a child

fingers on a piano

old woman

hands on a wheel

the web spins itself

Well. I did it ! I picked Saffron up and took her to school and later I went to her piano recital  and brought her home. I am VERY happy. This is another of those things which I thought I might never be able to do again. I have also done half a year without being hospitalised. I was able to walk up with her all the way to her classroom. Good stuff, eh?

Kaybee looked rested with not having to go out at all today. And the Saf and I went to the Prov and had potato scallops.  It was a happy time for me.

I also have a curry brought to me by Janine Howe who fixed my computer. She brought 2 fruit crumbles as well. Delicious.


My mind is peaceful and I feel less harassed despite planning going on in my head.



The hermit is an important figure at the outset of the hero’s journey, represented in folklore and mythology as the wise encouraging guide, the dispenser of protection, counsel, and well-being. The hermit may be presented as the solitary wise one dwelling in a forest or cave, that is, the source of strength in the receded consciousness that represents stability and a reservoir of compassion and wisdom, stern but reassuring. Thus, as the adventure begins,

Whether dream or myth, in these adventures there is an atmosphere of irresistible fascination about the figure that appears suddenly as a guide, marking a new period, a new stage, in the biography. …
The first encounter of the hero-journey is with a protective figure (often a little old crone or old man) who provides the adventurer with amulets against the dragon forces he is about to pass …

The crone or fairy godmother in European fairy tales, the Virgin in Christianity, the African Mother of the Gods, the Native American Spider Woman, the Eastern Cosmic Mother, Dante’s Beatrice, Goethe’s Gretchen -— all manifest supernatural guidance, especially representative of the peace of Paradise and the cosmic womb. Masculine figures of aid and guidance are usually “some little fellow of the wood, some wizard, hermit, shepherd, or smith.” In higher mythologies, the masculine guide is the teacher, and especially the ferryman, such as Hermes or Thoth. [An accessible example, not mentioned by Campbell, is the character of the ferryman in Hesse’s novel Siddhartha.]

The Desert Mothers | Features | Spirituality & Practice

Who were the desert mothers?These women lived in the fourth and fifth centuries, C.E. Their way of life came into being after Christianity had become legal and Christians were no longer under persecution. Some had deep questions about an expression of the faith that was taking on the trappings of the Roman Empire. The “red martyrdom” (sacrificing one’s life rather than recanting faith in the resurrected Lord) was no longer possible. So the practice of the “white martyrdom” began to appear — women and men going to the deserts of Egypt and the Holy Land, and seeking to live out the Great Commandment: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27, Dt. 6:5, Lev. 19:18) As scholar Roberta Bondi has pointed out, the desert mothers and fathers are remarkable for their daily practice of seeking to “love as God loves.”

Source: The Desert Mothers | Features | Spirituality & Practice


Another day at home but clear headed and going on God’s own good guidance. Took a run up to the Kids’ place and laughed a lot

Did my food shopping at IGA after dark and then headed down to the AA  MEETING in Bellingen. The outcome of that was that there had been a fight. V , to whom I credit gross mismanagement of one rehab and now has management of another one , apparently has hit one of our Members and a blue had broken out.  A rehab manager involving members and his rehab boys. That is not a good look.

I prepared one of my decadent dinners and enjoyed it. I can almost smell freedom now. May it keep coming my way. My head has been blissfully functioning all day.


Just keep on waiting.

And here is a symbol of Iz and Me. Me with camera and him with the Music.


When the spiritual malady is overcome, we straighten out mentally and physically.



from the exquisite poet. Eckermann.

My nana opens windows

Weaving songs

And gently tells

Real myths.

Ali Cobby Eckermann

There you go then. Suddenly some surprise good things happened from my defeated state. My girls popped in with food and coffee. I cancelled both Doctors. 2 Urunga women came a-visiting. One brought me a piece of art she had just made and the other I have known since she was a girl and we talked of many things. She told me that I was very well loved in Urunga especially by the children I taught and their families.  They also told me that they loved me and wished I would come back. What a surprise visit that was.

So much of the time, I feel like such a failure.

So often I spend time wondering about whether I have got it all wrong over my lifetime. Abandoned.

She told me also that I was indeed there for my parents all the time.

The other girls, the Artist , she calls me Mii-Mii which I love. Grandmother. A few weeks back she gave me a delicate piece of pottery that she had made.

And then I went shopping at the GreenGrocer in town. Freshly baked rice puddings were in and lasagne and Worts Organic Soft drink. My favourite.

I still see no solution to what I am unhappy with but the day came down a wrapping me up in good things.

Now I have had a short call from Arkue and I am tucked into this Den of Mine. Comfortably fed.


Sorry business

When Aboriginal people mourn the loss of a family member they follow Aboriginal death ceremonies, or ‘sorry business’. Aunty Margaret Parker from the Punjima people in north-west Western Australia describes what happens in an Aboriginal community when someone dies.

Sorry business is not only mourning a deceased person but also the loss of family members due to imprisonment, drugs or alcohol. Illustration: [8]

“A cultural practice of our people of great importance relates to our attitude to death in our families. Like when we have someone passed away in our families and not even our own close families, the family belongs to us all, you know. The whole community gets together and shares that sorrow within the whole community.”

“It don’t have to be a close family. We say it is close because of our kinship ties and that means it’s family. We all get together till that funeral, till we put that person away. So every time someone comes into town whom we haven’t seen, that could be two or three days after we get the bad news, we all get together and meet that person, we have to drop what we’re doing and get together.”

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.”


My friend was at the A & E, he wasn’t feeling good
I was at the barbecue, just like he said I should.
The phone call from the hospital shocks me with fear and fright –
‘You better come to ICU, he might not make it through the night.’

I stand silent at his bedside, he looks so dead already,
I try comforting his children as their lives become unsteady.
‘Please don’t go away,’ I whisper. ‘Don’t leave us behind.’
I pray then to my Ancestors, I ask them for a sign.

We sit all night like statues, on each side of his bed,
The thought of losing him is really fucking with my head!
The nursing staff fuss round with looks of deep regret.
But I was waiting for a sign that he won’t leave us yet.

The morning light creeps slowly across red desert sand
His eyelids flicker open and he fumbles for my hand.
‘Hello,’ he whispers, ‘how are you?’ and then falls back to sleep
My eyes stare at the monitors, the bips, the dots, the beeps.

‘He’s out of danger,’ the doctor says, ‘you should get some rest.’
And as I walked along Gap Road I look out to the west
2 pelicans fly overhead, floating on the breeze,
‘It’s the sign,’ I cry and thank the Spirits watching over me.

I return to the hospital, he is much stronger now
And the nursing staff all smiling as they too wonder how?
I share the story of the sign, the pelicans in the sky
We hold each others hands and smiles are in our eyes.

I drive out to Amoonguna to tell family he is right
I sit down with his Aunty, round the campfire, in the night
I ask her to explain the pelicans and the meaning of the sign
She laughs and whispers, ‘Arrangkwe just 2 pelicans in the sky!’

Poet’s Note: arrangkwe – (arrente word) means no, nothing, no-one


Surprise.  Surprise.  Bed till Noon.  Breathing not easy.

But I do have the car and can get out and about now.

THE microwave has blown up. I thought the cockroaches that were in the LED display could do some harm and so they have. That restricts my meal preparation dramatically.

THE BLOW UP FOLLOWED MY POSTING A PIC of a Meals on Wheels meal from 2016 which I was majorly unhappy with. The damn thing went feral on Facebook and so the “Service Provider” rang threatening me with being sued for defamation and something else.

We fought our way to a HALT. I liked him. But there is a lot I do not like about Aged Services. He wanted me to take the post down but I don’t think that I will. I have clarified the details – date etc. But I do not feel like pretending that  I think paying for meals when volunteers do so much of the work is a good idea. Nor is the packaging and transporting from interstate and far away.

I do not think that expressing my opinion is defamatory. I am pretty sure that I can say ‘ I DO NOT LIKE’  or ‘ I would prefer …..”

Today a parcel came for me and it was BODY SHOP from Eden. Delightful. For Mothers’ Day.

AND WITH THE NIGHT HERE, I tire. Some tears come for the days gone and for Izzy gone. Kids scattered and life – well its pretty hard to live some days. Esp. when managers ring me and there is nowhere to park in town and Rain is forecast on Show Day.

With the night here – I sorrow and mourn. For my sisters and my Mum and Dad and for the Grinding Poverty.


THIS is when I could speak to him and between us we would work it out. He would handle managers and debt and sadnesses. But he is gone and everyone is gone. There is no more snuggling in bed and no more shared life and I go on with the Life I have lived for so long and I don’t know how to go on.

I don’t know how to go on. I feel like vomiting from feeling sick about things.

Whoa ! What a reaction to a very nice manager but one who was going to intimidate me if he could. I feel sick because I complained about one meal. Too much to do with the straight world since I got sick. I didn’t like it young and I don’t like it now.


Its Fecking hard.

John from U.K.

I ACTUALLY DID IT. Went to the swimming pool by myself after joining over a month ago but just not been brave enough to go . After about 15 minutes of help from the lovely staff there I managed to swim again well if you can call it swimming I moved about in the water by myself for an hour so some good exercise the staff helped me out as well it is the only pool in this area that has a disabled access into the actual pool. I feel really pleased I hope soon I will be able to swim like I used to people who have not been through sepsis just dont understand losing every movement in your body and having to learn the simplest of things again this is a massive mile stone for me and all by myself without Sam or petra to help I just hope the agrophobia keeps quiet so I can go again tomorrow. One more week and it will have been a year. I hope you don’t mind me sharing this for the first time since coming home I feel positive..


Don’t force solutions.

I suppose you can guess where I spent the day – most of it – IN BED. No matter. I also had a visitor in Big J from Valla and my Girls. I also went for an after school visit at R.G. and then for a drive around. At last I caught a sunset. How I miss them here. But I got this one.

My thinking is a little muddled again and I have some bruising. Guess I am just plain getting used to it.

I don’t force solutions.

These damn tunnel periods. PLOD. PLOD. PLOD. No soaring spirits. No delight in standing outside the front door of my home. No days filled with delight.


Pretty good compared to many of the days in the past 2 1/2 years.


I am carefully choosing where I walk. Reduce the PLOD effect.  Damn near ran Clarz down on the Pony today. No PUSING , Girl. NO PUSHING.


Watch corny TV. Fiddle with photos. Chat on Facebook. Read Harry Bosch and refrain from deep thought.


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Walk in Dry Places
May 16
Trees Don’t grow to the sky

Release from a compulsion can be a dramatic experience. It maqy also mean immediate relase from vexing problems caused by the compulsion. This time can bring such a sense of well-being that it’s sometimes called the HONEYMOON or CLOUD NINE period.

In any growth process, however, we must remember that a law of diminishing returns sets in. This is expressed in the saying that trees don’t grow to the sky. At some point, we will discover that our joyous feeling of pleasure has cooled down to an ordinary state of feeling well, that we are not becoming increasingly joyous by the day.

There’s nothing wrong with such a mental plateau. If we’re practicing the Twelve Step program, we’re still moving forward, onward, and upward. Diminishing returns must still be counted as returns.

I’ll accept today’s progress with gratitude and humility. I won’t expect more than a reasonable feeling of well-being and contentment, but that is considerable.