Walking Quiet Ways No. 3 Central Coast by Colleen Keating

Early Tentative Steps out of Lockdown

Dolphin House to Long Jetty 

Set out before lunch to walk to Long Jetty and meet Michael  for a picnic lunch.

The day was a stunning blue winters day with some gorgeous fluffy happy clouds bouncing around and giving wonderful ware reflections  as you will see in some of the photos. . I walked along the beach till it became the lake, under the bridge, past the old boat shed, along the path of huge Norfolf pines where the cormorants nest,  along past The Lake House around the bend to the south side of Tuggerah Lake. I met a couple looking very concerned taking photos of fishing lines and tackle caught up in the pines. I firstly smiled thinking of the frustration of your line getting caught like when a kite gets caught  and then herd the story of how ignorant  The Pelicans were standing there confused as picnickers were taking their place everywhere .

Only a few days back the birds had the place to themselves.

I walked along the edge of the lake enjoying the  glass waters reflection of the fluffy clouds  and as usual i enjoyed the birds   the pelicans , ibis, two gorgeous black swans

a wonderful reflection of a large white egret feeding amonst the reeds, a couple of masked lapwings or plovers as we call them

 

I kept walking past the jetty as it was a bit busy and not enough room for social distancing and found a perfect spot a little further on. Michael and I met with the app ‘ Find a friend ‘ very modern of us haha . He pulled up where i had found a view and a table and was writing and he arrived with thermos for tea and coffee and a picnic lunch.

We actually drove on after that to look at heaters and a back up charger. We bought unsuccessfully as the heater doesn’t blow out air and the charger doesn’t fit,  so Monday a return day. and we might do the same walk and picnic lunch .

Just want to add some photos that I took on our return a few hours later. Here the sunsetting over the lake  is breathtaking.

 

 

The Blue Dot by Colleen Keating

 

It is time  we look closely at the blue dot            (29th May  2020)

it’s easy to forget we are one tiny planet
spinning in space with one cosmic destiny

we fragment our fragile home into warring factions
today a race war in Minnesota
a power play in Hong Kong 
a terrorist attack in the middle East
Brexit breakdown in Great Britain
pointing the finger blaming others

we too easily drift daily into divides
and at the same time a virus
so tiny it is invisible
attacks our world
our health and economy in lockdown
people hiding in panic and fear

no wall    partition   rampart or barricade
no shield  barbwire  even an electric fence
can save us 

no gun   rifle   cannon or even a nuclear bomb
no armour  submarine or  super jet 
no armour-plated  bullet proof   bomb protected artillery  
can save us    

are we blind to the photographs
like that of Earthrise taken in 1968 from the Voyager 1

are we deaf to Carl Sagen’s words spoken
after seeing earth from Apollo 8 in 1990
warning us to cherish this pale blue dot – our earth
a dust mote suspended in a sunbeam – the only home we have!

This virus called covid-19 has us in its grip
but even now the ruling class look away
our earth is sick it needs healing
the fault lines of poverty inequality<
can be turned around
giving everyone a voice
a share in the abundance
mother earth gives over and over without complaint
until she collapses under the weight of injustice
her waters shrivel
she becomes unwell
splutters with drought   fire    famine

it is time for all of us to wake
rise up
be the light
for the fear and dark of minds
ask what comes now
what comes next
imagine a new future
walk forwards
hand in hand

( There is a dot like a pixel half way down the orange light. That is the earth)

 

The Earth, our planet is a lonely speck in the great developing cosmic dark. 

In all this vastness there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The earth as far as we know,  is the only world to harbour life.

There is no where else in which our species can migrate -visit maybe, yes. Settle, no. Not yet.

Like it or not, the earth is where we make our stand.

Our folly of killing one another , of building walls and our posturing of, we’ll decide who come’s here and under what circumstance they come”    (think fires drought pandemic)!

The pre-posturing that goes on

we’ll keep you safe
we’ve stopped the boats
we are hard on border patrol.
We promise you jobs jobs and more jobs and to keep you safe . We have bought big orange rubber boats to get out there and turn refugees back to the poverty they come from . We take no responsibility for humanity. 

 The delusion we have of some privileged position in the world or even in the universe is challenged by the distant image of our world . We can only be humbled  at the photos .

Now it is time to  find our responsibility to care for our one precious earth and our people in all their colours cultures and codes  cherish this pale blue dot  “a dust mote suspended in a sunbeam -“the only home we have “ Carl Sagan. 

Photos from NASA inspired by Brain Pickings . Thankyou Maria Popova

 The Plan Blue Dot captured from 3.7 billion miles away Earth appears    as a tiny dot half way halfway down the orange stripe on the right. 

The little dot is about two to three pixels  big  so not very large. When you get the grander of the scenes  i get chills down my back because there here is our planet, bathed in this ray of light and it just looks incredible special. 

EarthBlue Dot photo taken from Voyager 1 Spacecraft 1990

Earthrise photo taken from Apollo 8 24th December 1968.

I found this photo which is clearer to find the blue dot

 

 

The Blue Dot is  half way along the right orange stripe.  Amazing that is us .

Read Carl Sagans  on The Blue Dot

From this distant vantage point,
the Earth might not seem of any particular interest.
But for us, it’s different.
Consider again that dot.
That’s here. That’s home. That’s us.
On it everyone you love, everyone you know,
everyone you ever heard of,
every human being who ever was,
lived out their lives.
The aggregate of our joy and suffering,
thousands of confident religions,
ideologies, and economic doctrines,
every hunter and forager,
every hero and coward,
every creator and destroyer of civilization,
every king and peasant,<
every young couple in love,
every mother and father, hopeful child,
inventor and explorer,
every teacher of morals,
every corrupt politician,
every ‘superstar,’ every ‘supreme leader,’
every saint and sinner in the history of our species
on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

And Mayo Angelou on The Blue Dot

A BRAVE AND STARTLING TRUTH

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet

Traveling through casual space

Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns

To a destination where all signs tell us

It is possible and imperative that we learn

A brave and startling truth

And when we come to it

To the day of peacemaking

When we release our fingers

From fists of hostility

And allow the pure air to cool our palms

When we come to it

When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate

And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean

When battlefields and coliseum

No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters

Up with the bruised and bloody grass

To lie in identical plots in foreign soil

When the rapacious storming of the churches

The screaming racket in the temples have ceased

When the pennants are waving gaily

When the banners of the world tremble

Stoutly in the good, clean breeze

When we come to it

When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders

And children dress their dolls in flags of truce

When land mines of death have been removed

And the aged can walk into evenings of peace

When religious ritual is not perfumed

By the incense of burning flesh

And childhood dreams are not kicked awake

By nightmares of abuse

When we come to it

Then we will confess that not the Pyramids

With their stones set in mysterious perfection

Nor the Gardens of Babylon

Hanging as eternal beauty

In our collective memory

Not the Grand Canyon

Kindled into delicious color

By Western sunsets

Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe

Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji

Stretching to the Rising Sun

Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,

Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores

These are not the only wonders of the world

When we come to it

We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe

Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger

Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace

We, this people on this mote of matter

In whose mouths abide cankerous words

Which challenge our very existence

Yet out of those same mouths

Come songs of such exquisite sweetness

That the heart falters in its labor

And the body is quieted into awe

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet

Whose hands can strike with such abandon

That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living

Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness

That the haughty neck is happy to bow

And the proud back is glad to bend

Out of such chaos, of such contradiction

We learn that we are neither devils nor divines

When we come to it

We, this people, on this wayward, floating body

Created on this earth, of this earth

Have the power to fashion for this earth

A climate where every man and every woman

Can live freely without sanctimonious piety

Without crippling fear

When we come to it

We must confess that we are the possible

We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world

That is when, and only when

We come to it.

I Protest! Poems of Dissent selected by Stephen Matthews

 

So exciting to receive in the mail our complimentary copies of Ginninderra Press’ new Anthology.

I Protest! Poems of Dissent. 

Congratulations to Stephen Matthews on a superb publication  and so timely.

Both Michael and I are  very proud to each have a poem   chosen for the Anthology.

Michael’s poem is called Disconnect  and is a poem about the precious commodity we have
in water which has its own fragility and he writes how we can be lulled into forgetfulness
‘The fragility of our country  and the worry about the aquifers’

My poem rock-a bye-baby  speaks of the earth is in pain and yet how easy we can be lulled into sleep, into silence.

I  like to think I end hopefully
‘like green shoots from black stumps
will rise   poems of possibility’

There is 20% off all books at Ginninderra Press till the end May.

 

Silver Nautilus Award for Hildegard of Bingen: A poetic journey

 

 

Congratulations to Ginninderra Press. Excited to announce Hildegard of Bingen: A poetic journey  by Colleen Keating has received a Silver Nautilus Award: Better Books for a Better World.  Hildegard of Bingen was published late last year and launched in November.

 

Nautilus Award 

 

Nautilus Book Awards recognizes and rewards books that celebrate and contribute to positive social change, spiritual growth and conscious living. Its winners have included the likes of the Dalai Lama, Thich Nhat Hanh, and Marion Williamson. It’s truly an honour to be a part of this award-winning community of writers. I have always loved the idea of the Nautilus shell with its Fibonacci pattern and am thrilled to have this award.

 

Congratulations!  You are a Winner in the 2019 Nautilus Book Awards program!

Your book has been selected as an Award Winner in the category shown below.

Title:    Hildegard of Bingen: A Poetic Journey     

Author:   Colleen Keating  

>  taichi@bigpond.net.au

Publisher:   Ginninderra Press   

Contact name & email:   Stephen Matthews

>  stephen@ginninderrapress.com.au

Award:      SILVER 

Category:  Lyric Prose  

We heartily welcome you to the Nautilus Book Awards family, comprised of highly esteemed authors and publishers from across the USA, and from over 20 nations around the world. You can be especially proud of your book’s selection as an Award Winner this season, which attracted a record-number of entries and included a magnificent diversity of high-quality books.

We are grateful for the chance to help promote and celebrate your book by increasing its visibility as a Nautilus Award Winner. And, we are truly encouraged by the new perspectives these books present with which to co-create a better future, individually and collectively. Changing the World one Book at a Time.

LYRIC PROSE

Hildegard of Bingen: A Poetic Journey
Colleen Keating
Ginninderra Press

We have developed our judging process over the past twenty years, and continue to expand and improve our parameters and our system of evaluation. It is our purpose and intent to seek, review, identify, and celebrate books that we feel best support the co-creation of a Better World.  Our goal is to offer life-affirming options with imagination and possibility to a world that longs for a new story.

Gold and Silver Awards, and one Grand Winner Award are given to print books of exceptional merit that make a literary and heartfelt contribution to spiritual growth, green values & sustainability, high-level wellness, responsible leadership and positive social change & social justice, as well as to the worlds of art, creativity and inspiration.

 

‘The Earth is our mother ‘ Hildegard reminded us 870 years ago

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Hildegard of Bingen envisioned a time when human activities would harm our Mother Earth. “The earth sustains humanity,” she wrote. “It must not be injured; it must not be destroyed.”

Hildegard further writes,  “The earth is the Mother of all, for contained in her are the seeds of all.” She recognised and revered the notion that we are one with everything in our living, breathing, glorious universe.

Reading Hildegard of Bingen: A poetic journey,  at this time is highly recommended as a foil for fear and anxiety at this time of crisis and as very relevant today for Earth Day after the devastation our earth has suffered. 

 

Hildegard of Bingen is called the founder of the environmental movement.  She is an early eco-warrior aware of the need to care for the earth and for how it gives us all we need.

Hildegard spoke of how we are one and part  with the earth how we are interconnected and interdependent on each other.

Earth Day is slipping past this 2020 with all the concern on covid -19 and with the call for physical distancing meaning it is not possible for much promotion. 

Hildegard von Bingen  lived in the 12th century, during a time when there was no inkling of the devastation, destruction and pollution that humans would wreak on our planet. She cherished the natural world around her. She lived in a veritable garden of Eden, surrounded by verdant forests, fertile river valleys, and the clear running waters of the Rhine, Nahe, and Glan rivers.

Finally a beautiful poem by Hildegard:

     I am the one whose praise echoes on high.

     I adorn all the earth.

     I am the breeze that nurtures all things green.

     I encourage blossoms to flourish with ripening fruits.

     I am led by the spirit to feed the purest streams.

     I am the rain coming from the dew.

     That causes the grasses to laugh with the joy of life.

     I call forth tears, the aroma of holy work.

     I am the yearning for good.

taken from a wonderful website  set up by Sarah Riehm a devotee of Hildegard or one of our family of Hildegardians who speaks of and about Hildegard with a  gentle mixture of very scholarly research and with a voice  of Hildegard accessible for us in the 21st century.  . .how I like to think Hildegard would be writing and speaking for us today

In  Hildegard of Bingen: A poetic journey I have Hildegard saying these words at different times including in the poem Viriditas. But it is beautiful to see it as a poem by Hildegard.

Sarah Riehm, Curator

sarah@livinghildegard.com

www.livinghildegard.com

 

go

Easter Sunday 2020

Easter 2020

 

There is Alleluia in this morning in our heroes.
Easter is in them as they rise to bring, save, comfort, give life in our world.
From cleaners to the top scientists, from shop assistants to nurses and doctors those on the front line and first responders. May we all give them honour and gratitude .For us in our compassionate retreat we can only be grateful.

“Nature does not hurry yet everything is accomplished” . She has suffered painfully this summer . Now she has a little breather to find herself again.

Here is a dawn photo this morning from the terrace  in our time of self isolating which we are terming our compassionate retreat. The second photo a tree atching the Easter sunrise before we received it. Love the gold the first gift of morn.

Easter Morning 2020

Kookaburras wake us singing.
Dawn.
The sun is rising.
An amazing expanse of pink sky.
Magpies are warbling again in the nearby tree ( all summer in smoke-choked air they didn’t sing )
The moon in her silver shoon
journeys west in quiet stillness.
The birds are singing more than ever.

The sweet scent of the lemon balm Eucalypt
and the newly budgeoning buds of the sasanquas fill the air.
All our families are safe at home, some camping in their backyards, some doing Easter bunny hunts in their own gardens.
No hectic trips to church .
No frantic last minute shopping for celebratory functions.
No one has been in traffic jams.
No one is racing heither and thiether to keep important dates or to take the planned Easter holiday.
And not a plane in the sky.
The air is crisp and fresh.

Easter 2020
when we all stayed home
in compassionate retreat

Practiced physical distancing
Not social distancing for Facetime and Zoom are a miracle of social communication . It is physical distancing we face daily which of course for grandparents who love being with their grandchildren is extremely painful.
I am a poet in residence . Normally you would pay a fortune to have that experince .

View from a hospital bed window: A story for our time

Some of you will remember the story, View from a hospital bed window.
While writing the poem about looking out my window
this story came back to my mind. I am surprised how it speaks to us
today in our time of self-isolation –
and how important it is for us to carry hope in the pocket of our heart
when looking out the window on our world.

Here again is that story I have adapted to verse.

.View from a hospital bed window.  (Anon)

Two men, both seriously ill,
occupied the same hospital room.
One man could sit up in his bed
which was next to the room’s only window.
The other man had to spend all his time
flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end.
They spoke of their wives and families,
their homes, their jobs.

Every afternoon,
when the man in the bed by the window
would sit up, he’d describe to his roommate
what he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those times
when his world would be broadened, enlivened
by all the activity and colour of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake
Ducks and swans played on the water.
Children sailed their model boats.
Young lovers walked arm in arm
amidst flowers of every colour
A fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this exquisite detail,
the man on the other side of the room
would close his eyes
and imagine this picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon, the man by the window
described a parade passing by.

Although the other man could not hear the band
he could see it in his mind’s eye as the man described it.

Days, weeks and months passed.
One morning, the day nurse arrived
to find the lifeless body of the man by the window.
He had died peacefully in his sleep.
She was saddened, called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate,
the other man asked if he could be moved
next to the window.
The nurse was happy to make the switch,
and after making sure he was comfortable,
she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow
to take his first look at the real world outside.
He strained to slowly turn to look.
He faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse
what could have compelled his deceased roommate
who had described such wonderful things outside this window.

The nurse responded that the man was blind.
He could not even see the wall.
She said, “Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.”

Another voice that speaks for us today is Cavafy.  In his famous  life journey poem Ithaka (see below) he says,
we only encounter what we bring along inside our soul.
We only see see what our soul sets up in front of us.  

Ithaka

by  C.P. Cavafy

trans. Edmund Keeley

As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbours you’re seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind—
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you’re destined for.
But don’t hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you’re old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvellous journey.
Without her you wouldn’t have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you’ll have understood by then what these Ithaka mean.

 

In her poem Son of Mine Oodgeroo Noonuccal  (see below)

says in all the pain and suffering she carried she wanted to tell only of the good , the brave and the fine.Words have the power to  plants seed in souls over and over to grow the good, the brave and the fine.

Son of Mine by Oodgeroo Noonuccal

My son, your troubled eyes search mine,
Puzzled and hurt by colour line.
Your black skin as soft as velvet shine;
What can I tell you, son of mine?

I could tell you of heartbreak, hatred blind,
I could tell you of crimes that shame mankind,
Of brutal wrong and deeds malign,
Of rape and murder, son of mine;

But I’ll tell you instead of brave and fine
When lives of black and white entwine,
And men in brotherhood combine- 
This would I tell you, son of mine. 

Frederick for Winter-time – a fable

Frederick for a Winter time.

 

Some of you might know the story of Frederick
the field mouse accused of sitting about
day-dreaming, watching and listening
not sharing the tasks of preparing for winter
while his family filled every minute
hurried here and there to busy themselves
storing berries and nuts
for the long season they would bear

and how Frederick garnered
the warmth of the sun the wind in the air
for winter is so freezingly cold, stale and bare
and how he saved the colours of the day
for winters can be so long, so drab and grey
and how he gathered words that uplift the spirit

and how in the stark days of winter
most of the food had been eaten
and gossip and all the funny stories
had become threadbare
and they anxiously turned to Frederick
for sustenance
during the last cruel days before spring

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

so Frederick asked them to close their eyes
and with his words his voice his magic
from stirrings deep within
they felt warmth the air scented
with their treasured aromas
and they saw the colours of flowers and trees
rainbows and flying birds
enduring brush strokes on their mind

and how when Frederick had finished
they all applauded –

but Frederick
they exclaimed
you are a poet

Frederick blushed, took a bow, and said shyly, ‘I know it’.

 

 

And for those of you still reading here is the story translated fom the fable.

Frederick    by Leo Lionni

 

All along the meadow 

where the cows grazed and the horses ran, 

there was an old stone wall.

In that wall

not far from the barn and the granary, 

a chatty family of field mice

had their home.

But the farmers had moved away,

the barn was abandoned,

and the granny stood empty.

And since winter was not far off,

the little mice began to gather corn and nuts 

and wheat and straw. 

They all worked day and night .

All – except Frederick. 

Frederick, why don’t you work?  they asked

I do work, said Frederick,

I gather sun rays 

for the old dark winter days.

And when they saw Frederick sitting there, 

staring at the meadow 

they said,  and now Frederick?

I gather colours, answered Frederick simply.

For winter is grey.

And once Frederick seemed half asleep,

Are you day-dreaming Frederick? 

They asked reproachfully. But Frederick said, 

Oh no I am gathering words 

for the winter days are long and many

and we’ll run out of things to say?.

The winter days came, 

and when the first snow fell

the five little field mice 

took to their hideout in the stones.

In the beginning there was lots to eat,

and the mice told stories 

of foolish foxes and silly cats.

They were a happy family.

But little by little they had nibbled up 

most of the nuts and berries,

 the straw was gone 

and the corn was only a memory.

It was cold in the wall 

and no one felt like chatting.

Then they remembered

what Frederick had said 

about sun rays and colours and words.

What about your supplies Frederick ! they asked 

Close your eyes, said Frederick,

as he climbed on a big stone,

Now I send you the rays of the sun

Do you feel their golden glow?

And as Frederick spoke of the sun

the four little mice 

began to feel warmer.

Was it Frederick’s voice ? Was it magic?

And how about the colours Frederick?

they asked anxiously ,

Close your eyes again, Frederick said,

And then he told them 

of the blue periwinkles

the red poppies

in the yellow wheat 

and the green leaves of the berry bush.

They saw the colours as clearly 

as if they had been painted in their minds 

And the words Frederick?

Frederick cleared his throat,

waited a moment,

and then, as if from a stage, he said: 

Who scatters snowflakes? who melts the ice? 

Who spoils the weather? Who makes it nice? 

Who grows the four-leaf clovers in June? 

dims the daylight? Who lights the moon?

Four little field mice who live in the sky

Four little field mice . . like you and I. 

One is the Springmouse  who turns on the showers

Then comes the Summer who paints in the flowers

The Fallmouse is next with walnuts and wheat 

And Winter is last . . . with little cold feet.

Aren’t we lucky the seasons are four 

Think of a year with one less . . or one more

When Frederick had finished,

they all applauded.

                       But Frederick,

                                     they said

                                                  you are a poet. 

Frederick blushed, took a bow, and said shyly, ‘I know it’ 

 

 

 

 

Below is Thomas our young poet, this spring, March  2020 (Northern Hemisphere)

sitting in his cherry tree  in his own yard, reading Frederick. So proud of him.

 

Hildegard’s Encouragement in a time of a Pandemic

 

 

Hildegard always encouraged:

Live simply

Live in the moment

Live in beauty

Her way of healing, –  individuals, groups, the world is going to the cause of the problem and working towards  healing the cause, compared with today’s medical model of treating only the symptoms not working towards the healing the problem.

This is like putting a blanket on a fire to smother the symptoms with out putting out the actually spark of fire.

The golden guidelines from Hildegard:

  1. Viriditas   literally “greenness,” a word meaning vitality, fecundity, lushness, verdure, or growth. For us today in isolation and social distancing draw energy from nature’s life force.

This can be found by sitting in a park or observing a tree or listening to the birds. one friend took 53 photos from her window and it was fulll of colour and movement. Just be present to what you see. and the delight of nature is there for you.

  1. Healthy and balanced nutrition found from food’s healing powers

     3   Regenerate strained nerves with healthy sleep, exercise and good food.

4.   Find a harmonious balance in your day. Make a routine – stretching,   walking,  drinking plenty of water,  doing what ever activity possible.

    5       Be vigilant . Wipe down delivered shopping.  Wash fruit and vegetables.  

    6    When stress arises:         

(a) name it, face it 

(b) accept it

(c) flow along/float 

(d) Let time pass

(e) Remember no feeling is final

(adapted from Healthy Hildegard.)

 

Hildegard always writes and speaks about the interconnectivity  of all things

we are interrelated and interdependent on all things and it is only when we bow down to that and become stewarts of our earth will we be healed.  Thank you Hildegard.

Getting fresh air while self isolating and social distancing

 

Bush for us to walk in and experience a world away from the world

From our home over the highway which is taken by a overpass we walked down the road into a fragment of Australian bush  and Wahroonga Creek. So revitalising and refreshing in this world away from the world.There is still a lot of track we have to discover but today we just wandered along on the high track overlooking the creek and listening to the song of the water falling and running along as  a small creek.