a call to our lostgrandparents

it has been 6 weeks since I started working at Le Crouton (French Artisan) Bakery in Cairns. learning the Artisan trade of Bread Baking was and still is a dream of mine. although I am now seeking other employment, taking up employment at Le Crouton I took part in that dream, but as all dreams must end, no harm in their ending. with every venture, I gain perspective.

it just so happens that as I age, and perspective and sense evolves, I become increasingly recluse. so much so that I have a sense that I may be facing many more years alone in a way. to start a business, alone, to make my way according to my own will and vision, and not to follow what that which does not touch my heart. I wish not to learn skills to be recognised as skilful, but instead to make a life complete. by sharing what I love and enjoy, the craft of my hand and heart as a median by which to make a living by my own labor.

what is my passion, my love and interest?
I wish not to employ the word "passion" to describe my hearts yearning and my creative ambitions. As the word is often used especially in popular culinary culture, of which I am part of by trade. I am sure the word has become shop worn and bewitched and belittled by cliche. in this culture of confused ambition it implies that one must be be very noticeably vocal and stand out as being “passionate.” as if passion has to be coupled with publicity. what about the quiet ambitious?
by heart find a driving force, and by action just do.

for this reason, with discretion, I shall say, in place of passion, instead, perhaps, there is vision, sense.
there are images born of sense and dreams that I connect with and relate to my survival and peace, of a future that may come to be

one image is that of cold, majestic, far removed mountains, rock and sky, standing in thunderous silence unmoved by and uncaring for the world of men. a bestower of dreams and power.

another image is Enlgand, not the modern Empire, but the England of history, the England of poetry and magic. I long to return to England, and set foot on the cold misty planes of the English country side under granite hills and moss covered trees.

I do not want to be hot needlessly in this life. wherever I settle, may I be cool for most of the year and feel the condensing chill of winters frost. winter personifies retreat and contemplation, creativity is stewed and pain reckoned with. the ego struggles under the lowering skies of winter. this bring me to another image. Fire, Brick, Wood, Soil, Grass. also of bread baked by the Hearth, wood and brick.
soups, stocks, yeast and Ale. 

Our Grandmothers, and Grandfathers lost by time, resurrected.

a silly tipsy rant

Smartest thing I ever did was, leave America after living there for 8 years, those eight years were the worst years in my life... From one point of view. I did however gain something from the experience. That is insight, motivation, and a view of a modern world and the propensity of a modern society to influence a loss of humanity.
While silly little human beings, including myself, fuss and fight over trivial points of view, mass perversion and deception rules supreme.

One day, the mountaintops may be the last place on earth where one can be truly human. To be a human being, amongst other beings. Feeling the cool fresh air, steeping the soul in silence, and sense with unintelligible recollection where we come from. Unburdened by the deception of selfish greed and power. Where one might observe silence, beauty, and majestic power of the natural world.

One way I judge my own well being, is by how comfortable I am while sitting in silence. The more restless I am in a silent state, I should know I have become less of a natural human being, less capable of being free and self sustaining.

I do not look forward to the peak of civilization, I look up to the peak of a mountain where clouds silently gather, and the night sky gathers the star light and reaches forever far. Reminding me of how vast and free this existence is. At any time, nature is right here, inside and out, supporting and giving us life. On that vast and empty platform we dance and bounce around, as silly little selfish animals, but yet in the infinitely wide view of creation, we are as natural and harmless as a butterfly. Alone, one can be nurtured by this life and find ones strength. And even while the ever burning haze of our cities wash away the night sky. The silent universe, the quaint country is still the place where we can truly find peace and the support of our mother earth.

There is relief in believing that when it all comes to an end for me, that there will be nothing wrong in this universe. Only to be human, in this time, doing one's best at discerning what is thought to be right and wrong, is what produces anything "wrong".
Once released, the human mind takes rest in the cycles of birth and decay, not holding on to or possessing one single thing. Life, existence, has it's balance, and is beyond our petty judgements.

That what is natural and right is other than our human mind, but is after all, what has been given to us is this mind and the capacity to observe. Everything is at once the observer and the observed, there is actually no separation. That which has produced and will eventually reclaim our brief human form is silent and greater than us, and yet is us. Just as is the wind, the grass, and space between worlds. To that great nothing, we should pay homage and by observing our selfishness, try to be less selfish.

during spring, somewhere.

a hot spring day,

suddenly a cold breeze tickles my skin,

in that instant,

a fond recollection of autumn.

of comfort.
walking, standing
still, I can't say when or where.

quotes: "Breath by Breath" by Larry Rosenberg

"If we can learn to let the breath unfold naturally, without tampering with it, then in time we might be able to do that with other aspects of our experience: we might learn to let feelings be, let the mind be."

"The instruction is to let it be, to surrender to the breathing. We are learning even in this first instruction the art of surrender, which is central to our Dharma practice."


"When the Buddha is hot, he sweats; when cold, he shivers."
"Sometimes we have the mistaken idea that an enlightened being wouldn’t be subject to such conditions. The Buddha wouldn't notice heat or cold. Actually, almost the opposite is true. He would be aware of them to an extraordinary degree. He would feel all their subtle gradations. But he wouldn't make anything more out of them. They would just be what they are."


- Larry Rosenberg