It’s that time of year. We may have played host or experienced the graciousness of another. It’s a time of year when we connect to a Greater Being, others and self. Hope your day was filled with love and laughter.
Raised a Catholic, Communion was a sacrament received every Sunday and sometimes, more often during the week. For me, it symbolised oneness. Long after my divorce the local parish priest advised me I could return to the church, but I could not bring myself to attend Mass and not receive communion. It’s like being invited to dinner and then told you cannot join others at the table. Year later I found a priest who encouraged me to receive communion, but I would have to go to reconciliation first. The challenge for me is to find a priest who is deaf and has a strong heart! I do believe one day I will be one with my community again because receiving the host is deeply meaningful to me. The more human I become, my faith gets stronger. The return of the prodigal is inevitable. In the interim, I receive the host in other ways.
I often look at the full moon and see a host in the sky. Much like receiving one, the full moon gives me a sense of oneness. There is a certain benevolence in the luminosity, so I live in the light, even at midday.
I can recall one evening in Broome. I was there for the Pearl Festival (Shinju Matsuri). One of the iconic events is the Floating Lanterns. I’ve written about it in another post The full moon.
At that time I had been seeing someone and enjoyed many fun filled hours with him. I usually don’t tell people what I do for a living until I know them well. With him, it was easy talk for me. I felt I could be myself from the first day we met. Maybe it was me who relaxed more easily in his company and quicker than he did in mine. It felt refreshing and safe. Unlike me, he took longer to get there, and when he did, I realised I did not like what was revealed. 
We were on the beach on the night of the Floating Lanterns. It was an enchanted sepia dusk, warm and balmy. The lanterns glowed in the dark as the waves took them further away from the shore. In that beautiful moment of a moving ceremony, I experienced an epiphany. I had absolutely nothing to gain and even less to lose. I wondered how I could extradite myself from the situation. I turned my back to the ocean and started to walk back to our belongings. This is what I saw.
I knew in an instant where I was in my life. I was at one with the real me. That mattered a lot. It had taken me years. I was not prepared to compromise on anything and there was nothing worth compromising. It was liberating to walk away. An ending became a new beginning.
So here I am untethered again. My heart is no longer a host to another but the warmth of hospitality remains undiminished. When the time is right, my heart will be ready to play host again.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Despite our big feet we proved, we can still walk on water.
I went where I had lunch one afternoon. There’s a cafe to the right of this with beautiful views over water. But no, I wanted to be in the scrub! To my delight the place was teeming with birds. I know them well enough by the call.
I found a tiny male zebra finch with wisdom in his eyes.
Then there was the female finch. She flew up, caught the blade of grass in her beak and slid down, showering grass seeds on the ground. She then fed in privacy in the tall grass. Clever!
Ever watchful, high in thick scrub, were a pair of rainbow bee eaters. Aloof, silent, predatory.
The yellow honey eaters, feasted on flowers, their maniacal laughter-like call, harsh, for such a pretty bird.
With ‘lipsticked lips’ pursed tightly shut, the Pacific Gull was dignified in defeat as silver sea gulls stole lunch and flew away screeching. 
The Brahminy kite (I think), from the highest vantage point, watched all, then flew away silently.
I found a cluster of bell-like gum nuts at my feet. Although they will not bloom like other similar blossoms, their beauty is more accessible, close up. This is how it is meant to be, for some.
I look for solitary things in nature. Things that should belong together, but somehow fall away. Their beauty is undiminished, in isolation. For some, it takes effort to believe in this but when they do, the rewards are endless.
I prefer not to touch an object before I photograph it. I feel I need to respect the space where the object has come to rest. It was there for a reason. Things happen for a reason. It is something I’ve come to respect about life, too.
During this walk, I followed a trail of clover. It was a delicate wreath that wound itself around a massive rock. The dichotomy of strength and fragility, written in simple lines. And, yes, they can co-exist, each not detracting beauty from the other.
I know now, even green leaves fall away and come to rest until they disintegrate in the wind. This is their journey, not mine. The moment shared was finite. So is life.
Some are plain, beige, but sparkle best, when it rains. I’ve come to learn some people rise to their adversity, and can land softly, among rocks.
Some fade with a kaleidoscope explosion of colour. The message is clear. I was here once.
While others, are golden, among green. They signal season. A time for everything, and everything, in time.
I often despair watching children with hand held devices. Immersed in technology, they miss the world around them. So when I saw a young boy wetting a line on the beach, Pacific Seagull by his side, it made me smile. He could have been sitting in the hotel room playing video games. But he was out here at dawn, because he enjoyed the experience of what he was doing. He didn’t catch any fish. It was just the enjoyment of anticipation and being near the sea. He had a relationship with the environment. There is hope ….
I look at the ocean differently. The responsibility for keeping it pristine lies with each of us. The answer to a complex question ‘What can I do?” lies within the question. It starts with “I …”.
I look at the debris left behind by the tides each day. It’s the kind that makes me happy. Like watching a child fishing at the beach, it also makes me hopeful.
There would have been a time in my life when I have would turned tail and run, confronted. Not this morning. I felt I had the best company. The yellow throated miner bird sat still and silent. Reflective, like me.
My galleries and museums are now different. I look. Touch. Feel. Sniff. And taste the salt on my lips, and occasionally, cheeks. Yes, the galleries and museums are more interactive. I immerse myself. I don’t want to miss a moment of the experience.
These were embedded in rock. Immovable despite the power of the sea.
The tell tale signs of seagull that raided the turtle’s nest along the shore. What is food to one, is death to another. The cycle of life.
The greenest growth is at the point of pruning.
Solitary can be a powerful statement.
I no longer look for permanence. Transience is appealing to me. What ebbs and flows, like the breath of life, is a gift. We see this in tides, sometimes shells, sometimes, a forest of boab trees in the sand. 
I also know a boab tree is strong, and will wait like a friend, withstanding tide and time.
At my leisure I read sea stories of ancient times, carved in stone.
I’ve learned lessons from migratory birds in flight. And, like them, I now travel light.
Cauterised, I now watch the tide soothe ruffled edges, as the pindan cliffs bleed into the sea.
My eyes scan roadside for three eyed monsters. They help reconnect to the child in me.
A red eye, is a ruby.
A ball of ruffled vivid feathers is gorgeous, but …
A single white feather, is peace.
The tiny Bolivian yellow squirrel monkeys were a delight. 
They clung to each other, surprised by early morning humans.
Oh! look at those fingers!
Another, poised, before jump.
Because you know me best, through my imagery and words.
A Shared Space 
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