Kia ora tatou:

This website is about to suffer a permanent intermission. It allows me only limited storage  so will not last long before becoming blocked up.

For that reason I have opened a website dedicated to this type of writing, where all the activity will take place from now on.

Please  look here.

You may want to bookmark it.

As I were a shepherd on a lemon sea..and then the dream shifted.

I had a vision. In that state I saw myself lying, a dragon atop my Eggs of Memory. I saw suns, stars and moons. I grew beyond. I saw the universe expanding, slowly, consistently. And I saw that for all its change, it was a single entity. It was a moment of revelation. Time appears to move but remains still. It expands but just is. It is mobile and immobile congruently.

Some form of spirituality, it seems to me, is the basis of all our lives, whether we choose to accept this fact or not. I begin to wonder also whether wandering away for a time from the tradition of our birth may be a natural part of spiritual growth, that it is OK if that happens. It is a thing not just confined to Christianity, which is the basis of my tradition for this life. In fact I have heard Hindu parents complaining that their young people are just not as interested these days. I would imagine that there are some Moslem parents who say the same thing. Going walkabout may be vital and perhaps the opportunity God-given.

What is it that binds us all together, what is that that joins all living things?

It is breathing. Hau.

When I breathe, I am sharing the air that circles our planet and infuses everything. When I breathe, I am sharing the air that all livng things need to sustain their lives.

When I breathe, I am sharing the air that all men are breathing. Not only that, I am sharing the air that all those before me have breathed, have inhaled and exhaled, have taken in, absorbed, transmuted and then exhaled. I am breathing the past and all that has gone before me.  I am thus physically connected to my ancestors, my tupuna, along with the descendants of all those around me, seen and unseen, known and unknown. I am also breathing the same air that those who follow will breathe. I am therefore physically and directly connected to the future. For this reason, because I breathe, I am part of everything, connected to the All, connected physically to every thing.

Day after day alone on the hill,
The man with the foolish grin is keeping perfectly still,

I imagine all the people I am and I am all the people I imagine.

If I was to sit, my back pressed against one of the trees in the middle of Fitzgerald Avenue and watch the traffic, to be amongst it, what would happen?

For a time, I suspect, nothing much. People would drive past, on their own journeys. Whichever way I faced, I would have my back to one stream and my face to the other. Some would come from behind, while others would come toward me. Some might look up or to one side and observe me. Others would not. They might wonder why a man was sitting there. They would, no doubt, draw their own assumptions about why I was there and a few might wonder who I was. Almost all would make some kind of judgement. He is a nutter; he is homeless; he is a druggie or he is mad. In doing so they would affirm their own beliefs. They would pin their own illusion on me, or attempt to do so.

I might do the same. but I would try not to.