Beyond Pure Timeless Beauty

 

As I noted last time, I have matters of concern from "...gifted thoughts, mediations, psychological warfare, technological insertions, environmental cages -- families, groups, organisations, and institutions -- that all want some part of my body for good or ill".  

• Gifted Thoughts

Though I reside in New Zealand, a part of me still lives in America, the part that I have always felt toward the Declaration of Independence whose expressions I adored from a young age.  In Congress, July 4, 1776

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America, When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness...( https://www.archives.gov/founding-docs/declaration-transcript ). 

• Mediations 

Over time I have had to learn and unlearn, wash and recycle, cleave to and cut off many different thoughts. But, never have I questioned the self-evident truths of every man, woman, and child's "unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness...". Never, not once have I doubted these expressions that are a part of my body as Truth.

• Psychological Warfare 

From 1956 to current date, I can attest to the continuum of psychological warfare upon 

We the People of the United States... (https://www.archives.gov/founding-docs/constitution-transcript).

that can NOW be SEEN by ALL. 

• Technological Insertions

Who among us can live without technological entanglements that threatens to control and monitor our every movement? 

• Environmental Cages

Climate Change, 5G Rollout, Covid-19, The Great Reset, the New Normal, 

New World Government

• Families, Groups, Organisations, and Institutions

It is now time to recreate, reorganise, regroup and rebuild every thing we ever thought we knew and took for granted. 

Poranui Beach (part of something bigger)

 With this view of Poranui Beach I ponder, what on earth is going on? Outside this New Zealand bach's window is 'pure timeless beauty.' 

Beyond 'pure timeless beauty' comes gifted thoughts, mediations, psychological warfare, technological insertions, environmental cages -- families, groups, organisations, and institutions -- that all want some part of my body for good or ill, creating matters of concern.  

Herein, I will share my concerns and how I choose to negotiate their impact upon my body's landscape. This will be over time, it is a process of pace that I adhere to.

However, we are so much more than just a body. Our subjective spirit with the invisible and miraculous that seems like magic but is always natural and awe-inspiring is nothing short of god-like. Some call us 'Supernatural,' I do, and equate us with the beach in the photo above whose Maori name means 'part of something bigger.' 

That 'part of something bigger' is easier for me to grasp when I look outside into nature. But if I say we are 'pure timeless beauty,' just like 'the nature,' most people would object. And, they would feel right in doing so. But does that make me wrong? 

Or, perhaps I am simply being poetic with my terminologies wherein 'pure' is a measure of any entity that is itself, 'timeless' a state of beyond mind which inhabits prebirth and after death, and 'beauty' is to the process of being human as elegant is to the discovery of pure mathematics. 

Meanwhile, my matters of concern can wait and bake for now. I am staring out the window and nothing concerning comes to mind.     

 

 

 

     

The Southern Bays of Banks Peninsula

 Birdlings Flat, New Zealand

This fine day. I write from my lair inside Miss Daisy May, a 1969 American travel trailer now known as a caravan in New Zealand. We both are expatriates of the USA and placed with the view from above. It is a healing place from physical and metaphysical earthquakes, mass shootings and relatives that feel unrelated. Miss Daisy May was my first metallic womb, a place with some bounce and warm wood so that I can stretch out my arms and legs and ride around inside her end over end without fear of coming undone in the process of birthing my next self.  

  

Our faithful dog Tuppy is usually somewhere close. He is the perfect writer's companion until he starts snoring. We think Tuppy is thirteen years old but our calculators went haywire after the earthquakes. Time became distorted when numbers were gobbled up for guesstimating how far east that one was, how deep, and what number on the rector scale. "How old am I?" was replaced with "My god, I am still here!" My god became my dog and I retreating from the epicentre of hateful happenings. 

Happenings is such a polite word for earthquakes, death threats to the psyche and blood in the streets where you use to walk around but now don't.

No, now I live as shown above because "place" is pivotal for traumatised souls to regain subjective wellbeing during their happening. For me, living on the water's edge viewing an ever changing landscape while nestled inside a small self-contained space is exactly what my psyche ordered. I can feel the surf and the wind modulating my heartbeat and breath, if I keel over from ecstasy or fright, I will be propped back up by a wall, pillow, or puppy dog. 

Twelve Days Sober

The further I remove myself from virtual reality, the more real my world becomes. Achingly real, pointedly connected to the pupil in Ivy's eyes, my young granddaughter, a force I reckon with each time I part her presence from mine, I wonder: what world does she make in her mind?

What legacies am I imprinting her with, what stories do I tell her over time?

I wonder about these things when contemplating the unrecognisable aspects of myself/ourselves. We seem embedded inside the variable depths of turquoise upon the horizon line.  Here, we are living upon extended land within the South Pacific Ocean surrounding Banks Peninsula, an island called "South" of Aotearoa, New Zealand.  Here, encompassed by two lakes and immense ocean whose next landmass is Antarctica, hemmed in by water with no border patrol, I contemplate physical and metaphysical natures, body and soul. Our bodies are here but:

My soul cries out for my granddaughter, Ivy.

Ivy, how will you write/right your world in your mind when I am dead and gone? What legacy will I leave you to live alongside? An ocean of variable depths of turquoise is the story I shall try to describe about how you came to be 'here' with me.

This will take some time but we are time. You are time in your world no matter how time may seem to be supplied, applied and described as an 'other' that is in control of your life... YOU are in control of time because you and TIME are the same thing. How you perceive time will be your story when you understand the importance of time, yourself. On the production of subjective wellbeing (a thesis for my progeny), the first chapter is TIME. My time WITH you was important enough for me to leave a trail (for all time) with you.

Movement. I moved our family: your mother, aunties and myself to New Zealand from America in 2002 for important reasons. Prevailing American culture did not bode well for the indigenous aspects of my nature. I had NO IDEA we would wind up in New Zealand, I only knew within my body and mind that we had to leave America. I was forty-six years old then, sixty-two years now and a sixteen year immigrant who has had to learn how to language her 'dis-ease' for living in her homeland. It was very uncomfortable not being able to say what was wrong with me living and being in America but I can describe it now to some degree but not completely as I am still understanding my own story and will be until my time is over for this body. In that way, allow me to grow and change, too.

[I will continue to write this here for my grandchildren, though Ivy is my subject, she represents ALL my grandchildren and their children and so on....]





     

WOW (Ways of Wellbeing)

A few days ago I shut down my social media on this technological tool called the internet. Some people and things will find me through other means of transportation such as this forgotten blog. Do I delete this blog, too? I consider her ways and decide to keep her. I do not mind being transparent, I mind having my attention under surveillance and thereby altered. You should mind, too. There I've said it, my first 'thou should' comment. Thou should mind your own mind. Mind your own mind, I mean it. Mind all our minds, delete Facebook.

Something is bothering the sheep, across Lake Forsyth.

The magpies herald the artist's presence as she sets up to paint.

The remarkable power of nature.

Grandmother flies overhead posed as a heron in the artist's heart.
She feels her here.
Over the distance of death, removing 'the far gaze,' she sits and does what she loves without disagreements.
Down to the ground, out toward the sea, she sees with awe, mankind's silence.
There is no melancholy in submitting to the sacred parts that do not need her.
She craves them in her body of mostly water; her, the lake, the blue ocean.
Look, what's there?
Where?
What was that?
I don't know, let's look some more--and,
LISTEN,
HEAR that RHYTHM--that
hum the earth does where it meets
the waters like two lovers copulating without a single reservation in sight.
She hears drums!
Yes, they are the drums and she their tones, the past is gone.
Mixed with dusty stuff from crawling, walking, swimming, running, genuflecting, agitating, she hides in the wood without a muse because Dante owns her, too.
She's not sure where she came from, or,
what her worth might be in a system that measures her buttocks with their hands, or worse--in their minds and on the tip of their tongues: she is a witch.
Switching her consciousness to remain a pacifier, a bridge, a strong wind comes, and then, total calm--she remains.
Painting her sacred places.

Our New Home

The moving process (over two months now) for my family has been very different from anything I have ever known or previously experienced. This time we moved after being stuck in place for six years post earthquakes in Christchurch, New Zealand. While the stress of a move is rated as similar to a death in the family, the joys of coming unstuck from a place with so much internal and external mayhem, has been an adventure with bouts of euphoria. Below is the reality of the mayhem that was our garage after the earthquakes that remained in this state for the past six years until we could begin our move two months ago.

The grim past realities

Those are the pictures I rarely showed to my distant friends and family. I am happy (no, euphoric) to say, this mayhem is now only a recorded lapse in time and why I can share them with you now. Our new garage looks more like this below which has lowered the blood pressure considerably.

The new reality

Thanks be to good friends who came and plodded through our wreckage and stimulated our desire to do something/anything to move from one state of affairs to the other. Here is one such friend performing her smooth dance through our nightmare with a steady stride...

Keep Moving Gracefully

We rewarded Carol Kincaid with the first wood fire bath (because she deserved it!) upon arriving at the new homestead...

The first bath

The gentleman hosing her down, as the wood fire tub gets very hot, is another family friend who has helped our move enormously. Tony Westwood has pulled trailers full of stuff the 35 minute drive, unloaded and brought dessert at the most opportune time. Tony had our caravan "Miss Daisy May" moved from the section we began with here at Birdlings Flat to our home down the road without a hiccup. Honestly, I couldn't watch the move...it was a major accomplishment to which I am ever so grateful. "Miss Daisy May" looks like this now at our new abode.

Miss Daisy May's new position

Because our new home is a tiny one, the caravan is now primarily my daughter's', Kasey May, to whom "Miss Daisy May" was named after and vice versa. Kasey May might have been a Daisy May but I changed her name at the last minute to Kasey May and have since reclaimed the Daisy May for the caravan that has ironically become her home on wheels. Kasey has been a bedrock of strength and support to both Clark and I throughout this past six years of rocking and rolling of other types. Without her strengths this move would not have been possible. Here she is keeping the fire which is a physical act whose symbolic meaning for us is the same. She is a keeper!

Fire Keeper

Jennifer Williamson and Chris Emery have both been completely supportive through this journey of locating and moving homes. I would not like to know what this move would have looked like without their continuous support for all those things that popped up prior and during the move. Jennifer is my 'go to' for sanity making and Chris always gives me a 20 second hug. Jennifer Markman got in on the act very early and brought her trailer to Christchurch (via Ashburton) and filled it up and delivered it to Birdlings Flat which is currently a place that she is physically allergic to. Thank you, Jennifer Markman for being a very amazing adopted daughter and friend. 

Jennifer Williamson at her beloved Bruce River

Chris with a smile to match his hugs

My daughter/friend and all around cowgirl, Jennifer Markman

There are more amazing friends who have come to bless this place with their presence and encouragement. Kathy, Bruce, Judith, Aaron, Jeremiah, Lucy and Jan, thank you all for coming! There are locals who have all been most helpful such as Patrick, Rosco, Wuzza, Donna, Fiona, Tony, Ron, Lorna, Barb and Andre ... and then, there is Tuppy, always keeping watch.

Tuppy

Here are the initial stages of moving into this place that has taken our lives from one cycle to another. There are only four rooms: living/kitchen combined, small office, one bedroom and a bathroom. However, our plans are to build an outdoor kitchen and make the garage and carport more liveable spaces along with an external studio that will be useful for guests.

living room, attached to...

dining and kitchen

small office

only bedroom for now

Meanwhile, Kasey found time to build our first hen house that has "Grace and Frankie" two young chickens who will bless this place with their eggs under Tuppy's careful watch.

Kasey's first hand built hen house

Grace

Keeping Watch

However the real venue is the GREAT OUTDOORS wherein our section borders Lake Forsyth and the Pacific Ocean is within sight and the ever changing landscape is better than any movie or television set...don't need to adjust the colour, it adjusts itself...

We are home now and the past six years of traumatic rocking and rolling and living inundated with stuff is about to come to an end  with two garage sales on the horizon...there is still much to do as the stuff under my car port suggests...

But there is a lot more breathing room...

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yes! 

And, little children to watch being entertained by nature...

Onyx and Ivy, Spring Break 2016