(it’s not just old age, either)

 

Echoes from Emptiness: Backyard Bauhinia

 
Under a new moon, at the turning of the earth towards summer, I sit at my table out on the deck, the candle flickering as the last stragglers of the bat community head over east, and I, a being once so addicted to “everywhere-but-here”, a global gaddabout of the first order, so easily seduced by salubrious memories of living and working and loving in Europe, North America, India, the Homeland (Aotearoa New Zealand), always ready to go – go – go now, am wallowing in a ridiculous contentment that consumes all desire to spend precious energy fleeing the inexplicable luxury of just this.

How, when my inhalation blesses me with the fragrance of Jasmine, Lavender, Wisteria, Orange and Mango blossom and I am giddy with double delight* at the excessive glory of the huge Bauhinia in my backyard, could I pine for any other clime?

How, when Kookaburra, Currawong, Magpie, uncountable Lorikeets and a host of unidentified cheepers and warblers chorus so insistently at 4am could I wish for a dark, cold, silent dawn elsewhere?

How, when greeted, like this morning, with a sky of powder-blue that throws the Border Ranges and Mount Warning into a chiaroscuro of subtle tones of silver, could I long even for those beloved Alps of my childhood?

I bless the land life has brought me to. It wasn’t my call, and it hasn’t always been easy. But I know beyond a shadow of doubt, it was, and it is, exactly where I need to be.

I am at last able to say – I love I love I love this sunburnt country.

And the weird thing is that it’s not about Australia at all.

I am simply and hopelessly in love.

 


Image by yours truly: Bauhinia blakeana – also known as the Hong Kong Orchid Tree. More info here.
*Treble delight actually – the tree is a dynamo of insect activity, and the Rainbow Lorikeets never draw breath.


“sunburnt country” – lifted from Dorothea Mackellar’s poem: My Country.


no one owns this happiness

216

This body-mind rests as unwavering happiness.

How can that be so?

There’s a mangled knee, and surgery tomorrow.
There’s midge and mozzie mayhem.
There’s a stiff spine from a strange posture
held overlong in the studio …

Yet suchness equals happiness.

Who could fret about pain,
worry about surgery,
fuss over insect bites,
complain of a sore back
when every detail of every scenario
is simply what-is?

Without a hint of negation
aversion or denial
I fail to find any owner.

This body-mind rests as unwavering happiness
and that happiness, too,
is simply what-is.

Without a hint of desire
preference or aspiration
I fail to find any owner.

~

[2002]

hope is the enemy of peace

107

Morning Report:

pain, sinus, head-cold, cough, temperature, toothache, knee-collapse
body demands attention and is receiving it

there is no desire for any of this to be other-than-it-is:
just now, like this, right here.

and this is the peace that was hungered for, sought
in every hopeful thought

~

it’s a big say, but it can’t be denied:
hope is the enemy of peace

for hope-full thoughts abandon actuality
projecting an idea-l scenario and
sabotaging the movement of an
incomprehensible Intelligence
which knows without knowing
and acts beyond right or wrong

~