Birthdays.....really?

There is simply something about birthdays that makes one contemplative....to take stock and see where life has led you so far. This birthday I found myself noting how little I really needed. The day was special in itself simply as it held the promise of newness, of possibility and hope. What could come in a wrapped package that could add to such perfection. I walked in our garden, looked over the glorious hills we call home and played with the animals that share our home with us . Our little goat Atty is now well and truly on her way to eating solid food and grass and anything else she can get to! The chickens are laying.....our cats are discovering and rejoicing in farm life. The arms of a man who truly loves me as I am. All around me growth and change and promise. My spirit was filled and my soul dancing. I often wonder if one's soul celebrates birthdays? It seems somehow a pointless pursuit for something that is ageless and timeless. Yet in our seen world we make such a fuss over birthdays...the hype , the pressure and the expectation and even the fear of .Is this done with complete ignorance that we are indeed ageless and timeless. How can we celebrate the marking of time for something that has always been. It baffles and intrigues me .So instead of celebrating a year older , I have chosen to see myself as yet again woven into the fabric of all that has been like me - truly in existance for all time. Does this sound like self importance or pride? Hardly, in reality. To me it is perfect humility . For it does not place importance in myself or my spot in this world, rather it sees my life as merely a thread , a drop , a whisper in what is a glorious whole. One that has no beginning and no end. So then............happy birthday everyday.

Sock Steam

After a very fulfiling day in which the stock were all feed and contented in the sunshine, the firewood supplies replenished, a casual couple of hours spent chatting with new nieghbours and new seasons vege seeds were planted we sat down for a cuppa as the sun was setting. As it was getting very cold outside I dragged the couch around in the lounge to face the sunset enabling me to put my feet up on the window sill. Such simple comfort and pleasure being the test of a great life.

As the sun sank behind the hills and the sky went through the various stages of saying goodnight to the earth the temperature dropped until the glass became cold enough to condensate from the heat rising off my dirty socks propped upon the widow sill. Such a silly thing to notice! Absolutely horrifying to anyone who thinks clean windows (or clean socks) make up an important part of any day. But to me the slow steaming fog that I could direct by simply moving my feet left or right represented a purity of feedom to live as I choose such as I have spent my life searching for.

I know I am home. Home in a spiritual and physical sense when I am in such peaceful moments as these. Moving to Ngaroma almost a year ago was a home coming for me, even though I had never lived here before. Such is my souls connection to the hills and remote bush clad lands.

Never one to be entirely comfortable in 'civilised' living (although well enough brought up to be able to pretend admirably) I find a certain joy in steaming the windows of my lounge with the warm odour of a long day in boots. I have recently been refered to as 'Feral' by friends and they may not be too far from the truth. But if feral is what I am then I'd be living a falsehood to attempt to live in any other way. I have been guilty of this in the past, most of us have if we were honest I think, living in conformation with societal, religious or moral expectations. These seldom work for more than a few of us and I am surprised at the allegience we swear to such norms all the while feeling a repression of spirit under their heartless rule.

So here's to sock steam on the window and courage to live unacceptable lives of freedom and truth unto our own unique souls.