When you look for beautiful things in nature,
there is no room for compromise.
Until next time
a dawn bird
Month: February 2018
‘Billabonging’
The task for the week was a simple one but proved really difficult for me. There were no rules. Writers were given license to tell lies, break rules, make up words. They were asked to create in the moment. Instant writer’s block! So the facilitator gave us the opening line … “I leave this by your ear for when you wake …”. Using my senses, immediately centred me.
I sat with my fellow companions in silence while we took the words in, then stepped away for a few moments, at one with all around me. Far away in the outback, I wrote a poem for my children, the opening lines ….
“I leave this by your ear for when you wake,
The footfall of blue dragonflies, on a lily carpet”
I am home now. The rainbow lorikeets are in the tree, screeching. The beautiful sounds of the currawong, echoing. The flapping sounds of big winged birds as they head for the lake, above me. The musical fluted call of the Willie Wagtail, outside my window.
I hear them with my eyes closed.
A mindful moment.
And, in that moment, I see the billabong again. The lily pads.
The big winged raptors in the trees.
The jacana. Oh! what big feet for a delicate, elegant bird!
The white faced heron, silent and poised.
Yes, I’m home.
‘Billabonging’ to the sights and sounds of the Kimberley.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Today, an angel visited me
It was a tough two days. The lead up to it, even tougher.
For the first time in many years, I had an Alfie ‘what’s it all about’ moment. I could hardly wait to get to the sanctuary of home to indulge in this thought.
At the airport someone called my name. It was someone I knew many years ago. She was on her way to see her daughter who was at boarding school. “Boarding school?”, I asked incredulously.
“Yes”, she smiled. Her eyes welled up. She thanked me softly. “What you gave me is hope. She can live a normal life. You gave me courage to see this. Our paths were meant to cross”, she tells me.
Little did she know, when we said goodbye, it was a fair exchange.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Silvereye …
On a recent regional trip, I had two days of solid work. I retreated to my hotel room in the 30 minute lunch breaks, closed the curtains and shut out the world.
There was no ‘me’ time at the end of the day either. I had reports to complete and wanted to stay on target. I limped over the line with the promise of two hours in the bush in the morning before my flight home.
I went to bed restless. I could hard wait for morning. I woke at 4 am and thought it was too early for my neighbour to be having a shower, then realised, it was raining. How is this even possible! Two glorious days of sunshine and now steady rain. For a split second I felt cheated. I then remembered, small birds, like children, love puddles. By 5 am I showered and packed. I wanted to spend as long as I could in the bush, then headed out to it.
Although there is a variety of scrub, silvereye seem to prefer a small stretch of bush land in this area. And, of course, it has to be in the most awkward place, on a blind bend. On a miserable day I thought I was alone at the lake but was soon joined by two fisherman who were patient with me while I took a picture, this, of course, being country courtesy. (Can you see the small black and white bird in the scrub?)
Silvereye are tiny birds. They weigh around 10 grams. To find one feeding, oh! the joy!
I parked my car and walked to them. Soon the flock relaxed in my company. Some sitting on bare branches. This little one, still holding an insect.
One allowed me to inch closer. The puddle, just across from it, proving irresistible.
On the ground, they bunny hop. I caught this one mid-hop.
I’m pretty sure the look of surprise on my face, was just as comical.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Valentine’s day
It’s Valentine’s Day and I wanted to share this beautiful quote for you to reflect on.
“Come live in my heart and pay no rent.” Samuel Lover
It captures everything that love means to me.
Love is generosity of spirit.
Love is kind.
Love is sharing.
Love is the offer of sanctuary.
Love is accommodating.
Love is nurturing.
Love is compassionate.
Love is inviting.
Love is welcoming.
Love is healing.
Love is also the unconditional offer of one’s spirit to another.
Finally, contrary to what the ‘love’ industry promotes. You don’t need a significant other.
You can be single and still experience love.
That’s the best and most amazing part of it.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Coming of age
My fondest memory of my mother is standing by her side while she dressed for special occasions. The space between her and myself, is where I came of age.
My mother’s dresser had three large mirrors so she could view her profile. She never walked away from it until she was satisfied. A light touch of make up, jewellery, (always real jewellery), her hair a low chignon. Her back was straight, her shoulders relaxed. A light spray of perfume. She was ready for the world. With one final look, she would say with conviction, “make-up should enhance, not detract”. I would watch her walk out the door in awe.
The message of my mother’s lecture still makes sense.
Would a plain cockatoo look as spectacular?
Until next time,
As always,
a dawn bird
A Memory, the gift left behind
I dislike shopping. I find wandering around shops to buy a gift, is a chore. It brings out the judgemental critic in me! Why are people buying all that mass produced cr*p!
There are some gifts I love to give, and receive. I remember one of those gifts today, because he gave me, the sea.
Then there are others, the ones I find when I rummage through memory. Precious fragments. Time has not destroyed the tangibility.
I recall several years ago he was offered a job that took him across to the other side of the world. I drove 400 km one weekend to meet him for breakfast by the sea. After breakfast, with the surf drowning our voices, I gave him a huge box in the car park. He held it in his hands watching the wind toss the big, red satin bow from one side to the other. He was overcome with emotion and said, “No one’s done this for me before”. I urged him to open it, eager for him to see what I had seen three weeks earlier.
Sitting atop a high shelf in a gift shop was a teddy bear with intense, brown eyes. I carefully set aside every other bear to reach him. When I turned around I found the shopkeeper watching me with some annoyance. I laughed apologetically and said, “I’m sorry, but I think the bear chose me”.
I took the bear home and hand made wool trousers in herringbone, bought a ‘premmie’ sized shirt and knitted a tiny, thin black tie with bamboo skewers (oh! the pain!). I bought a tiny diamond stud for his ear. The bear became a replica of my friend, as he was when he was interviewed for the job.
My friend opened the box. He was speechless. He placed the box down. He hugged me for the longest time. Eighteen months later he was killed in an accident. He was 43.
A week later I phoned his sister. We talked for hours despite it being our first conversation. I shared with her my friendship with her brother, and our passion for writing. The 4 am coffees. The arguments over the choice of words. Toblerone left on the table silently, in a gesture of peace. Red carnations on the doorstep when I wasn’t home.
Then I told her about the gift I gave him and the process that led up to it.
His sister started to cry. She told me I had not bought the gift for him, but for her. It was her source of comfort during a period of immeasurable grief.
We were both living in different Hemispheres. She was holding the bear when I phoned.
I’m more convinced today than yesterday … give from your heart and not your wallet.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Wings
Unfurl!
I insist!
Be free!
dawnbird
Monks, do it …
Simplify! The buzz word of modern living. Declutter! Organize! Oh! the irony! One cannot “simplify” it would seem, without action.
For me, simplify is doing what monks do. There is enough science behind the philosophy not to practice it for health and well-being.
Every day I seek a solitary, still moment. It centres me. It fits in with my faith belief. I am in a chapel, a church, a sacred place, when I’m out with nothing but camera for company.
Photography has a seductive power. It can zoom in and fade all else out of sight. There is an intimacy inherent in that moment, when nothing else, absolutely nothing else, is important. Just subject and me. Yes, I have found a way to simplify my life.
I take roads less travelled.
I seek illumination in trees.
I find life where there should be none.
And find a blade of grass, is worth my scrutiny.
Until next time
As always,
a dawn bird
Bewildered
It is early morning. There is no one in the Lair. Well, maybe not!
Breathe in. Breathe out. My senses now acute.
There is someone having breakfast above me. I move my lens away from the remnants cast aside carelessly.
On the other side, the rhythmic thump on dry leaves tells me there’s a grey kangaroo in there. Somewhere.
I close my eyes. I hear the sea in the Marri tree tops. This, in deep Wheatbelt country.
The tops are crowned with flowers, with some blossoms hanging low, like fruit of the vine.
And, that’s when I saw her. She looked bewildered at my presence.
But not as bewildered as me, to find a shiny bauble in this bush country.
Until next time,
As always,
a dawn bird
Lessons from a seagull
One of my all time favourite books is Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach. Bach achieved the impossible. He gave humans wings.
The book changed my perspective and, importantly, helped me understand the trajectory of my life. I return to the book repeatedly, every time finding deeper meaning than before. Oh! the power of words!
“Don’t believe what your eyes are telling you. All they show is limitation. Look with your understanding. Find out what you already know and you will see the way to fly.”
Yes, Bach gave me wings.
I know where there is water, there are seagulls. So I seek them. Some may regard seagulls as pests. Vermin, even. Not me!
I started photographing seagulls some years ago and realised they were a perfect subject for mindfulness. I saw them for what they were in the moment.
Calm.
Focused.
Joyful.
Photobombers!
Indifferent.
Brave.
Seagulls have taught me to sit with the thought. Sit with the emotion. Try and understand. The operative word is, understand.
Understanding has many layers and one does not have to dig deep to strike the mother lode of facts. When you do, beyond what the eye sees are incidental gains, important ones, of compassion, humility, wisdom. But one has to first learn how to dig, trawl, and then sift. (Any postgraduate student will attest to this).
I’ve learned when travelling along ‘information highways’, and when seated in coffee shops too, ‘clicking’, ‘chatting’, snippets of benign conversation may give information. It is easy for people to ‘analyze’ it, consider it out of context and then spout their unsolicited ‘expertise’ as fact, worse still, knowledge. It is like someone calling themselves an artist, after completing a connect-the-dots exercise.
There is nothing more frustrating than talking to someone who knows it all. If you have raised teens, this will resonate with you! But despite the angst (of parent and child), it is a critical time of social development. It can be navigated carefully. My father did this successfully.
I recall my father saying, “Be careful of people who know it all. They have a closed mind.” To some this may seem a paradox. It did to me. It also made me stop and think.
My father knew me well. Always a learner, a closed mind to me was death.
So I continue learning, a willing student, available and accessible, receptive to all teachers. Seagulls, too.
This. Is. Living.
Now I must fly.
Until next time,
As always,
a dawn bird
Posedion, god of the sea
At sunset, I parked my car and walked towards the ocean. A gust of wind lifted the sail.
Breathtaking!
He steadied himself, then walked down the stairs. His dreadlocks streaming behind him, like kelp.
The wind was strong. It was what he wanted. Encased, his muscles quivered with anticipation.
He faced the ocean. This, Poseidon.
Without a backward glance, he let the waves take him away.
I stood alone. The wind wailed with me.
In his element, no longer of land, he became a creature of the sea.
Until next time,
As always,
a dawn bird
Red Finches
Over the years I’ve managed to develop my own work-life balance. I’ve reached a stage of contentment in what I do and how I live. My children say, they have never heard me complain about working. I don’t believe I’ve ever complained to anyone else. Why would I? Every work trip is an adventure. Yet, some people feel the need to “sympathize” with me.
You see, my camera has opened a new world where I always find joy in the old and new. If it’s raining, I look for rainbows. When it is overcast with storm clouds, I know sunrise/sunset is going to be magnificent. In rain, I find diamonds. It’s a new twist to the old saying, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
Some memorable moments are more vivid than others, like those spent with red finches in Kununurra, in the far north of Western Australia. These are my observations.
Red finches seem to be listening to music all the time. They hop and skip and bop their way on the ground. In the air, they dive dance.
They are almost always in a flock or at least a pair or two. I’ve watched them for hours and have never observed conflict. They seem to know, there is plenty of food for all.
They go about their life, without a backward glance at raptors. They live mindfully, in the here and now.
They are curious about the new.
Stop long enough to look at the world around them.
They are relaxed, and focused, when they observe.
And, yes, these energetic, beautiful little birds do take time to rest.
Red finches are joyful creatures. Their values are uncomplicated. Food. Freedom. Community.
Flanked by the major highway and the banks of the beautiful Lily Creek Lagoon, these red finches live an idyllic life, as it was intended.
I do, too.
Until next time
As always,
a dawn bird
Cat, with attitude
This is Killian.
Aptly named, one of the meanings of the name is fierce. No pouting mouth. No sideways glance. He knows there is no such thing as his better side. Nor is there, a better angle. He stares a camera down.
With apologies to cat lovers, I’m not one of them. Killian does not belong to me. Nor does he belong to my son and his fiancee. They belong to him.
My son’s fiancee loves animals. Soon my son discovered he loves their two cats.
Then Killian joined them as a house guest while his owner was away for a few days. When he returned, Killian decided he had found a new home.
That was two years ago.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
The Galah!
Then she leaned in, eyes closed.
Puzzled by her overture.
He froze.
His eyes widened.
The galah!
Galah is a cockatoo commonly found in open spaces in Australia.
The word galah is also used as slang in Australia (endearment or derogatory) to describe a fool or idiot.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
A Shared Space 
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