now able to sit up and walk around and my head is clearing quite a lot so I shall be able to attend to business. I have some shivering and a slight temp so I am watching things.

I now find it intolerable here as I once did in Tugun. I am not 100 % sure about the next one but will trust that there is something at work in this decision. I shall reduce my possessions even further and make myself more portable. Then I can come and go at will – something I had established before Izzy and I built our lives together. I shall also need a laptop or tablet.

I did go out for a little while late this afternoon. Just to the corner to see the clouds and back. When I got to the corner there was a very beautiful grey haired woman there and she took time to speak with me – elder wisdom it was and filled me with peace and joy. We spoke of things I long to speak of. And stopped to look at the clouds. Then she walked along.

The Wise Cloud Woman.

a moment

a word

or two

and walked away

we had seen the clouds at sunset

I feel sadness come over me now and I know that the official medical world would call it “depression” so I ain’t going near them. I am sad because of several things and a few meetings and some action will ease it. As well as recovery from the physical dimension of whatever it was.

Maybe tomorrow I shall take a drive and do a meeting.

Maybe tomorrow, I shall apply for rental bond assistance and contact the real estate agent.

Maybe tomorrow – my mind will be clear and my body strong.

Now I drink my ginger tea and prepare for bed.

Trying to image my next dwelling. My concerns about it are :

  1. the walk down the side to my place.
  2. people living above me
  3. a little girl and a steiner alternate type mum
  4. isolation
  5. no easy walks

What looks good is :

  1. the actual space
  2. closeness to the girls
  3. being away from my landlady
  4. being away from drunks and anger and gossip and violence
  5. views of a kind and space to see the sky

I guess, like Tugun was, that its more of a getting away from rather than a going to. Like the end of using in some ways. I don’t know where I’m going to but I sure know what I’m going from.

And to finish this day off – there are people out there more suited to who I now am. I can see their faces and have briefly overlapped with some. These are the people I invite into my life now.  A touch of class.

Well – isn’t that a nice awareness. The Dots of Ebor Water and the Wise Women of the Clouds. And I know there are many more. Like my new therapist.  Well- another breakthrough – a touch of Bilambil Class, my dear Douglas. A touch of class.


To display at last
Maturity of spirit

Sleep, perchance to dream

According to some scientists, the brain works as much in sleep as in waking, busy problem-solving and prioritizing what should go into memory. This is why the “sleep on it” advice for decision-making works — or is it? Clarity and insight may develop in sleep precisely because there is no work, no doing of mathematical-logical processing at all. Instead, the mind in sleep registers impressions and sorts feelings. What it resolves for waking is based on the innate sense of consciousness we possess simply as human beings. Our busy modern culture wants to work out its contrived problems “24/7.” But insight and wisdom come from “not-doing” or wu-wei. For this reason eastern sages have always seen the absence of dreams as confirmation of not-doing, as a high point of progress towards enlightenment.

hermit’s thatch › Sentiment and hermits

Sentiment and hermitsIn his poem “Old Age,” the poet Ou Yang Hsui (1007-1072) tells briefly of the burdens of getting sick when old: dry, dull eyes, aches, a fuzzy brain dull and forgetful.When I was young I liked to read. Now I am too old to make the effort. Then, too, If I come across something interesting I have no one to talk to about it.In theory, a solitary ought not to miss another’s presence but Ou Yang Hsui’s expression of loneliness is not unusual even among the worldly. Nor is a hermit immune to sentiment.Kenneth Rexroth notes that in fact the Chinese Tang poets inclined to sentiment, especially with advancing age. The poets, male and female, thought of their forties as old age, referring to the first gray hair. By late forties, the course of their days was uncertain, and by fifty the end seemed near. Perhaps given the vagaries of life expectancy in antiquity, this sentiment was not unjustified. Studies of life expectancy in past centuries revised longevity based on survival into adulthood, so that older age was not infrequent, but the poets preferred a different criteria.When the famous recluse Tu Fu (712-770) visited retired scholar Wei Pa, he reflected:We sit here together in the candle light.How much longer will our prime last?Our temple are already grey.I visit my old friendsHalf of them ave become ghosts.Fear and sorrow choke me and burn my bowels

Source: hermit’s thatch › Sentiment and hermits


I have been loooking back at the trip we took down South in 2013 and all I could see was just how ill he was looking. Pleased with his loss of weight. But he was too thin. Too frail. His hair was falling out. But do you know, we had the happiest time in those last months. I felt the strong surging of love and had promised myself to be more gentle and more kind with him – and I was.

We were very, very happy.

But MiGod he was ill.



I posed this question on Facebook tonight .

Would anyone like to tell me how come my life remains pretty much in the gutter ? I am cheerful enough sitting here – but you surely could not call me a success story.

Just going to put some of the responses so that I can consider them later.


I have looked at your life in a way many do not,as an observer and as a photographer…When I see the smiles in your grand kids faces and the relaxed way they are around you and the gifts you pass onto them.I see a woman that is a teacher and a carer..I see no failure !


I’m fucking alive because of you !!! That must count somewhere on some scale. And I do know it Lynne we are old now … And the real ones who knew us and loved us are dead and gone … It’s lonely and I can’t breath very well , nobody turns their head when I walk down the street. I’m wrinkly and punks not here to make my tea and most of the time peoples yarns bore me to tears yeah ? I know I’m a great mother a fantastic brilliant nan … But it appears all’s that left is a strange slow decay. Until death … Life is full of abuse from people who are suppose to love me, people I gave birth to. So. ?? Of course I’m depressed of fuck it I’m eating more apple pie


I’m not sure who scale you are using. I measure success by what you have given not what you have gotten….I measure it by loveliness….you rate highly in my book


Money in the bank is a convenience, it’d be nice to have but it is not a measure of success. You can still laugh, as a mother, you have been responsible for the furthering of your family line and you are so loved. Much more value in those honest achievements than any cash or possessions


Change your perception and look inward, you are the Matriarch sitting on top of your world.

the choosing

‘I shall have no partner in the
last business,
And what strength shall I
Will it take long for Death me to
What shall I know?
‘But, a good traveller, much will
be familiar,
WenVnesR will not be stranae:
Nor echoing cry, the naked will,
the dark star
Rising for bitter change.
‘ ‘Shrouds have no pockets!’ True
fool, but the heart has! ?
When my grey fingers grope,
And those at whose door I died
look what my store was,
Tell them the tax is paid; I can
take it; the white shell — Hope.’
Dayboro Times and Moreton Mail (Qld.)Saturday 8 July 1939

Today I heard of two deaths. One was a man I knew just a little who hung himself. A sweet and handsome man. A musician.

The other was a woman I have known many years. I taught her children and they are friends, close friends, with mine. She has been ill for a very long time with a degenerative disease of some kind which had fairly much crippled her. A stunning, dynamic woman.

Death was afar from me for most of my life. Nowadays, she has a different place in my life. Nowadays I am not sure what decisions I would make. The time in the Old People’s ward at Bellingen Hospital horrified me. I have had many evenings of wondering whether the time is coming for me to leave the Planet.

Before the pain eased and sleep was lost to me.

Before I was able to lift and push and move and think again.

I wondered a good deal. I thought of kayaks and the river and the opioids.

I am 67 years old now and many people I know are dead or dying. I have been driven to finding a new place in my thinking about Death.

I CANCELLED the specialist appointment today. Lied to do it . I had zero confidence in that man and didn’t like the atmosphere at his surgery. They don’t even have email or answer machine. I don’t fancy a Doc who is that far behind in the times.

My Ex is ill again with more procedures affecting him. There is a whole batch of us with Hepatitis C and I , for one, spend most days scared shitless. I am, however, NOT grabbing at wafting vapours of Possible Hope.

So each day comes along now and whatever I do or do not do is good enough. Rich enough. Right enough.

Each day comes along and :

See what a wealth of love has been lavished upon me.

Fare thee well, J. Fare thee well.

“We have to cry, in sorrow, share our grief by crying and that’s how we break that [grief], by sharing together as a community. This is an important aspect of our culture. And this is how we are brought up. I see it is lacking in a lot of other towns where we go. We go there to meet people and to share our sorrows and the white way of living in the town is breaking our culture.”

“And a lot of towns you go to for funerals, want to do their own little individual things, instead of dropping what they’re doing to get together to meet the people coming in from out of town. The family has to sit in one house, or one area, so people know that they have to go straight into that place and meet up. We go and pay our respects. You supposed to just sit down and meet, eat together, share, until that body is put away, you know. Afterwards, we do whatever we want to do, after we leave that certain family…”



And for my sister who was taken in 2012 by lung cancer.

It seems to me that I am not very far behind you all.