terrifying birdman

On past Coonamble to a small town called Quambone and our decision to drive back roads through the Macquarie Marshes on a wet and slippery day. Five minutes out of Quambone, into the rainy landscape, we happened upon some broken down bird-watchers. Well, their car was broken down.

After offering to carry one of them (Bob) thirty kms or so along the road to their camp and second vehicle, Vanessa squished into the backseat with our ludicrous load of luggage and I took off at a rate of knots. For some reason I had it in my head that we needed to hurry.

But of course it was raining. And soon the sandy soil turned black.

"It's the trecherous, splippery black soils that make driving so difficult," stated Bob the birdman after the distraction of a frenzy of bird indentifications (in which Vanessa eagerly joined I might add). His hand wrenched on the handhold above the passenger door, grip tightening.

"Please let me know if I'm doing anything wrong, I'm not used to this 4WDing caper," I requested, surface cheeriness masking my growing anxiety as the car powered along... we seemed to be sliding around on the oily soil.

"Zzzhhhhhmming," Birdman tittered nervously, reaching up with another hand to grasp the handhold firmly.

I only lost control of the car twice.

After about half hour driving it dawned on me that we all might feel a little safer if I slowed from the hasty 80kmph I had been aiming at to a more sedate 60. The difference in my control of the vehicle was remarkable. Five minutes later we dropped Bob at the gate to his camp. He declined our kind offer to drive him all the way in, despite the fact that it was pouring rain and the camp was a good 500m away.

Bob's parting suggestion: "Perhaps you girls should think about taking the sealed road to Nyngan instead of the short cut across country to Coolabah. Some of the roads between here and there can get a bit sticky."

Kind man. We took his advice.

ascending Jesus

Ever been to visit a town called Coonamble in country NSW?


Its a nice looking place.


Vanessa and I visited on our way through to the Macquarie Marshes on our Central NSW road trip. It was Easter Sunday. Coonamble was our first port of call after the Warrumbungles, and as we approached the main street we saw an effigy strung between two wires, hovering in sinister fashion over the main street. As we drew nearer, we were stunned into understanding just what we were seeing...




"It's Christ ascending over Coonamble," Vanessa whispered in disbelief.


"But why?" I requested to know. I still request to know.




VK rang her family while we were in range, and of course shared the news. Her bro Ben made a rather acute observation, "The scary thing is that it wasn't a single person who decided to create a Jesus ascending over Coonamble mannequin. No it would have taken a whole committee of people..."

the swinging of the ages

with my body I will sway to the swinging of the ages
with my head I will nod and say come into my life
I will praise and give thanks to the Lord of my life
for He is the source of my light


Ahh singing really is my favourite thing to do. Two weeks of driving through and living in this brown, red and white state means a lot of reflecting still to come, but for now I will say that meeting with and joining in life with goode friends (whom you aspire to be like) is a great way to fill one's cup (to overflowing).

hatch yourself

Hi. This is the poem I wrote tonight at Fairy Floss while the girls painted their blown eggs (let's hear it for Jonno who poured his heart and soul into preparing the craft this week!)

It sort of reflects how I feel about the Fairy Floss girls. I think it's a healthy thought process in the making.


Egg...


Hatch yourself.


Don't expect
me
to hatch you,


because eggs
can
only hatch

from
the inside.

healing

I recently discovered a poem that I wrote last year during a time of healing...

Roads wind

round like lanes;

but blue grey lines

between purple and green.

Everything has a sheen

as the sun glispers off

the grasses.

It looks warm

like Spring when

warm is welcome.

I want to stop,

but must fly past

fields of frenzied calm,

viewing through windows

the world -

unknitting and loosening the top of my head

and I feel the heavy frown

I have carried unknowing

lifted,

wiped away

by beauty I am driving through

and on past.

smoke gets in your eyes

Tonight I feel smoky but good.

It's good to have friends you look up to, respect and enjoy.

The women in my life are serene, cloudless eternal giants. And fun and flighty and hammy and shammy. I love them, I love these friends. I love the real thing, bursting buds

the rough tang of otherness

and I get to enjoy the sensation of being a live creature among live creatures.

sleep lillith

Then first I knew what an awful thing it was to be awake in the universe: I WAS, and could not help it!

Out of sleep, my muddy mind comes sharply awake to hear these words whispered in my ear. I hear the rain plunge downward and fear that the roof will crumple. I share the whisperer's realisation, though I am not quite sure why.

I have been listening to some readings of George MacDonald in my MP3 player as I drift off to sleep over the last few days. Lillith, the current story of choice for me. It seems appropriate because of the dreamlike quality of the story. All sorts of bizarre and surreal events occur to our protagonist and my mind follows his journeys, creating a series of lagging, livid sleep images.

I am not used to reading such fanciful work, at least not in the form of a full length novel, and I really struggled to lose myself in 'Phantastes' when I had a go at it last year. So I am enjoying this 'reading' because because I do not have to concentrate on the reading and making sense of words on a page. Somehow in this relaxed form of listening my mind makes the sense out of it. I think it will make my reading of the story richer when I do come to it properly.

Please do head off to Librivox.org and download your very own version of 'Lillith' and have a go at sleep reading. The fellow who reads it has done a tip top job.

But sometimes it is rather frightening,

With a full face she [the moon] rose, and I began to see a little about me. Westward of her, and not far from me, a range of low hills broke the horizon-line: I set out for it.

But what a night I had to pass ere I reached it! The moon seemed to know something, for she stared at me oddly. Her look was indeed icy-cold, but full of interest, or at least curiosity. She was not the same moon I had known on the earth; her face was strange to me, and her light yet stranger. Perhaps it came from an unknown sun! Every time I looked up, I found her staring at me with all her might! At first I was annoyed, as at the rudeness of a fellow creature; but soon I saw or fancied a certain wondering pity in her gaze: why was I out in her night?

Then first I knew what an awful thing it was to be awake in the universe: I WAS, and could not help it!

Extract from Lillith by George MacDonald, etext found at http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1640/1640-8.txt.

Also, free audiobook versions of Lillith and other George MacDonald favourites can be found at http://www.librivox.org/. You can also volunteer to record audiobooks for these guys - something I would love to do when I get some more time!