understanding patterns; connecting dots

As I wandered along the beach a couple of days ago, a bloke with a metal detector traced a methodical path on the sand. As I passed he was digging deep with his sieve and the expression on his face was like our King Charles Cavalier Spaniel when she buries her nose into an interesting smell in the sand. Metal detecting is not an activity I am drawn to, but I did admire his searching determination. A couple of hours later I was on an aeroplane doing my own prospecting. Or maybe it wasn’t prospecting as much as awareness, but in any case, I struck gold in an unusual place. I was listening to a podcast recommended by my friend Nik. The deeply calming voice of Krista Tippett was in conversation with the late Irish poet and philosopher John O’Donohue. Coincidentally their topic was the Inner Landscape of Beauty, which was a wonderful and stretching dialogue, but I found myself mesmerised by the sounds of their voices. John almost sings his sentences which are strung out with slow poetic ext...

As Maria and I lingered over breakfast one morning this week I had one of those ‘aha moments’ that offers an instant and substantial paradigm shift. The context was me lamenting (weirdly and perhaps funnily) how favourable circumstances improve my mood. Why lamenting? Because I seek an inner disposition that sees beyond the circumstantial. I can’t remember when I first came across the sentiment apparently common in Sweden and Norway that in essence says, “There is no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing.” But when I did, it had a striking impact on me, and since then I have been frequently reminded by my wise daughter of a related idea, that “all weather has beauty”, and to describe weather as ‘beautiful’ conflates it with the experience of pleasantness, betraying our civilised and domesticated bias toward comfort and convenience. A significant expression of my commitment to re-wilding, is swimming in the ocean early every morning: whatever the conditions, same time, ...

The more I pursue my own integrity, the more frequently I feel alienated. The more I seek a life characterised by slow and simple, the more I am uncomfortable with recognition and power, and desire truth and humility, the less I feel at home in the world. I am discovering that my inner journey is actually less about acquiring attributes and more about shedding. Shedding the masks I have worn, but also divesting the mindsets and attitudes that have defined my lifestyle and that are unchallenged in mainstream media and public discourse. It seems like the tribe I feel most at home among is marginal and probably considered a bit weird. Am I sliding into misguided weirdness, or am I seeing the front edge of human consciousness? It’s little things that trigger these thoughts. People come back from travel and have ‘done’ Brazil rather than being humbled by her. I walk around our town house and feel burdened by cupboards and rooms filled with ‘stuff’ (good and useful stuff mind you!) when our ...

A few days ago we made ravioli. The simple tomato sauce brewed with our home grown fruit, coupled with the parcels of spinach, ricotta and chicken, made the long, slow hard way, was not only culinarily spectacular, but it reminded me who we are. It grounded me because this dish conjures up memories of special occasions with our kids and indeed, Maria’s family roots. It made me ponder why some things play a role that is more deeply significant than the activity appears at face value. In the same way that exercise keeps me physically fit, some activities keep my soul fit. Some grounding practices connect me with my true self. Others connect me with those I love and the community in which I belong. And some practices remind me that I belong to the earth, that I am simply an expression of a particular wave of humanity. My grounding practices are characterised by: Mindfulness, bodyfulness & spiritfulness. They engage multiple dimensions and in that sense are integral. Connection. Conne...

A few days ago I got this (@alturnbull) card from a friend. I like it a lot. The chair on the deck near a tree. Cold drink at hand, sun hat discarded … and slow cooking cast iron enamel pot visible through the kitchen window. It conjures up a lazy carefree afternoon when life is good, a little oasis. Yes, please. ‘Such a contrasting reality to the weird shenanigans going on in the world around us. Unlike the lightness in the image, my soul is actually tired. It takes so much effort to stay present, to stop scrolling, to keep my conscience clear and to turn up everyday to the things that matter most. It’s no wonder clever artists seduce us with scenes like this one. Of course the problem is that if I were to sit on that pink chair, and reach for that drink, my inner world would still be there. The weirdness of the world, the out of control power hunger and status anxiety addictions would still be lurking like some storm clouds all around. Last year I took a sabbatical. It was wonderful,...

If you think your path is pretty secure and you know what’s coming, then you can stop reading now. This post won’t make any sense to you. If you’ve got some uncertainty in your life in areas that matter, and/or your experience suggests that life bowls some swinging deliveries pretty regularly (that, by the way, is my attempt to contextualise the American ‘curve ball’) then you’re like me, and there might be something here of value. So, what if the assumption that wisdom can help me navigate through uncertainty is a faulty one? ‘How to’ help is everywhere. But maybe it’s smoke and mirrors. Maybe my privilege has lied to me about what I am entitled to when it comes to wisdom in uncertain periods of living. Maria shared a post from Kevin Kaiser that was more than a reminder, it invited me further into the peace of embracing what’s real rather than what I hope for. So this is not my own musing. But what Kevin wrote was profoundly helpful. If I was journalling this I would reproduce his ma...

On the morning of my 38th birthday, I woke up in a hotel bed in Alexandra Headlands and turned the radio on. The first words I heard were “The World Trade Centre is no more.” It was like I was listening to fiction. Nearly 20 years later, as awareness of the dangers of the then-little-understood COVID19 virus were beginning to grip governments, I turned on the TV news to the headline, “China has closed its borders.” I again felt like I was watching a Hollywood movie. What followed was a season of unprecedented weirdness as stay-at-home orders were issued, face masks became mandatory and cities that never shut down became deserted. It was completely surreal. It was hell-on-earth for many. For others, it was surprisingly heaven-on-earth. We’ve all heard the reflections on how what matters most became front and centre. People reached out to neighbours, spent time with their kids like never before and discovered ways to tap into their creativity and ingenuity. Yes, for some it was unsafe an...

It had been a long time since I’d caught the train to Melbourne, so it was kind of interesting and kind of depressing to stand on the platform for a couple of days this past week, with what felt like 150 other people, waiting to do the commute. It bought back memories, not all good. In case this post is misunderstood - there is nothing wrong with commuting to work. Doing good work is an important and necessary part of being an active citizen, making a contribution to society and helping provide for our families and loved ones. But it’s got out of hand. How have our lives got so busy chasing more money and experiences? This morning I saw a re-post of a parable I’d heard many years ago. It takes different forms in different cultures, and every version I’ve heard is about a fisherman, but the message is the same. I thought I’d have a go at writing a version for my context. A parable Once upon a time there was a bloke who lived in a seaside village with his gorgeous partner who he loved at...