Time Out

I’ve decided to have a week’s break from blogging and doing pretty much anything at present as the heat has really begun to affect me badly and I’m suffering from heat exhaustion.  We’ve had over a fortnight of 40C (102-104F) with intense humidity and it has been utterly draining.  We are facing the same for the rest of the week, with temperatures slated to start dropping next week (I live in hope!).  As I am feeling  under the weather with the high heat coupled with rampant humidity and it’s caused my fibromyalgia to flare up badly too, I decided I’m just going to rest and wait it out until it feels okay to return to blogging.

We have also decided to put our apartment up for sale as we want to live in a house rather than a complex, and also search out a Cypriot house as they’re more attuned to the climate, so watch this space.  Our friends think it’s very funny as we have moved nine times in the past twenty years (including moving to the UK and back to Australia, and then to North Cyprus) and I guess they’ve been wondering when the next move would happen!

I created this digital art a couple of days ago with a photo I took of a spider when I was living in Woodenbong, high in the Border Ranges in northern New  South Wales.  So l will post it although I have no insights into it whatsoever, my brain feels like mush!

Web of Life

 

Colours of Your Life (Beige is BORING!)

Colours of Your Life

BEIGE – THE COLOUR OF DEATH!

Beige is boring.

Beige is bland.

If you wear beige:

Smack your hand!

Before and after my mother died, I got fatter and fatter and wore black. I was convinced black made me look slimmer.  I also didn’t realise that black represented the deep depression I suffered after my mum died. I felt very self-conscious at being so fat and seldom went out or socialised although I tried to maintain a bubbly demeanour to hide how sad and unhappy I was. Looking back on that time, I often say that if I’d auditioned for The Incredible Hulk, I’d have been a shoe-in.

I remember sitting at a table with other people at a fat camp (my employers sent me there to lose weight and I should have told them to get stuffed). One lady at the other end of the table was looking around at us all and describing us in one, positive word.  She got to me and hesitated at the black, fat,  lump glowering at her from the end of the table.  You could see her frantically thinking: “What on earth can I call her?”.  And then a wave of relief went over her face and she said: “Gaelic!”.  Which was spot on, actually, as I have Welsh and Irish heritage.

A few years later I started learning Reiki and in the therapy centre was a whole heap of information on colours.  I started reading up about colour, particularly in regard to the chakra energy centres, as I’d never come across this sort of information before. And then one day I walked out and saw a little fat butterball of a lady wearing black and obviously, like me, hoping it made her look slimmer. It didn’t. It screamed out the message: “I am fat and hoping to look thinner wearing black, but I don’t, I still look fat.”  So THEN I looked at myself and understood that my own message was: “I am tall, fat and wearing black in the hope of looking thinner but I don’t,  I still look fat!”.

It was an eye-opener for me and worked in quite synchronistically with the changes I was going through as Reiki started its healing influence on  me. So the next day I went to one of the big department stores in Perth, Western Australia, and bought a summer dress: not just any old dress, but one which resembled Joseph’s Coat of Many Colours.  There were so many colours on that dress and so many patterns, it absolutely blinded you!  My husband called it my Ken Done dress, as that gentleman creates crazy-coloured artworks and patterns.

This started my road to mental wellness. Not only did I feel better wearing brightly coloured clothes again, I found that I’d dropped barriers to inter-action with people which I’d unconsciously set up while I was depressed and wearing black.  One woman walked up to me in the street and said with great delight and a big smile on her face: “That dress is absolutely gorgeous, I just love it. Such wonderful colours!”.  And I was delighted too because the feedback was not only great, it opened me up to accepting compliments and to smiling at people again.

So here’s the gen: think about the colours in your life and don’t blandify yourself. Above all, don’t wear beige!  It is a boring, bland colour which leeches the life out of people wearing it. The Fashion Mafiosa might like it but give these standover merchants the flick.  It’s a sign you don’t value yourself. Wear colours! Wear your passion! I don’t care what colours, but sort out what you like – not what fashion said should be worn at any one time, but colours that suit you and shout your brightness to the world.

And if you want to talk about bright, here’s a link to one wonderful lady who appeared in a recent documentary, Fabulous Fashionistas.  She’s a woman after my own heart – not only does she wear blindingly bright colours and accessories, she hates beige!

 

Blessings

 

Comeththelight.jpgWe got up on Tuesday morning to find we had no water. The apartment on the ground floor opposite us was sold recently and now we have families from Russia staying there – who have no idea of water-wise habits here in dry North Cyprus. It’s been stinking hot and they had merrily used up all the water in the underground tank which serves all four apartments in our block. We get the tank automatically refilled on Thursday so had a long wait for showers, etc.

Our neighbours were most apologetic, but it fell to us to sort it out as we know the ropes in North Cyprus and they don’t. The morning was spent tracking down someone who delivers water (luckily a friend found a supplier for us), then sitting around waiting until they turned up. So lo and behold, Tuesday afternoon we had half a tankful of water delivered, were back in action – only we weren’t.  There was air in the pump, the switch wouldn’t work because of that, and we weren’t able to get it sorted out until Wednesday morning when, thankfully, we had water again for washing, showers and the toilet.

We did have drinking water as we buy that here – the water supplied by the Belideye (the local council) is not for drinking, so at least we did have water on hand to drink.

I was sitting thinking about this because it was a bit of a nuisance, but it occurred to me to look on the bright side of life.  It was only a day’s disruption to our water supply; we still have a roof over our head; we have power to operate lights, computer and so on. And we have gas so we could cook when we wanted to. I say this because we live in a region of huge instability with refugees and great tragedies on our doorstep: Syria, Iraq, Palestine, Lebanon, Egypt, Libya, the African continent. Every day we see people in tragic circumstances with very little hope of a decent water supply, let alone food, power and decent housing.

So I decided not to moan about lack of water, but to count my blessings that we normally have a regular water supply, we live in a comfortable apartment, have power most of the time, can cook when we want to, and can look out on a very pretty garden.  We, my husband and I, have each other and we have four dogs who love us and three cats who, well, rule the roost, I suppose!

It’s so easy to moan about small disruptions in daily life when in the overall view life is really very good. It’s why I decided to consider my blessings and give thanks for the life I lead here in North Cyprus!

 

 

Respect!

Respect

RESPECT!

Respect:

That whore you sneer at

as she stands thin and tired at the roadside,

that addict shooting up in

a squalid alley or rancid room

Was raped as a kid by daddy/step-daddy/family friend/priest

beaten by their

mother/father/brother/sister,

Given a fix by their mother at twelve years of age.

Respect!

Lives on the streets because they have a mental illness

Can be child/girl/woman/boy/man who

Hasn’t known love as the system moves him/her

from house to house/boarding house/.

Respect!

Don’t say “home”.

Because home means love and to the

raped/abused/paedophile victim/loveless person/

mentally ill person

each house of refuge/shelter/rooming house is not a home:

Respect!

Only the smack/crack/ice

is the Lover, the one who whispers in your ear aching for love, for hugs:

I will provide the oblivion from a world

which has scraped you raw,

left you bleeding from your heart,

Turns its back.

Because you are The Shadow:

What we all could be.

So walk a mile in their shoes.

Then show them your heart:

Respect!  Respect!  Respect!

Dream Talking

Well, no, I’m not exactly talking in dreams but the last one I had was very simple and very clear and was about communication: I was in my home watching as a phone landline was being installed to my house. A bit ironic in one way because landlines in North Cyprus are as rare as hen’s teeth, mobile phones are the way to go here.

For me, the dream was saying that my communication paths are opening up, perhaps not quite there, because the trench for the cables hadn’t quite reached my home (which in dreams often means yourself). But the poems are crowding into my head now, lining up to be written so things are changing for me and I feel on a bit of a roll.

I decided also that I’d revamp my sanctuary tables too.  I’m not comfortable really with the term “altar” as it brings back unpleasant memories of being in a convent as a kid. But I decided I liked the term “sanctuary tables” because they do represent for me a connection to the earth, to ground me and to help me cope with life on earth.

I have suffered from depression in the past but have managed to work through to its causes which has helped me stay pretty sane (well, I think I’m sane, others might have different ideas!). But I do find life on earth hard, particularly when I see what evil humanity is capable of. A comment by Russell Brand about Robin Williams’ tragic suicide rang so many bells for me I could feel tears welling up: “an attempt to anaesthetise against a reality that constantly knocks against your nerves.”

I’m lucky in that I have a lot of optimism within me – I am so grateful for the good that people do, the help that is extended so generously to others, the outrage at social injustice, the artists and singers, my friends, my wonderful husband, our menagerie of cats and dogs. But I do find very wearing the selfishness, the rage around these days, the focus on things rather than people, the lies of governments, the victimisation and scapegoating of the poor and dispossessed, the greed of the super-rich and the way governments serve big business, not the people.

So my tables are sanctuaries for me – the reminder of the sacred in watching birds fly; hearing birds sing; feeling the energy of rocks and crystals, hearing the purity of my singing bowl; feeling energised by using my rattles; tuning into earth, fire, air and water. So today I also burned a feather from my past, my old me. I know I’m moving in new directions because the way I dress is also changing – not so gypsy-ish as I was in Australia, I’m wearing tighter clothing as I’m showing more of myself as I am but, don’t worry, still got the purple hair!

The Round Glass Table in my Study:

The turquoise of the bowl represents communication with love; at the bottom of the bowl are dried rose petals  from the Apothecary’s Rose in my garden, one of my favourite roses, and obviously to remind me of love;  around the edge are feathers for the air element – from pigeons, doves, rainbow lorikeets, pheasant coucals (a cuckoo found in northern New South Wales and southern Queensland, Australia) and kookaburras. In astrological terms, I have nine air signs and no earth signs, so birds are important to me being representative of the air element, but I need crystals, rocks and stones to ground me back to the earth element. So on the table are three spheres: ruby for energy; labradorite for magic communication; and girasol for the vast, expansive energy of Jupiter. There are also two crow wings which I salvaged from a crow killed by a car, and a barn owl wing, again salvaged from a barn owl killed by a car. Both again represent air element for me. Also on the table  are the elements I worked with on soul retrieval which remain private and sacred – burning the feather today represented a return to wholeness for me and a letting go of the past. And finally the Buddha figure reminds me of the sacred in life, while the petrified wood underneath brings back memories of my eight years in south-east Queensland where I turned my life around, discovered the artist, teacher, photographer and writer within and never looked back.

The Round, Black Glass Table on my Verandah:

The rocks around the centre bowl all represent important memories and relationships for me. The bowl in the centre is green, for the energy of water, and in the bowl are rocks, coloured glass pebbles again representing the colour of water, and pine cones for earth energy.  There are also sparkly, white balls which represent the stars and galaxies around us.

And after all the wordy descriptions, here are my sanctuary tables:

Altar table - Study Altar Table - Verandah

God Damn the Armaments Man (thanks to God damn the Pusher , Steppenwolf)

who-needs-war-facebook

GOD DAMN THE ARMAMENTS MAN

Yes, you: the one who manufactures and

pushes weapons anywhere in the world,

served so well by servile governments:

God damn you

‘cos you’re the Pusher Man,

the Armaments Man,

the World of Warcraft for real.

Makes and hawks his wares as a mercenary

Because he’s sold his soul to the devil:

to the billions of dollars that line his pockets

when he sells

warplanes/attack helicopters/Hellfire missiles/flechette weapons/

armoured cars/nerve gas/

water cannon/rubber bullets/grenade launchers/grenades/

fragmentation grenades/gas grenades/assault rifles/

bunker-busting bombs/drones (long-distance murder)/

the list goes on of Pusher Man’s creative ingenuity to

kill/splatter apart/rip to shreds/annihilate

people:

mothers, fathers, grandparents, uncles, aunties,

nieces, nephews, grandchildren, boys, girls.

Do you feel proud of yourself, Pusher Man?

Have you ever thought of construction rather than destruction?

if you’d put your ingenuity, your creativity, your resourcefulness

to work to create:

jobs/education/health services/roads/schools/hospitals/

houses/renewable energy.

You’d be the hero, the one cheered on by those

benefiting by your service to society.

What a concept, eh?

Not killing. Serving.

Think about it, Armaments Man,

because we, the people, are coming right in  your face,

you’re in our sights:

occupying your murderous factories,

working on boycotts of your subsidiaries

which may not bear your name but we’ll

track you down  and bring you down,

not with your weapons of destruction and death,

but our weapons of boycotts, social media, naming and shaming,

disinvestment, starving you of funds and approval.

You’ll wither on the vine while the fruits of

peace flourish, expand and scatter roses for

future generations.

Armaments Pusher Man: your time is UP!

(In Melbourne, Australia, demonstrators targeted the Israeli arms manufacturer, Elbit,  markets its drones as “field tested”. Well, yes, they are, on Palestinians in Gaza.

http://mondoweiss.net/2014/07/resolution-supporting-israel.html

Figures below are from Wikipedia.

Rank Company Country Arms sales (US$ m.) Total company employment
1 Lockheed Martin  United States 36,000 120,000
2 Boeing  United States 27,610 174,400
3 BAE Systems  United Kingdom 26,850 88,200
4 Raytheon  United States 22,500 67,800
5 General Dynamics  United States 20,940 92,200
6 Northrop Grumman  United States 19,400 68,100
7 Airbus Group  European Union 15,400 140,000
8 United Technologies Corporation  United States 13,460 218,300
9 Finmeccanica  Italy 12,530 67,408
10 L-3 Communications  United States 10,840 51,000

 

For Crow-Lovers

Yes, folks, I’ve done it again – got a good shot of four hooded crows who landed on a tree in front of our kitchen.

Hooded crows are native to North Cyprus and around this region. They’re smaller than the crows I used to see in Australia and tend to be more solitary. But this is part of the family of crows nesting near here – Ma, Pa and three young ones.

My husband noticed them landing and called me – three had already landed and a fourth turned up just as I stepped into our kitchen. Luckily I’d left my camera on the kitchen cabinet, grabbed it, and hey presto!  captured the Gang of Four just seconds before they all took off!

Hooded Crows x 4