It has been a confusing couple of weeks for me. There's so much to deal with every day. I'll not dwell on my workload or current affairs or politics or business anxieties. They mean nothing, amount to nothing, here today different tomorrow.
What moves me spiritually is what lifts and prevents me drowning in the cesspool. My dog resting her chin on her front paws as she waits for my every movement. The two grey fantails flitting about in the garden. The dead eastern spinebill I pick up from the road. The fresh blackberries I eat while claiming back sections of the farm from rampant weeds. The dead chestnut tree I'm cutting up for firewood, which succumbed to armelaria after 35 years of good health and growth. The fresh eggs from Lib's chooks. Watching bees yesterday belting the blossom on a lilly pilly hedge. The warmth and resilience of my friends who give their time at Nobelius Park as volunteers, against the odds, in defiance of the dark, powerful negative forces.
These things in this last week give me a spiritual connection to the earth and my human tribe.
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