― Hermann Hesse, Gertrude
Ten Grey hairs and a silver one
I discovered my first grey hair
when I was Seventeen years old
It had to do with breaking up my first relationship
I discovered my second grey hair
when I was Twenty years old
It had to do with the quarrels at home
I discovered my third grey hair
when I was Twenty-one years old
It had to do with searching for work
I discovered my fourth grey hair
when I was Twenty-three years old
It had to do with losing my job
I discovered my fifth grey hair
when I was Twenty-five years old
It had to do with giving up my unborn child
I discovered my sixth grey hair
When I was Twenty-eight years old
It had to do with opening my pub
I discovered my seventh grey hair
When I was thirty years old
It had to do with giving birth to my daughter
I discovered my eighth grey hair
When I was thirty –two years old
It had to do with the first day at the kinder garden school
I discovered my ninth grey hair
When I was thirty-four years old
It had to do with finding out that some thing was missing
I discovered my tenth grey hair
When I was thirty-five years old
It had to do with the fights between my sisters and mum
My one Silver hair I discovered lately
Has to do with you
Because I miss you so hard …
FRUIT IN SEASON 3: IN AUTUMN I TAKE UP MY KNIFE
The view from the kitchen sink takes in the garden,
the fence, the tall trees in the valley, the children shouting
and crying, the feijoa tree, shedding its fruit,
like large green tears, or bullets big as a human heart.
Each swipe of the dish-sponge is anger or regret,
choices have consequences, consequences constrict
to the tightness of skin on a fruit, this feijoa
I slice into, savagely, and stop. Pineapple-scented.
The soft, fragrant jelly within.
© 2009, Miriam Wei Wei Lo
A sannyasin will have a certain fragrance, a certain style, a certain way which is subtle; it may not be very apparent to the eyes, but it can be detected. I would like you to be known as separate from the crowds, not by your clothes not by anything outer, but just by your very being — your silence, your peace, your love, your eyes. Every gesture of you should declare that you are a sannyasin.
foto – parramatta road sydney camperdown way
Give freedom to the bards ! They are children of a bygone time. Their voices shall be heard on high, when ours have fallen to the ground.
foto – listening to heart tribe at bello markets june 2010
Cha deinee rieau yn soogh y shang.
"The greedy will never feel for the hungry."
FOTO-THE MOB’S DINNER AT BILAMBIL
The intelligent son gathereth in summer (in his youth); but the shameful son sleepeth still in harvest.
FOTO – Ulmarra backyard
LABOUR NOT TO BE RICH.
Chinese Novels: Translated from the Originals; to which are Added Proverbs …"
As the scream of the eagle is heard when she has passed over; so a man’s name remains after his death.
R.I.P. ACTOR BILL. DROWNED PALM BEACH QLD. 2009.
I used to hang out by the food table at PARTIES because you don’t have to talk to anybody. If you do then you can talk about the food. Jennifer Jason Leigh.
FOTO – BIRTHDAY PARTY AT KINGSCLIFF CREEK
Extract from the Song Cycle of the Moon Bone
The Evening Star goes down across the camp, among the white gum trees …
Far away, in these places near Milingimbi
Goes down among the Ngurulwulu people, towards the camp and the gum trees,
At the place of the Crocodiles, and of the Evening Star, away towards Milingimbi …
The Evening Star is going down, the Lotus Flower is on its stalk …
Going down among all those western clans …
It brushes the heads of the uncircumcised people …
Sinking down in the sky, that Evening Star, the Lotus …
Shining down on the foreheads of all those Sandfly people …
It sinks there into the place of the white gum trees, at Milingimbi.
Sung by the Wonguri-Mandjigai people, translated by Ronald M. Bernd
FOTO – BRISBANE BOTANICAL GARDENS. LOTUS GARDEN 2007
To wish to act like angels while we are still in this world is nothing but folly.
Saint Theresa of Avila
Nothing is thought rare
Which is not new, and follow’d; yet we know
That what was worn some twenty years ago
Comes into grace again.
Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher,
Prologue to the Noble Gentleman (l. 4)
Sorrow is a fruit. God does not make it grow on limbs too weak to bear it.
FOTO – SUMMER FRUIT IN BILAMBIL INCLUDING A PLUOT.
I can remember walking as a child. It was not customary to say you were fatigued. It was customary to complete the goal of the expedition.
FOTO – MORRIS STREET PADDINGTON BRISBANE 2007
SEVEN MYSTERIOUS SONGS VI
Mountains, valleys, rivers merge
The land hides itself
The day’s form buried in my eye
like a grandmother in her coffin
FOTO – BILAMBIL VALLEY 2009
Roads are wet where’er one wendeth,
And with rain the thistle bendeth,
And the brook cries like a child!
Not a rainbow shines to cheer us;
Ah! the sun comes never near us,
And the heavens look dark and wile.
Mary Howitt, The Wet Summer, from the German
FOTO – KALANG 2008
“And the fool builds again while he grumbles,
And the wise one laughs, building again.”
Part V: Ex Fumo Dare Lucem
ADAM LINDSAY GORDON.
FOTO – GABI BLISS AT BUDDHA BELLY CAFE UKI.
Thank God I have the seeing eye, that is to say, as I lie in bed I can walk step by step on the fells and rough land seeing every stone and flower and patch of bog and cotton pass where my old legs will never take me again. Beatrix Potter.
FOTO – FROM BILAMBIL NEAR TERRANORA RESORT LOOKING SOUTH
The hero is the one who kindles a great light in the world, who sets up blazing torches in the dark streets of life for men to see by. The saint is the man who walks through the dark paths of the world, himself a light. Felix Adler
FOTO – BILAMBIL COTTAGE 2007
The way of cultivation is not easy. He who plants a garden plants happiness.