tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38878470797023155632024-03-05T17:49:42.351+10:00Hellena Post - CreatrixHelena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.comBlogger115125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-30270670351405230192021-08-01T16:57:00.006+10:002021-08-01T17:20:20.328+10:00The Fear Of Death<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You don't have to look very far back in history to find cultures that celebrated and walked eagerly towards death. Mostly due to a full bodied belief in an afterlife and continued evolution after death which is also a birth. And if they weren't walking eagerly towards it, they at least were at peace with it, many cultures around the world practicing a laying out period after death so community and family members could say goodbye, with death being a lot more present and visible in every day life.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Just off the top of my head, I remember reading about Thai monks who laid their dead peers in huts to decay slowly, while they meditated on the process of decomposition. There are so many elaborate and ritualistic burials, from Tibetan sky burials to Indian funeral pyres to Egyptian pyramids to Celtic cairns and mounds to massive Chinese monuments to Viking burials in longboats to the Mexican Day Of The Dead to the Indonesian tribe that enbalm their dead and bring them out for festivals to sea burials practiced by sea folk all over the world to Roman mausoleums and catacombs to Tribal cannibalism...............we've collectively dealt with death in a myriad of ways.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In terms of actively seeking death most especially through battle, we've got the Kamikaze, the Bezerkers, the Celts, the Aztecs, and the Mongols, just to name a few. All diving into the afterlife with strong ideas about the bountiful lands, rewards and loved ones to reconnect with on the other side.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And in our modern day, we have widespread Christianity, Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism, Judaism, Zoroastrianism, and New Ageism, all with their differing theories on death and the afterlife making up a large part of their focus, which gives their faithful peace around death and where they are going. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At least you would hope so!</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But is this the case in our pandemic fear filled days? I can't speak for the non western religions, but as for Christianity and New Ageism in our western world, I'm not seeing a lot of peace around death and the afterlife. I'm seeing a panic and terror leading people to take strong and rigid stances on one side of the fence or the other, and allowing a yawning chasm of a divide to stand between friends, family and communities. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In recent years, we've been led down an angry and divisive path, led by a mainstream media that's tightening their ownership, stranglehold and censorship on the world wide web, and every other form of media they can lay their hands on. We were taken in baby steps, through Climate Change, then the Yes vote, then the Me Too movement, then the Transgender movement, then Black Lives Matter........taking a brief interlude for wildfires to ravage the world, both physically with brutal fires in the Amazon, Australia, America, and many other places you would never think it could happen, and spiritually, with protests happening in just about every country, gaining in strength and momentum, which led to Time magazine proclaiming 2019 the Year Of The Protest........till we arrived at the Pandemic.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">All of these movements - Climate Change, Yes vote, Me too, Transgender, Black Lives Matter and Pandemic - are explosively divisive and full of anger, fear and projection. All of them can sometimes feel like the only conversations being had, no matter where you are in the western world, and often result in statements like </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"If you don't agree with me, you're a total waste of space and breath and unfriend me right now."</span> All create extreme polarity between view points, being either the mainstream belief or 'the other'. Alternative beliefs or Mainstream beliefs that have quickly became lumped in with everything else associated with them, to form an amorphous blob of either Conspiracist or Sheeple. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And whichever of the two you choose to identify with, you are choosing your stance based on loving your family and wanting the best for them, and making the very best decision you can based on your life experience and knowledge. Both sides believe equally they are thinking of the good of other people and trying to save the world. And both sides being completely terrified about the mega scale death they are convinced will ensue, if the other side doesn't listen to 'The Truth'. Which everyone seems to know these days. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Personally, as an adept of Newtons Third Law, of every action having an equal and opposite reaction, as well as of Heraclitus, who proclaimed that every pair of opposites is a unity, as it's the dynamic interplay between the two that sparks evolution and growth........I'm firmly entrenched in the middle ground. From my life experience, most recently bumping into Leukaemia as an organic off grid dweller, I've found that paradox really is the nature of the universe, and truth lays in neither but both extremes being true. The extreme polar ends are both right and wrong, and in acknowledging that, I can take what makes sense to me from both of them to fashion a path forward. I know from experience, that as shit as it gets is also as great as it gets, and that is always going on. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Which of course doesn't mean that I don't get filled with fear and worry and overwhelm at the state of the planet, but coming back to the point I was trying to make at the start, at least I'm not terrified of death. And I'm getting quite good at finding the equal and opposite to it.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I've decided for myself that the best thing I can do in a world that can seem at times overrun with destruction, is to create. So in the spirit of that, here is my visual and word manifesto on Birth, Sex and Death.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/W0czMViVQGs" width="320" youtube-src-id="W0czMViVQGs"></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And here are the words spoken......</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">From the moment we're born, we want to go back. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Back to the womb. Back to our source.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Back to that complete and total feeling of oneness. <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Back to the experience of being inside someone else's skin, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">with them everywhere they go, hearing the noises they hear, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">imbibing their foods and drinks, thoughts and conversations, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">fears and intense life events.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On the inside, cocooned in warm, salty liquid that cushions us from extremes.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The sense of connection with every event, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">sitting sleepy inside, gently bouncing round.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But we are born.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Squeezed by the biggest organ of a woman's body, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">her womb, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">into the world.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In all different ways, all over the planet, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">we die to the womb as we are born to the world.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">How our birth unfolds, the conditions around us, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and the welcome or lack of it that we feel in our first moments,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">are the foundation stones on which we build our lives and self esteem.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Funny how we like to quickly clean up after the great events of life.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Cut that cord and get rid of the placenta,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">wash up the blood, wash the woman, wash the baby,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">wash the sheets and wraps and blankets and pillows and cushions</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">that were birthed on.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Clean away all the smells and colours and textural remembers of birth.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We clean up after sex, the milky substances left behind on sheets,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and on our thighs, and the sweat and sex smell that permeates our skin,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and then get nicely deodorised and sanitised before hitting the public again.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And we clean up after death, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">with the blood and bodily functions that have spilled and left the body</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">just like the spirit, the breath, and the vitality of life have left. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We try to clean up our emotions, our needs, our feelings, our wants, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and our complete and total inner desire to feel that oneness again.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The oneness of birth. The oneness of sex. the oneness of death.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our cultural taboos, and yet the very events that shape us.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Connect us.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Remind us of the great oneness that existed before we were born,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">that exists when we connect with each other inside our skins through sex,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and that we go back to when we die.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A reminder of the big cycles that echo constantly around us.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A process we see through the universe,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">with our seasons, our life cycles, our relationships, our families,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">our ideas, our cultures, our religions.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A process of pregnancy or seed planting,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">then inner growth and building,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">to the great pause and extremity of transition,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">before the birth of a person or thought.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Then the vital life of interconnection,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and the intense moment of sexual communication,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and spiritual realisations,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and the equally intense moments of great illness or mindsets,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">through the cycle to the death of the person or idea or group or period,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">into the uterine depths of seed planting and pregnancy or rebirth again.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A theme mirrored in the water that courses our bodies,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and the fire of sex or spirituality that connects us,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and the planetary bodies that dance their spiral dances,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and the breath of conversations that take us on word journeys......</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A fascination with this sacred trinity persists,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">even in the face of cultural taboos,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">in our great and enlightened culture that seems to thrive on separation.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But in an atmosphere of repression of our great connecting life mysteries,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">birth becomes a fraught event, be it in hospital or home,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and fears come clinging to it like young children afraid of the initiation.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sex becomes a possibly deadly affair,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and manifests too often as young women with shaved bodies, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">bouncing merrily on assorted phalli,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">making a cacophony of unnatural noises</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and imprinting unrealistic and shallow messages on wistful hearts.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Or a tool used in hate and revenge.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Or to capture a person and keep them caged.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And death is a trauma, a wailing, a shudder of darkness at our shoulders,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">threatening to drag us into its eternally dark maw.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">All events that we clean up after,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and sanitise, and deodorise, and create polite conversations around.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Talk in metaphors and simplicities,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">about the complexities that we don't know how to express.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Hoping that if we follow the right rules, prescribe to the 'true' belief systems,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and engage in the correct spiritual practices,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">that they will either go away and bother someone else,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">or wont impinge on our important life,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">of work and cars and mortgages and hobbies and homes</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and clothes and holidays and acquisitions.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">How did we get so far removed from our instinctual, animal,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">spiritual, eternally cyclic, ancient and deeply symbolic selves?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">How have we journeyed so far,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">that we can stand to see birth as a routine event,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and death as an equally regular occurrence on our screens,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">while being horribly scared and avoidant of them in our real lives?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">How can we bear to watch zombie after woman after man after animal</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">being killed on our screens in horrific ways,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and in our books and our stories,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">while we stumble all unknowing into the actual presence of death,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">stuttering and unsure.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">How are we happy to vaguely allude to sex, or only talk about it in extremes, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and voyeuristically watch or read about other people doing it</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">in spectacular fashions,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">while we sneak home to bed with our familiar partner, hiding our real feelings,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and wishing there was a movie star next to us instead?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">How can we be truly alive without the full stop and renewal of </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">death as the accent and boundary that makes it all the sweeter?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And how can we fully embrace birth as the gentle sundering of the oneness,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and journey into multiplicity,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">when it's been packaged and parcelled</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">as a scientific and potentially dangerous event</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">that needs to be dealt with by professionals only?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In our avoidance of the alchemical mysteries </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and oxytocic adventures of birth, sex and death,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">we've strung it about ourselves </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">in unrealistic and gaudy displays like christmas lights,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">hoping we can wear it as a symbol</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">rather than actually tread the subterranean worlds beyond the world </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">that we all practically, sensibly, and scientifically agree is real.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sex has become a circus pony that we drag out to social gatherings</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">to slap on the arse and force to perform.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And take home in the dark to subject to our repressed desires.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Birth has become a feared nemesis to women,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">stalking their carefree moments</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">with the threat of immanent pain and a cacophony of need.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Promising a life of duty and unappreciated work to its penitents.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And death has become the diseased corruption</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">of a twisted society spending all its time and money in an effort to defeat it.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We hope to make sense of it by inundating ourselves with it,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and have instead resulted in numbing to it,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">being afraid of it,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and detaching from it even more instead.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But in a very real way, our sense of connection,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">our oneness, and our source, is where it's always been.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At our fingertips. Entangled through bonding.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Elements of it sprinkled through every interaction we have.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The pregnancy and gestation of a relationship,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">that goes through the intense transition of hardship or fear,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">before birthing into a full bloomed rose </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">of tangled and intermingled tendrils of love and hope.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And can also die, and then be reborn with another person in another time and place.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The birth of our babies, through the intense transition and expulsion into life.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Which also holds a death.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The death of the family as it existed before the new babe,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">the death of the maiden to become the mother,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">the death of the ego as it learns to surrender to the demands of life.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And then there is the death of our loved ones,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">that leaves us with an unconscionable urge to be ALIVE!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To drum up the spirits and the sorryness and the fears and the memories,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and let them float on the rhythm of the heartbeat of life,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and remind ourselves of the things that only life can see,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and hear, and feel, and touch.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It's time for us to stop and really look at each other and ourselves.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To tell each other our experiences as they really are,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">rather than sanitised versions that keep all our real juice and gristle hidden.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To treat each other as if we really were parts of each other,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">until our combined experiences show us that truth.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To pull apart our life knowings and plumb the depths of our authentic experiences</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">till we can really dance and gaze at the realities of</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">birth, life, sex and death.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We are the ones that we've been waiting for,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and the time for us to awaken to our connection is now.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We can get back into the womb of oneness through</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">empathy, compassion, love and respect.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Through seeing the mirrors of oneness in all of creation.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Through the peace we create when we accept all the parts of ourselves.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Through the harmony of love, respect, peace and freedom,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">that we can learn from our families and bonding love.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Through the melting and surrender that we visit in</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">birthing, great sex, intense life experiences, and death.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The time is now.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And you are the microcosm of the macrocosm.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Explore yourself with abandon, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and set sail on the sea of connection......<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-69492218841171394742020-01-31T12:49:00.000+10:002020-01-31T12:49:05.803+10:00A Nimbin Minute<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In December 2013 we had a bit of a special Nimbin day, and I told the story on Facebook, and later got access to the photos of part of the story, and wanted to share the story and them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I was practicing writing short blog posts. They can't all be epics can they?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This was just a normal Nimbin day. Stuff like I described went on in that town every time we visited it. It really is a hotbed of diverse and authentic humanity. And the young woman that we met at the end of the story has gone on to become part of our lives in a very rich way, but that's a whole other story.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So here's the status update I wrote on Friday the 20th of December 2013, and then I'll share the photos, cause I think they're cute, and one of them is one of the few photos we have of us all together!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here goes….</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"I just love Nimbin. For keeps.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Today we went into town for the Christmas Party organised by the Nimbin Neighbourhood and Information Centre. It's the first time I've actually made it, cause the first year here Zarra had just been born, (yes it was his birthday yesterday), and the second year he was only a year old and sleeping, and it was too hot to wake him up and schlep him out. So for the first time, after all the stories, I made it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What a blast! Tables and tables of Nimbins finest and most colourful sat arrayed like sparkly rainbows, eating lovingly prepared food, and three elders on ukelele's serenaded us. New and loved faces all around.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then Santa rocked up in true Nimbin fashion, on a firetruck with a gorgeous elf, throwing lollies to the crowd. And then he trailed to his seat, where he gave all the kids presents, (groovy ones too) and the wild rumpus was on! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The rest of the day was of course spent at the pool, and there were wide ranging chats, and new friendships deepening, and all sorts of Nimbin locals stopping by for a yarn, while the kids splashed and played.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And then on the way home, we stopped in at the Emporium for last minute supplies, and got stopped on the way by Anna and a friend, with a unique proposition. This gorgeous young womans lover was away on a trip in New York, and rather than the same old love letters sent between them, she wanted to stretch the parameters. So she had a poem that he'd created and written it on paper, and was asking people who exemplified love to hold the sheets with his poem, so she could take photos of them, and send him a love letter photo collage of his heart felt poem. She got us all arrayed on the bull bar of Flo the Coaster, holding the sheets of poem in front of us, and then took one of just me and Currawong on the step of our bus. And a bit of a crowd rocked up to oooh and ahhh bout the crazy family posed for a photo. She'd spent the day taking photos with people who Anna introduced her to, Anna being the perfect person for the job, cause she's so well connected on a heart level with so many folk in town.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Love it. Wasn't that just the coolest thing to be involved in to top off a perfect Nimbin day??"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I like her description of this one. She said - </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Meet Currawong and Hellena….</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Gypsy love birds….</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Adventuring artists….</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Nurturing guides to their seven bright eyed little ones….</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That's a Merlin top left, Spiral-Moon top right, and Balthazar at the bottom</span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz9oz7UtuARMSiBLwqqwzgo2Bqg7h4ICHmydHLcslJxRUlxFK9Y-lMUh_nJAbTP-Ceg7mJF-bydoKc2tX6pZap5QpNRSkUg3xUvDOxkh9LQp6gGRFgN-_HadlUK0rrbz1lgLXvgnn7NRgZ/s1600/1477358_10152062352594330_705513379_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz9oz7UtuARMSiBLwqqwzgo2Bqg7h4ICHmydHLcslJxRUlxFK9Y-lMUh_nJAbTP-Ceg7mJF-bydoKc2tX6pZap5QpNRSkUg3xUvDOxkh9LQp6gGRFgN-_HadlUK0rrbz1lgLXvgnn7NRgZ/s640/1477358_10152062352594330_705513379_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lotus babies Balthazar and Spiral-Moon</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Look how much they've grown. That's me holding Zarra, my gorgeous Currawong next to me, Lilly in the middle, and Max, Mr B, and Spiral at the bottom</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And check this out!! All in one photo!!! From top left, Lilly, Max, Merlin, Spiral, and me holding Zarra. Then there's Griffyn, Currawong and Balthazar down the bottom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I really do miss Nimbin. And how bright and alive and helpful and useful we felt, just to be a part of it. I don't think we'll make it back there, as housing is impossible, and all our potential places to stay didn't work out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But oh was it was fun at the time.</span></div>
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-29657949885268499912020-01-30T11:22:00.000+10:002020-01-30T11:22:41.563+10:00TUFT (Temporary Utopian Fibre Temple) presents Metamorphostick <div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">People have been calling me an artist for years, but it was only last year that I actually felt like one. I'm definitely a craftsperson, and have certainly passed through my initiation and apprenticeship in my self taught guild, and moved through practitioner to Mistress of my chosen craft. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqS657aBRcr8Ytg39mA97i3uEWVwl2gBFbkeSk1KkABLOxLiRTIvYTqkaM-yBZ5WBdlVQJphN9qAwQWz2WyrygjTg148WY1P9f8j6BHt1YTcPQzXNW-YePWCGzXZ6A9t-3ZzX4fF9SYfHM/s1600/1506278_10207777617905672_2448047445711934421_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqS657aBRcr8Ytg39mA97i3uEWVwl2gBFbkeSk1KkABLOxLiRTIvYTqkaM-yBZ5WBdlVQJphN9qAwQWz2WyrygjTg148WY1P9f8j6BHt1YTcPQzXNW-YePWCGzXZ6A9t-3ZzX4fF9SYfHM/s400/1506278_10207777617905672_2448047445711934421_o.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But deep down I always kinda thought of myself as a talented crafts person, who created techniques and creations that were certainly artistic, but easily replicatable, thereby more fitting with the crafts person persona. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvPGnDDiBU64lnbbP7S5Y9jJ9BjmlGNKTQwYj1yRk1uID7MneZ5F6c1cKx4yPigbRtqckOjD3zGbudEUM0dBz9zouFJ7zklO0GSKZtF_WzXxJEbz40bkF0KsauhNL4ncGcHwnhq11tnaF/s1600/DSC01419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvPGnDDiBU64lnbbP7S5Y9jJ9BjmlGNKTQwYj1yRk1uID7MneZ5F6c1cKx4yPigbRtqckOjD3zGbudEUM0dBz9zouFJ7zklO0GSKZtF_WzXxJEbz40bkF0KsauhNL4ncGcHwnhq11tnaF/s400/DSC01419.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp10ed5Kygok87-wQcVvL45wpQOz7LBlYkBGYGN_1Ke1-8bF4q3HBs-lmSU5mtcgV-NrzjO7cBi6kA0xWE-UCV1ZAe0Nf90fnfnQEXhYYBN5L5_2i4tirTx8YX7AGZ_qQj19iyk2HCpmtC/s1600/DSC02073+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1434" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp10ed5Kygok87-wQcVvL45wpQOz7LBlYkBGYGN_1Ke1-8bF4q3HBs-lmSU5mtcgV-NrzjO7cBi6kA0xWE-UCV1ZAe0Nf90fnfnQEXhYYBN5L5_2i4tirTx8YX7AGZ_qQj19iyk2HCpmtC/s400/DSC02073+2.JPG" width="357" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Even so, I rarely made the same thing twice, and found orders and commissions odious, so I could see the two - craftsperson and artist - coexisting in a harmonious way.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw3OcnC3kl2V_3ziQ9XnNcqiyyLFsQfGfTJNn6EUZJ4up4SGKU3C-GZvM4_uAmyrP_3XFoKMA_bbZjPoG4BX4SWaT_PRuuGcwvMn13qPe_zDjBy7Y7s_yICDyiAGxVH0QBKeZTMerfWyo3/s1600/IMG_0371.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw3OcnC3kl2V_3ziQ9XnNcqiyyLFsQfGfTJNn6EUZJ4up4SGKU3C-GZvM4_uAmyrP_3XFoKMA_bbZjPoG4BX4SWaT_PRuuGcwvMn13qPe_zDjBy7Y7s_yICDyiAGxVH0QBKeZTMerfWyo3/s400/IMG_0371.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But the year after Merlin got sick, I got caught up in an art rash, that could only be itched by creating the ideas coming through me, and following the simple path before me, of a crystaline concept that was the outcome, with convoluted stepping stones along the way. Inspiration just grabbed me and made me follow without asking questions. The visiting muse or genie was strong felt around me, working through my fingers and dancing as visions. I used all the skills I'd learnt to craft me a palette, from crochet hooks to wooden weaving needles, </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">to the hand dyed fleeces created by my man, </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">to the spinning and translating of what the yarn wanted to become. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Paradoxically, this was also a year of great and deep sadness and constant worry, as my Merlin was in the process of losing his hair and undergoing treatment for Leukaemia. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Cwt30mS_9h_E61ounu8pSCANLKo_33rQWLK1GKIqm4OH4CXbk6YbBgmm7SKpbv3plWhiJJJRc3ZsIagnXDh8HlV2ryfyM-yTOV0miqQDG8Gn3oJrmhd5iCZTgObhO8yFgRbblaYfdCEr/s1600/DSC02851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="999" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Cwt30mS_9h_E61ounu8pSCANLKo_33rQWLK1GKIqm4OH4CXbk6YbBgmm7SKpbv3plWhiJJJRc3ZsIagnXDh8HlV2ryfyM-yTOV0miqQDG8Gn3oJrmhd5iCZTgObhO8yFgRbblaYfdCEr/s400/DSC02851.JPG" width="247" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was coming to terms with my upturned beliefs about western medicine, and searching out an integrated path with alternative medicine, and it was a stark and bright lit new world that felt like I'd never get used to it. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXxg-FngAT5PFVuuSFPdEjfZyUZtXmLdyuc7G_l757aldv5UC320o2Jf9zm91ckvbZaoSQN2XGLTAJKW2sa5eV4m48rKkPV_EXl_pK7DnjiS1C2Fxor7LdzFjoy4Nzm_QQ8hbkqaspTVdZ/s1600/DSC03212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXxg-FngAT5PFVuuSFPdEjfZyUZtXmLdyuc7G_l757aldv5UC320o2Jf9zm91ckvbZaoSQN2XGLTAJKW2sa5eV4m48rKkPV_EXl_pK7DnjiS1C2Fxor7LdzFjoy4Nzm_QQ8hbkqaspTVdZ/s320/DSC03212.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There were so many rivers of tears and fears washing over me regularly. What were the rules in this new world? What would be left of my old one? </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQzxQ5Hn4LA0MWLGlsMWe35S8_01-jS5d3KHF-yrIwOjaY6ouy4q1oYNxyjN3I59YDWc7zTSX0mcnHhxcetUv0WiSPrAHJBIkqnb7Bvj4wjsN4xajNdDSLgDM-XXF7R4m0IR8ZgHe3fTrT/s1600/safe_image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="238" data-original-width="376" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQzxQ5Hn4LA0MWLGlsMWe35S8_01-jS5d3KHF-yrIwOjaY6ouy4q1oYNxyjN3I59YDWc7zTSX0mcnHhxcetUv0WiSPrAHJBIkqnb7Bvj4wjsN4xajNdDSLgDM-XXF7R4m0IR8ZgHe3fTrT/s400/safe_image.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The floor had dropped out from beneath me, and I'd had to stare death in the face. Death as powerful and significant as Birth. One of our collectives greatest fears and taboos. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It very much felt like the art rash upon me, was very definitely the equal and opposite of the great sadness that almost swallowed me. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI63VReHpAt2CrAlG5XXrRR-LIm6Zz5uUbBr8oOIfdg5qGcoVB7JpXGwWgH3C40eLUIxABdBUzSi1Jj3a08cqdwgKe_tEeJSu23G6CGzjO9KH57QjGAWKzeMM1d8NiK66iStqqNmzy0DYT/s1600/DSC03190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI63VReHpAt2CrAlG5XXrRR-LIm6Zz5uUbBr8oOIfdg5qGcoVB7JpXGwWgH3C40eLUIxABdBUzSi1Jj3a08cqdwgKe_tEeJSu23G6CGzjO9KH57QjGAWKzeMM1d8NiK66iStqqNmzy0DYT/s400/DSC03190.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the making and following the genie process, was definitely the meditation and self therapy I needed at the time to calm and center myself, and keep being strong and enabling the biggest cure for my Merlin, alongside his integrated medicines, which was simply being as happy as we could all help him to be, and to laugh lots. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6P9cv5UuRZuR20QYAMWvxjhlnfRXsVjgCzWMmSNds9VjCK4Fr-XwQnASkTJWHhM3SUJdmK6WrPD40OK8la1vycnkj5D9i_NOpwE-Tfq-erCeGkDzJliFN1jIUEarqzhalda07-MBBmMKS/s1600/IMG_0406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6P9cv5UuRZuR20QYAMWvxjhlnfRXsVjgCzWMmSNds9VjCK4Fr-XwQnASkTJWHhM3SUJdmK6WrPD40OK8la1vycnkj5D9i_NOpwE-Tfq-erCeGkDzJliFN1jIUEarqzhalda07-MBBmMKS/s400/IMG_0406.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So the first 'artwork' to emerge, where I stayed up late at night, and crept down first thing in the morning, in an almost urgent desire to see the idea that had visited my mind, was the Metamorphostick. A large and magnificent stick that had fallen in our suburban back yard beckoned to me from over by the fence, until I finally brought it out the front of my studio on the grass, and whittled back the bark and the knots to see the skeleton underneath. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then the sanding and oiling, and it was brought inside and hung from the rafters where I started off applying wire prosthetic branches and twigs. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It got a curled possum tail and wool pods and flowers, and has raw alpaca peeking from the wrapping at either side, suggesting a fibre metamorphosis of the wood, the fibre changing the branch with its touch. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I made a big ceremonial wrap out of a few different dye pots of green processed tops, that were gifted from the beautiful Faith, who with her daughter Amber brought us earth magic in the first weeks of our hospital stay. It seemed the perfect energy to hang from my transforming stick.</span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was the first time I truly felt like I was using my handspun yarns as a palette, shading the twigs and branches, and like I was applying the skills I'd taught myself in a Mistress like manner. Mistressing my craft. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I liked it so much I kept going, and my fibre muse very kindly kept visiting, and the next creation to birth was the Labyrinth. An idea that had been tempting me for a while, but which finally actuated in a glorious way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">TO BE CONTINUED.........</span></div>
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-86480747029306054342019-05-14T17:34:00.000+10:002019-05-14T17:47:02.220+10:00Merlin's Quest<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I keep moving away from this blog, and then coming back, realising that this blog here is about the closest thing I've got to an actual audience these days. I did have a few blog posts that I put up on my web page, but like a lot of my fabulous ideas, just creating stuff is only half of the creative process. Getting that stuff 'out there' to an audience, is a completely different matter! And not something I'm fantastic at. So rather than leave a few isolated posts over there where nobody looks, I'm bringing them back home to my blog here. They do represent a most intense part of my life, so they belong here. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And when I've finished updating here, I've got some stories to tell about my creative journey over the last couple of years.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But for now, this is a post that I published elsewhere on February the 6th, 2017, called 'Merlin's Quest'.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Merlin's Quest - Feb 6 2017</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">2016 was a huge year for the Little Big Mob. After finally getting away from either being pregnant or breastfeeding for the first time in over a decade, I was going nuts with my creativity especially in its aspect of meditation and therapy, and making wood, wire, raw fleece and spun yarn sculptures of trees and snails and horses and puppy dogs, getting heavily involved in the Weave And Mend Festival out at Djanbung Gardens, and starting up a Stitch And Enrich every Saturday morning at Blue Knob Farmers market. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Every Wednesday while Currawong was managing the Nimbin Farmers market in the afternoon, I was post hole digging and building garden beds in Mingle Park with whoever from the community chose to turn up and help me create a self organised Community Garden. I also made some sculptures and a Labyrinth. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">A beautiful and talented photo journalist Michelle Eabry, was taking photos of me spinning and weaving, to do a piece and possible exhibition and web directory, of local and sustainable fibre talent in our region. I was in the middle of bringing together a stunningly talented group of women to form Nimbins own Spinners and Weavers Guild, and we were planning gardens of a rare cotton breed we're propogating, along with other natural animal and plant fibres, also with plans of getting a mill to process it all, and creating a local Cottage Industry. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">For a long time now our family has operated under the philosophy of living simply so that others can simply live, and greatfully accepting government payments so that our family can stay together, rather than having to break ourselves up to earn money elsewhere. In return we give as much of our time as we can to our broader community. I liked to say we were Market Schooling, being involved in three weekly Farmers Markets as well as our Nimbin Monthly Market. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Currawong was also picking up the food for Nimbin Co-op from Lismore Farmers Market every Tuesday, and at all these markets our kids were forming relationships with other homeschoolers, farmers, artists, and passionate community members. I also like to call us Hippy Wombles, making good use of what other people leave behind, and we fully Wombled out living next to Blue Knob Gallery and Cafe in a mostly furnished house, and affordable long term rent with labour exchange thrown in. It was a fully beautiful house too.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Virtually all our clothing was handmade or handed down from local families who loved us, and knew there was a lot of us to clothe. And just about all our food was local and sustainable, we knew where it came from, and it was extremely affordable, as it was boosted by our labour and stallholders giving the Little Big Mob their produce that they'd rather give away, than take home at the end of the day. Our kids barely owned shoes, hardly ever saw doctors, and we were non vaccinating, alternative medicine seeking, close to the earth living, old fashioned Earth Punk Hippies. All the big kids were in the process of going to a <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null">Rewild</a> earth knowledge course on the weekends, at the same place where the yearly homeschool camps were happening, and we were in contact with a large and thriving homeschooling community.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Then Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia, or ALL found us.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">When Leukaemia knocked on our door, we thought we were in the middle of treating an intense reaction to the two ticks that had bitten our 6 year old Merlin, one of the twins, within two weeks. We were treating it alternatively with natural remedies and reflexology, and he'd pick up hugely after treatments, but go back down again too. One night his heart hurt from palpitations, so we took him to Nimbin Medical Centre, where we were sent straight to Lismore Hospital - I've never seen emergency staff move so quick - and diagnosed quite quickly on the 10th of the 10th 2016. I'll never forget that date. As it was explained to me, if a body needed 100% of red and white blood cells, along with platelets.......he was at 5% for all of them. Coming very close to organ failure most likely. Not ticks at all. It took me a little while for that first huge paradigm shift to sink in. In a funny kind of way the ticks did us a favour, by getting him sick and in hospital at a favourable time for the type he had.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">We were raced up to Brisbane after two transfusions, lights flashing, straight to Lady Cilento Children's Hospital, and from the amazing and dedicated staff at Lismore, to the two women ambulance drivers, to each and every one of the staff I came across at Lady Cilentos, I noticed this earnest tendancy in all of them, once they'd noted my alternativeness, and newbie status in Cancer Land, to tell me everything in their power that they could think of, to prepare me for what was coming. The empathy and compassion of folk that seek out these healing modalities, or work closely to support them, are some of the most amazing people that I've ever met. They were so gentle with me. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Currawong had to stay with the rest of the children which was an equally intense journey, but from the start, it was me and Merlin, and I realised quickly that it was up to me to make this extreme path we were on as good as I could. And very quickly I came to think that I'd had as much judgement about who got cancer and why, and how I would react to that situation, as I'd had about caesareans, and who got them and why, which were judgements that I'd had to face, challenge and humble within myself, when I had my 5th birth as a caesarean. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">From life experience, mainly from the intense bits and births, I knew the best way to ride this roller coaster was to be greatfull for the gentle earth angels placed along our road, indeed to everyone for their time and energy, and to surrender. There was nothing I could do about what we were given to deal with, but everything I could do about how I handled it, for Merlins sake. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Nonetheless, it was a massive paradigm shift on every level as you may appreciate. In many ways I felt like Daniel going into the Lions Den of Big Pharma. And had to very quickly wrap my head around what was going on, and how to approach it. The first few days were spent getting his blood counts back up to somewhere near normal, as well as his platelettes, and getting a port-a-cath put in just under his shoulder bone, close to his heart, so as not to burn out his veins with chemotherapy. And his first Lumbar Puncture and spinal chemotherapy were given within three days of the start date. The night before his first chemo was the longest and darkest night of my soul in my living memory, and after talking long and deep to Currawong, I messaged everyone I knew and trusted, my beloved facebook Brain Hive, from Ayurvedic Masseurs, to Osteopaths, to Naturopaths, to Acupuncturists, to just about every alternative path you can imagine, as well as Oncology Nurses, and Western Medicine Practitioners as well, and asked them if there was any alternative. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">And at 5.30 in the morning, at that incredibly alone moment, my accupuncturist asked me to please ring her, feeling how freaked out I was. In response to my pleas for an alternative, she said "Darling, there's no other cure for leukaemia in children, maybe for different things, but not for this, and you are in the very best place you could be to heal your child. There is magic all around us sweetheart, and modern western medicine is magic in it's own way when it's needed, and this is certainly one of those times." I was sobbing to her, "But we're going to destroy the immune system that I grew in my body, and that I fed with my breastmilk" and she replied very directly with "And the immune system that is going to kill him......." There was no reply to that one. How could there be really? She said all the things I needed to hear, from someone who I trusted deeply from my own physical experience, and she helped me deal with my reality. And I'm incredibly fortunate in that all the people I trust and asked for advice on this journey from my alternative world, echoed this opinion, and supported us in the path we took. Along with advice about bits and pieces from natural medicine and alternative energetic work that didn't impede the progress of destroying the leukaemia cells in his body. We collectively came up with the metaphor of hitting the reset button on his immune system. Destroying it so we could build a better one. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">I fell off the horse a few times, but always got back on again quick enough, helped by the extreme empathy of the staff, from Cleaners to Specialists, who accepted me for who I was, and went to great measures to offer an Integrated Approach, bringing together the best options between Alternative and Western Medicine - after discussion - so that everyone was validated for their personal values. As well as being gently informed, that with a healing rate of 98% for the protocol we were going through, with this hospital connected with hundreds of others throughout America and Europe and their collective experiences, that if we chose to withdraw Merlin from the hospital and their healing plan, they would go to court to remove him from our care. It almost feels disloyal saying that, given the deep and affectionate relationships that were being formed in our rapidly growing new community. But it is the stark reality of the situation.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">I learnt, and so did a whole bunch of other alternative friends and community round the country, that leukaemia doesn't discriminate. It doesn't matter what you do, how you live, and what protective diets and behaviours you employ.........cancer hits everyone, regardless of all age and social distinctions. A massive cross section of every available cultural group is represented and goes through that hospital. A great humbling and challenge to connect despite differences. I've met some of the most inspiring and super hero like people in there, than I've ever met before. The Captain Starlight workers, who bring smiles to the darkest places you can imagine. With songs about booger, grass and pineapple thickshakes. The volunteers who work hard all day, and then come in at night to play with my sore and sad son, letting him take them on the playing journey he came to know and love involving a pop dice game and plasticene. The nurses who listened to me at 2am in the morning pour out my anguish, questions and tears while he was asleep. The doctors who cared as much for my little boy as they cared about their own children, and cried with us in our deepest moments of pain for what we were watching him go through. The other parents and children, and how they cope, and weather the storms with their own communities support around them. The caterers and cleaners who did special little things to acknowledge and love us, one even brought us in hand made sausage rolls for Merlins cravings, with ingredients from his garden. <span style="font-style: normal;">Some of the most amazing people I've ever been priveleged to meet.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">And our son, Mr Merlin Radbod Post, twin of Maxamillion Hercules Post, both born in such an amazing manner that it launched me into international homebirthing and blogging fame.......is the most incredible kid I've ever been honoured to care for in such a huge way. In fact the only one. Our first week and a half was fairly standard for standard risk Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia, we even got released to Ronald McDonald house for 4 days, as we hadn't quite got organised with a house to move into close to hospital yet. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">On the 4th day out, we walked a lot, signing the lease for our house in inner suburban Brisbane 5kms from hospital, overlooking horses in a large series of paddocks and with a rainwater tank, and Merlin complained after that his leg hurt. When he woke up in the middle of the night not able to walk, I had the sinking feeling that we were going back into hospital, and I was right. In one day he had his port-a-cath accessed by a needle for the first time, got an x-ray, ultrasound, MRI, intravenous chemotherapy, and a hip operation..........and didn't complain once, and INSISTED on moving himself slowly but surely from hospital bed to examination bed, even holding onto a wee for 40 minutes during the MRI, with a foam form resting on his bladder, and modestly waiting till privacy and a hospital bottle to finally evacuate. I told him the complete truth from the beginning, and told him that I'd only ever force him to do something if I absolutely had to, and he met all his challenges with logic and reason, and a great and developing love of all the staff that he dealt with, as much as they came to love him. He impressed me so much with his stoic nature, that we all agreed to change his name by Deed Poll to Merlin Stoic Radbod Post, when this whole process is over. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">He actually responded really well to the actual chemotherapy, with a few ulcers right in the beginning that didn't really impede his eating and cleared up quickly, but overall he got healthier the more blood, platelets, and chemotherapy he got. It was just the side effects that were bastards. We were admitted back into hospital with a candida infection in his hip joint, that ended up requiring three operations of hip washouts to fix, along with an intense and rare case of kidney stones that were actually sludge - the remnants of dead leukaemia cells building up and creating a huge amount of pain to pass. To fix the kidney stones we needed to pump massive amounts of fluid through his body, which caused him to swell up almost as big as Augustus Gloop in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. And also had a really adverse reaction on the hip infection that was prone to too much fluid. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">And the whole time he was virtually the picture perfect patient, loving of and loved by the staff, and the teachers from the Lady Cilentos school, and the visitors that came, from loved Nimbin community, to old church friends, to new Brisbane friends, to an amazing 80 year old Buddhist Monk and his entourage who continues to this day to blow our minds, to all the other amazing people that showed up in our lives as the Equal and Opposite to the dramatic turn that our life had taken. And then when we were just about ready to go to our new home in the inner city, our eldest son Griffyn got chicken pox, and went into quarantine under the house in his basement man cave, and we had to wait 21 days to see if he had passed it onto the other kids or not. Merlin and I were put in isolation too, as we definitely couldn't be exposed to it or expose other people - it was almost very fortunate that we'd been in hospital when it hit - and it looked for a little while like not even Currawong and I could see each other. We were devestated. We missed each other already so much, after never having been parted more than a few days in our entire 17 years of hot blooded love. As we both had natural immunity from getting measles as children, after a few days isolation we at least could see each other again, but our fractured family was feeling anxious.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">All in all, from the moment we walked out of our old house on the 10th of the 10th 2016, till we finally got to move into our new home and be reunited with the rest of the Little Big Mob, was 7 weeks and 2 days. The weirdest part about that, was moving into a house full of my family and donated possessions, and feeling like a complete stranger to it. While we were in hospital the rest of the mob had been taken under the wing of the local Catholic community through St Vinnies being contacted, and asked to help out with furniture. A local volunteer for Vinnies was coming round regularly to bring furniture, clothes vouchers, bags of Bakers Delights seconds, and anything else she could think of to help. We got out just in time for Christmas, and to everyones delight, we were gifted a Christmas tree and decorations, along with splendidly wrapped presents for everyone including 'mother' and 'father', and the cats and dog!! Also food vouchers and gift vouchers, and presents so good that you would have thought we'd all been interviewed to assess the perfect gift for the individuals. All from generous patrons of St Vinnies and its extended community. Another large amount of judgements faced, challenged and humbled. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">And in a kinda delicious irony, Senior Constable David Henderson, who some of our friends back in Nimbin are on the alleged wrong side of, took a personal interest in our families story after reading about it on facebook, and felt touched by it as a father of 5 himself, and sent us up an awesome present for Merlin wrapped in Christmas paper and Police bunting, along with some other pressies for the rest of the mob, a lovely card and letter, and some groovy police paraphenalia. I reckon we must have been the only hippies from Nimbin around, with a present from a Senior Constable wrapped in police bunting under our tree :) More judgements gone. All our family agreed it was our best Christmas ever.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">So with our amazing Christmas, with presents wrapped in actual paper instead of the pillowslips I normally 'wrap' them in, along with the school attached to the hospital that our kids are really loving attending, (and we are too, as it's the perfect halfway mark between homeschooling and school, with incredibly compassionate and flexible staff), and our lovely old Queenslander house, overlooking horses in paddocks, and with a lovely big pool as part of our rent, where we can have our cats and dog as well, and all the amazing people who have turned up, it's been a massive and tumultuous Roller Coaster of a ride. And at the moment anyway, is well and truly achieving our goal of making this experience as positive as we can for everyone in our family. We're aiming for having this time in our memories as a largely positive experience, despite the tradgedy of leukaemia in one so young. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Not only leukaemia hit us, but two of our dear personal friends also died during this time, one of them an old friend from South Australia who was running our Nimbin Market music stage, and another the mother of 4 of the most gorgeous children we've ever met. That hit hard. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">And then supposed 'friends' of ours decided they'd move into our house while we were away, moved everything around, chucked a whole heap out, took what they wanted and shoved the rest under the house or stacked badly on my studio things, and bluffed their way through making a total mess of the place for a few months. I've also been perimenopausal the whole time. Lucky me. And there's been a lot of adjusting to do with family relationships both in our inner family and our extended biological family. Unfortunately old family dramas reared their ugly heads at the worst possible time with my biological family, triggering nasty old patterns, and proving tricky to overcome, but we're starting to get used to big downs to the ups. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">As you might imagine, all of this has led to a great Questioning of Everything. Landing us deeply in the world of Ultimate Paradox. Everything Known has become Unknown. Everything up for Renewed Assessment. A curious side effect for me personally, has been a massive triggering of my Complex PTSD. The complex bit is the extremely creative imagination that I've been using all my life really, to whitewash my often ghastly reality growing up especially, with a complete renovation of my external world, turning shit things into something good. A handy and necessary survival skill in essence, that I've employed heavily throughout my life. But with this extreme life experience, all my skills and limited supply of whitewash are needed for this journey with Merlin, and there's just not enough for the rest of the world, and a lot of my whitewash has faded, leaving the skeletons of some fairly dysfunctional relationships bare, and with not enough left to refresh the coat. I was going to go to psychotherapy to help me sort the fabricated from the real reality, and there's no need now. Without my whitewash it's clear. Our lives have forever changed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">So we've got to stay close to Lady Cilentos for at least the next 3 months, as we were told we must for the first 6 months, and most intensive parts of his chemotherapy treatment. But for the next three years all up of his leukaemia healing process, we have to be close to a major hospital for his normal chemo, and visiting Lady Cilentos in Brisbane every month or so, and if any complications happen again, we'll be sent straight back up here. After the first 2 months of chemotherapy, all the leukaemia cells left his body, and the rest of the protocol is making sure it stays away. It's like the first few months destroyed the weeds, and now we're spraying regularly to keep them gone. He's not to swim in public pools, only private ones or the sea or running creeks or rivers, and he has to stay out of the sun, maybe for the rest of his life, so we've become adept at juggling rainbow umbrellas around him everywhere we go, as a family sport. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-style: normal;">We have to do our best to protect him from all viruses, funguses, and bacterial infections as we destroy his immune system to build him a better one, so going out in crowded public places, where he can be coughed or sneezed on, is to be avoided. We've also made a massive paradigm shift in matters of shoe wearing and personal hygeine, as he can't touch the soil for the next three years, and we now have cupboards stocked full of cleaning products, and I've been known to chase him round with water free hand sanitiser, along with the rest of the mob. He can't eat takeaways unless they've been made fresh, he can't go near cut flowers, and all in all the changes in our lives have been massive and absolute.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">You may appreciate that being away from all those markets and our networks, not to mention our affordable rental situation, has taken us away from existing happily and sustainably to overextending ourselves a huge amount. There are many support networks like the Red Kite Foundation, and the Starlight Foundation, and social workers within the hospital helping us out hugely, but the price of feeding our mob from supermarkets for a start, including buying water as we're all used to living on rainwater, not to mention the cost of accessing alternative treatments, as well as paying what we can for the chemotherapy along the way, is a challenge. We've also had to take out a loan and buy a car to drive around the city in, as our daily driver back home - the massive pink, red and purple camoflague painted Toyota Coaster - just wasn't going to be practical for driving round the city in. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Rent is double what we were paying back home, but we're so greatful for the pool in this heat. A dear friend raised money in the beginning as a fundraiser, and our local community back in Nimbin has been, and continues, to give through a series of jars in shops for local donations, created by our beloved friend. And another dear friend is thinking up everything she can to raise money, like a dinner out together with friends and a cover charge as the fundraiser.</span></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-style: normal;">All this has helped us out so much, but we've still got a long way to go, and are getting a bit daunted by finances as we come up to car registration time. We explained to the guy we bought it off sight unseen what our situation was, and he promised there were no surprises, but unfortunately he was dishonest, and there was. A lot of the clothes that were handed down to us back home, are just not really appropriate for city life and going to school, so we're having to source new clothes and shoes. I'm pulling out all the stops I can to try and turn my meditation and therapy of spinning and weaving into an online business, and in the process of writing out this story in more detail as a book to help with fundraising, but we could use some help. If you have it that is. We're also reinvigorating our old and hardy dream of starting up a Studio/Gallery and Fibre Retail shop, anywhere in the zones where we can easily access our hospital.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Our entire lives have just been picked up, spun around quite a few dizzying times, and then put down again, facing which direction we're not completely sure of yet. All we know is that we're alive, with a good chance of us all staying that way, and together. And that old Law of the Equal and Opposite reaction is dancing a merry dance in our lives at this time in particular. In such extremities, the only acronym I can come up with that truly describes how we're traveling, is Everything's Fucked And Fantastic. EFAF. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;">And in equal measures.</span></span></span></div>
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-77973615974246460002018-08-07T12:37:00.000+10:002019-05-11T12:16:11.721+10:00Urban Paradise<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">One of the very best equal and opposite parts, of the trauma of finding out that <a href="https://www.hellenapost.com/single-post/2017/02/06/Merlins-Quest" target="_blank">one of our children has Leukaemia</a>, has been the fibre arting that's come out of me, through my personal process of making as meditation and therapy. Along with so many other things and people of course, but this bit has been my favourite part of the physical and metaphysical ramifications of <a href="https://www.livescience.com/46561-newton-third-law.html" target="_blank">Newtons Third Law</a>. I've made a hand spun, three dimensional, three circuit Labyrinth hung from two juxtaposed 7 pointed stars.......</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5T-9BCHGERDbWHTYddZujNtLi_D2PVe7VmmB79FprCSPnNVfPp99f7tf1iZ3MiuZdH-JKG2M9UPg0U7ECi4mig8cGsTIIPnI24X95hA5xq_BR8sEVfVhiKbIekUQDUVwzX-mtrXvCdR6U/s1600/28514921_10213699037457460_6838531803626900864_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5T-9BCHGERDbWHTYddZujNtLi_D2PVe7VmmB79FprCSPnNVfPp99f7tf1iZ3MiuZdH-JKG2M9UPg0U7ECi4mig8cGsTIIPnI24X95hA5xq_BR8sEVfVhiKbIekUQDUVwzX-mtrXvCdR6U/s640/28514921_10213699037457460_6838531803626900864_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Metamorphostick......</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEBIYQbNlGaGZAkd610t5Ho7TV1jlbwhLb9ybzXA3PXZjJy1FXkeeulkC6-jAA1Mw6tV8XXQx_HturWyDturrLK-rVtZ4KSQYLB_jYLATWFPRTlIsqLxRvOaTSYw9b-fjT3UDHw5cBiv_v/s1600/IMG_0687.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1595" data-original-width="1600" height="636" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEBIYQbNlGaGZAkd610t5Ho7TV1jlbwhLb9ybzXA3PXZjJy1FXkeeulkC6-jAA1Mw6tV8XXQx_HturWyDturrLK-rVtZ4KSQYLB_jYLATWFPRTlIsqLxRvOaTSYw9b-fjT3UDHw5cBiv_v/s640/IMG_0687.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Spiderweb Spiral Shower......</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqh_2T_yZyrEVA8k1eag9Bdk34Pt-Yvlq20ybLwFtvTKn5IgUeKoaUgnQVnYssHizv0ccBYukmMaKH4vek6mBGrwVvSqqjSGzbZv3cGV-JalHXGo0OnxbMw3ys40sOS2W84rDjXneA4SZt/s1600/IMG_0099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqh_2T_yZyrEVA8k1eag9Bdk34Pt-Yvlq20ybLwFtvTKn5IgUeKoaUgnQVnYssHizv0ccBYukmMaKH4vek6mBGrwVvSqqjSGzbZv3cGV-JalHXGo0OnxbMw3ys40sOS2W84rDjXneA4SZt/s640/IMG_0099.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the Willy Pilly. Inspired while watching a documentary about the Bespoke movement in Australia, where a woman at a market was making 'cunt cushions', and had just sold them all to a busload of lesbians. When asked about why she made them, she mentioned something like "Well you couldn't make cushions out of PENISES!" with a look of disdain and distaste on her face. And in my head I was like, 'Game ON!', and a few months later the idea came together while talking to a beloved friend at West End Markets. It's my love letter to the cock, most especially the one belonging to the love and lust of my life, Currawong. This is it in the process of becoming.....</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSfw2QIhOv7fdb0kaZ5mVHW837AxnpWxPP589RgGGsMc8DT8Rty7W9bxoeGWhPExu4gadUTc78nWdb4iEj_X3D3INxOEu8gpo_IaV9DhjwIrWdivj6G2yqWpGXuUKwYKYpWe6lDpRn8jy1/s1600/IMG_0072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1290" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSfw2QIhOv7fdb0kaZ5mVHW837AxnpWxPP589RgGGsMc8DT8Rty7W9bxoeGWhPExu4gadUTc78nWdb4iEj_X3D3INxOEu8gpo_IaV9DhjwIrWdivj6G2yqWpGXuUKwYKYpWe6lDpRn8jy1/s640/IMG_0072.jpg" width="515" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Now in all my 16 years of self taught fibre crafting and traveling and arting, I've had some rather negative experiences (interspersed with great ones) with other artists and galleries and the art scene in general. Which have led to extraordinary epiphanies as the equal and opposite to them, but have left me tending to create my own scene, rather than jump into any established one, and hang out at markets instead. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Until the other month, when we were parking near our hospital, and noticed that the building I'd driven past multiple times dreaming about what a groovy art gallery it would make, had indeed become an art gallery. Called <a href="https://urbanparadise-gallery.com/author/urbanparadisegallery/" target="_blank">Urban Paradise</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> We decided to go and have a look, and were welcomed and given cups of tea by the delightful <a href="https://fredericberjot.com/about/" target="_blank">Fred Berjot,</a> director of the 'not for profit, artists run initiative serving the "outsider artists"'. A warmer welcome I'd not had into any gallery. And a better description of this Friesian anarchist I couldn't even hope for. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpoS64Z2gjNB6tQbWwR_y9z4MtT6EcatjqgNQRmbdpIeO2FbIFbGzsy978SCcBzAcT5qE8l09TK-o4Fz8rAu9du3tPa2bA2m6ZYwp52S-hik7ihMHRUOv02HvqBG8g7pH8n44LRl_0tNrb/s1600/https%25253A%25252F%25252Fcdn.newsapi.com.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="693" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpoS64Z2gjNB6tQbWwR_y9z4MtT6EcatjqgNQRmbdpIeO2FbIFbGzsy978SCcBzAcT5qE8l09TK-o4Fz8rAu9du3tPa2bA2m6ZYwp52S-hik7ihMHRUOv02HvqBG8g7pH8n44LRl_0tNrb/s640/https%25253A%25252F%25252Fcdn.newsapi.com.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I got the paperwork to join the community, and on driving past at a later date, I realised what a perfect place the gallery inhabited, as it's just around the corner from Lady Cilento Children's Hospital, where we spend so much time, and where most of the people we know in Brisbane hang out. So we went back the other day and I joined.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'd been thinking I was joining to set a date for my first solo exhibition, to give me a deadline to work towards, which happens to be the best way for me to work. Up to and around a deadline or theme, and off I go. But I hadn't expected that part of the commitment was going to be sitting the gallery a day a week, and bringing in some art to hang as well. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had more ideas in my head than I'd actually created, so I went into a bit of a flurry of arting. Incidentally, every time I say the word 'arting', I think of it as with a silent (Fffff)arting, as inspired by Matthew Silver and his love farts, and if you don't know who Matthew Silver is, he's definitely worth investigating.....</span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/LIVjYzUI9XI/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/LIVjYzUI9XI?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After fits and starts of work happening in my studio, I took myself down and started whittling a stick, and then sanding it and making another wearable and wallable artwork. This time with crochet tubes over twigs and then wrapped, and a hanging fringe like a lash to an eye in the middle with beads. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdoXjl0ypQiNg1sIc0GqL3F2fPOuAp7_K6NMEfKD4i78_FoKaT6hxiw9pCsXOD5dowX8laUT1GGOgnwDrPAEX2xyRcDGlJwVl7W-7cdWz07nBGntmqABIuov4aMxwGCAB0MC_6WGO1iny/s1600/38289232_10214775559689843_7677924331376082944_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdoXjl0ypQiNg1sIc0GqL3F2fPOuAp7_K6NMEfKD4i78_FoKaT6hxiw9pCsXOD5dowX8laUT1GGOgnwDrPAEX2xyRcDGlJwVl7W-7cdWz07nBGntmqABIuov4aMxwGCAB0MC_6WGO1iny/s640/38289232_10214775559689843_7677924331376082944_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'd also been making jellyfish as a move towards an exhibition too, and finished the Willy Pilly, so I brought them along, with a suitcase full of pusses and creatures as well for show and tell, and a spinning wheel and some fleece just in case.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaURWsjlF5sViWegqz8jXQN_HEMol1uPDIGxhyphenhyphenpr6j6Zqoa5dD3CEHt2otmrx_vMLaSB3DVQKfOCJ4_4VOKUDPu6It6UJiqiDjW_LrgdTgzN55_jt15hQiSA_8qz-VbbtpdOHk-uENenxE/s1600/IMG_2473.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1086" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaURWsjlF5sViWegqz8jXQN_HEMol1uPDIGxhyphenhyphenpr6j6Zqoa5dD3CEHt2otmrx_vMLaSB3DVQKfOCJ4_4VOKUDPu6It6UJiqiDjW_LrgdTgzN55_jt15hQiSA_8qz-VbbtpdOHk-uENenxE/s640/IMG_2473.jpg" width="433" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And was totally caught by surprise by the amazing buzz, intriguing artists, and community feel of the whole place. Folk dropping in and out all the time, attracted for the vibe, and artists who are renting studios painting in the sun. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dived in almost instantly to deep metaphysical conversations about the nature of the universe, and met a whole bunch of delightfully quirky and unique folk, ready to talk about everything. The Little Big Mob boy pack led by dad came to visit a few times, and all were absorbed into deep talk and laughing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And then before I knew it this happened.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was taken a bit by surprise and on the hop, as my show and tell creations that are part of the family, and a bit worn by travel, were embraced as art! A few things went up that aren't for sale, and I'm fired and inspired to replace those with 'real' artworks, that I've been dreaming of lately, and am prepared to let go of.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Can't wait to go back. Urban Paradise is at 52 - 64 Annerley Road. I'll be there every Thursday for the forseeable future if you want to come and tell yarns, or learn to make rope..... </span></div>
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-60934365335334191752018-07-14T11:29:00.000+10:002019-11-18T14:43:11.667+10:00Secret History Of Australia Conference<span style="background-color: #20124d;"><span style="background-color: #20124d;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The Secret History of Australia Conference </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Organised by Nexus Magazine in Brisbane</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <b>Prelude</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I grew up in one of the most Eurocentric and explorer focused regions of Australia, the Blue Mountains. I lived in Wentworth Falls, which was named for the explorer Wentworth, and his fellow explorers also had their names given to Lawson, which was a few towns down the mountain, and Blaxland in the foothills. Every time we travelled past Katoomba towards Blackheath (which was often), we'd drive past the Explorers Tree, which went from just a stump in my childhood with a sign out the front, to an elaborate pagoda in my teens. The legend goes that as Blaxland, Lawson and Wentworth struggled through the brush and scrub, they scratched their names on this tree. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In my early childhood I lived in Blackheath, and went quite often to Govetts Leap, named for the surveyor William Govett, which sported a rather fancy plinth and memorial, and in the town itself is a huge statue of a man on a horse, with the legend of Govetts Leap, who was allegedly an escaped convict that leapt off a cliff on his horse rather than be captured. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My sports groups in primary and high school were named after the explorers, and I was taught that this land that was Terra Nullis (or 'nobody's land') when the mighty Captain Cook landed here, peopled by primitive blacks who hunted and gathered and scrabbled about in loin cloths and skins, with heathen spears, boomerangs and crude stones being their only tools. The 'brave' explorers set out from Sydney where Captain Cook landed, and battled through the impenetrable scrub of the mountains where I lived, facing starvation and hardship all along, but they didn't have as hard a time as the other explorers, who had to face the harsh desert heat and lifeless plains beyond. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One of the clearest memories I have of primary school was in about grade 4 - and I remember how the man looked, where he was standing, and every detail of the room and the children in it - when we had a relief teacher, who was stumped about what to do with this class that he had for a day, so he read us the story of Pemulwuy. I remember it so clearly, because it was the one strident discord to the 'history' I was taught about this land and it's people, being the story of a powerful man who fought back. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I remember taking walking tracks through the dense scrub and bushland of the Blue Mountains National Parks around Wentworth Falls, and imagining that I was walking through land looking like what it must have looked like before Captain Cook arrived. Picturing small family groups, clothed in loin cloths and skins, picking their way through the almost impenetrable bush, and maybe staying the night in caves on their way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">For most of my life, whenever I've seen dense bush and
scrublands, I've felt warm little wuffles in my heart, about how I was
getting a glimpse of what it must have looked like before colonisation.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But did it??<b> </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Conference</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">After following a diverse and colourful crowd into the Brisbane Convention and Exhibition Centre, I wound my way through the halls, and the first thing to happen on entering our conference room was a gorgeous and thorough welcome to country, by Derek Oram Sandy from the Yerongpan Aboriginal Dancers. After performing on his didgeridoo, he explained to us the boundaries of his land, the towns that still have indigenous names, and what they meant. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">We then met <a href="https://www.nexusmagazine.com/about-us/what" target="_blank">Duncan Roads the Editor of Nexus Magazine</a>, who gave us another form of welcome to the conference, and confessed that this was the first conference he'd organised that had been led by spirit. After getting the idea for it delivered into his mind, he'd begun to organise it and run into some snags fairly early on, and decided to give it all up to spirit. And then two days later, was rung by a stranger who said his ancestors had told him to contact Duncan, and help pay for the conference. I was very much struck by a comment he made later, about how he'd been looking all his life for answers all over the world, and they were here all along under his nose, in the unbroken religion and culture of the incredible people who spent 120,000 years on this land.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">He next introduced us to <a href="http://radiooutthere.com/blog/about/" target="_blank">Barry Eaton</a>, who was to be our Master of Ceremonies for the conference. A well known radio and television presenter who spent many years with the ABC, who is also an author, and generally fascinating person. At one point in his introductory speech, he informed us that many of the Original People of this land prefer to be called Originals, instead of Aboriginals. On deeper inspection, the word Aboriginal is rather insultingly the term given to any indigenous people, flora and fauna of any continent. He was also rather marvelous at introducing the speakers and their extensive lists of achievements and academic acclaims. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRrsRpC-xtKQsSSI13ZHEUMeCb_kYUunQlarwC4sP7S410YMhMWrD-ZPNjmkuFqx7EqBP3Z1QPXNs0QUWnHStc_xR1DtcQOsjozxzNghcSAyR50rddoyHxL0Uf1Fl7HZbLy2szsrMSJ7tY/s1600/Barry-Eaton_144.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1020" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRrsRpC-xtKQsSSI13ZHEUMeCb_kYUunQlarwC4sP7S410YMhMWrD-ZPNjmkuFqx7EqBP3Z1QPXNs0QUWnHStc_xR1DtcQOsjozxzNghcSAyR50rddoyHxL0Uf1Fl7HZbLy2szsrMSJ7tY/s400/Barry-Eaton_144.png" width="318" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Then came the first talk of the day - </span></span><span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: #20124d;"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="color: #ffd966;"><b>Falsified History I — Landscape management</b></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Gammage" target="_blank">Bill Gammage</a>, who ironically wrote his book 'The Biggest Estate on Earth - How Aborigines Made Australia' based almost exclusively on the journals, notes and paintings done by the early explorers, surveyors, and 'settlers' of this land, some of whom I was surrounded by the history of, during my childhood in the Blue Mountains. Bill is a historian and professor at the Australian National University, with numerous books and awards, and this book is an incredible resource in the re-membering of this land.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg99QR2mEDzy1g41bEeVE6RUI9SQbbjikfi_1Lfo0JwzGA127b5ZarFmuvXADBQ0iQuRNCQtZuJPwmK1ndxaJadaoHmGuwi7TkObThO3yZnzuuvu6RcrupE-ZGbErIq4CJys4mozQI0m3Sy/s1600/Bill-Gammage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="245" data-original-width="198" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg99QR2mEDzy1g41bEeVE6RUI9SQbbjikfi_1Lfo0JwzGA127b5ZarFmuvXADBQ0iQuRNCQtZuJPwmK1ndxaJadaoHmGuwi7TkObThO3yZnzuuvu6RcrupE-ZGbErIq4CJys4mozQI0m3Sy/s400/Bill-Gammage.jpg" width="322" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">For much of his talk he had this photo of the land around Sydney up on the screen, showing the fertile abundance and careful planning inherent all over the continent. He went into great detail about the many ways that the Original folk of this land cared for it, from <a href="http://theconversation.com/the-biggest-estate-on-earth-how-aborigines-made-australia-3787" target="_blank">lighting selective fires</a> to planting vast fields of grain. Grasslands were often encouraged in the fertile valleys around water, as a lure for the wandering wildlife to be gracefully turned into food. And scrub was virtually nonexistant, as fire was used regularly to clear the bush and help seeds to sprout. This method of whole country farming, without the excesses of a ruling class, was the reason that so many early explorers and settlers kept comparing this new and stunning landscape to '<a href="http://www.abc.net.au/local/stories/2013/08/01/3816338.htm" target="_blank">English parklands</a>'. He pointed out that all the Law of this land before colonisation, was based on caring for country and all its inhabitants. He stressed that the concept of 'think global, act local' started here. And made the very interesting proposition that as the mob here never moved from hunter gatherer to agriculture only, they never set foot on the road of settled agriculture that led to the gentry and peasantry like the rest of the western planet at least. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpxOmS3OGzEoaapnMAEy63BoOkHXRTgSegOVQbMa6viR-DGYfyUvJXbbRPmQoEHukdx0p3BQ06zdYyyu638vLos3UU95bI0LnsDoReFq8E5ECSfIRHQgawucQ4mHTlmHTI8X8XsCjzEuM/s1600/Joseph%252BLycett%252BView%252Bof%252Bthe%252BHeads%252B1821%252Bart%252Bgallery%252Bnsw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="366" data-original-width="650" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpxOmS3OGzEoaapnMAEy63BoOkHXRTgSegOVQbMa6viR-DGYfyUvJXbbRPmQoEHukdx0p3BQ06zdYyyu638vLos3UU95bI0LnsDoReFq8E5ECSfIRHQgawucQ4mHTlmHTI8X8XsCjzEuM/s400/Joseph%252BLycett%252BView%252Bof%252Bthe%252BHeads%252B1821%252Bart%252Bgallery%252Bnsw.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I consider myself as being very fortunate to have been able to meet him after his talk, thank him in person for the amazing work he's done in bringing this information to light, and getting him to sign a copy of his book that I'd brought along. And highly recommend every Australian to purchase a copy and find out the true and sadly mostly secret history of this incredible continent. </span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="355" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOpf05_PMthpOd5Jl-wmqr03eYDbtnzjJIQ9XKMm03T-wem0n8g_11lHMc5tm6KscD1b8aRDedp7-Bp6G0JE3aPlE0kmiuryE5OLVrkilolUvdZTH02uNN5Lc8s-Bin01_ktq8bndyvNLQ/s400/51j-Zd6QtUL.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="282" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.allenandunwin.com/browse/books/general-books/history/The-Biggest-Estate-on-Earth-Bill-Gammage-9781743311325" target="_blank">Click here to buy a copy</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: large;">The next speakers were the father and son team of <a href="http://forgottenorigin.com/about-us-our-theory" target="_blank">Steven and Evan Strong</a>, researchers and academics who have written several books. Their talk was titled</span> </span></span><span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><b>Skulls that Rewrite History</b></span><span style="font-size: large;">. They have spent many years learning and living with the
Bundjalung Language Confederation (Northern Rivers Region of New South
Wales), Ramindjeri (South Australia) and Gumilaroi peoples (Northern New
South Wales).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">They showed us a series of photographs of two skulls that they were alerted to, on a private site, where two skeletons were found buried in a sitting position next to each other, with their hands crossed over their chests, and with huge ceremony signified. They only had a short time to investigate, and were sad to find that the site had been disturbed, with the bones strewn all over it, before it was all shut down and made inaccessible by government officials. Which it remains to this day. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR_DypkVYhvGyK1RmWYAsMtUCFC848pWvPCcWlubJ2ry7pWTFvP4B7GIi3yM2bJcDOaGn-1v_mHmKBlEqjRRehD47FzttWfqblXWivaUn7hc-RfDg8disilPMtJoHVXGvHAf50cYTOrrkD/s1600/23513505_10214844356131027_1258002279_n-880x440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="440" data-original-width="880" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR_DypkVYhvGyK1RmWYAsMtUCFC848pWvPCcWlubJ2ry7pWTFvP4B7GIi3yM2bJcDOaGn-1v_mHmKBlEqjRRehD47FzttWfqblXWivaUn7hc-RfDg8disilPMtJoHVXGvHAf50cYTOrrkD/s400/23513505_10214844356131027_1258002279_n-880x440.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">They noticed instantly that both of the skulls were totally unique, with one having no sutures at all, which is a constant feature of all terrestrial skulls, and the other having huge nocturnal eyes. And they believe these skulls to be from somewhere other than earth. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvLQxcSrdcEUzm2YZtpzl1vlg8nXq7d9lhs5Y6e6RxfZvNhGP6vogTtB-86JvN1DcilxAOilYJ1uJpYwZM3bvhFJv3xMNhcNYCipytH3AafZjp_RghUll1ueRIKFbWveTpE8drT4d3Kt0F/s1600/23548295_10214844360891146_816004427_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="719" data-original-width="960" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvLQxcSrdcEUzm2YZtpzl1vlg8nXq7d9lhs5Y6e6RxfZvNhGP6vogTtB-86JvN1DcilxAOilYJ1uJpYwZM3bvhFJv3xMNhcNYCipytH3AafZjp_RghUll1ueRIKFbWveTpE8drT4d3Kt0F/s400/23548295_10214844360891146_816004427_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Making sense of these skulls has led them in very interesting directions, and as quoted from their site,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">"One avenue we intend to pursue is the possibility that so extreme are
the features of these two skulls and skeletons it is feasible that they
are not only the ancestors of all Original people, but the ‘Adam’ and
‘Eve’ whose genetics lead to the emergence of a new hominin strand that
spread throughout the planet: Homo sapiens sapien."</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For a far better accounting of this story than I could offer here, and for more details and photos, you can further your study of this story on their site <a href="http://forgottenorigin.com/before-their-beginning-new-unknown-hominids-found-in-australia" target="_blank">here</a>. They also made reference in their talk to the 22 skulls that were discovered at Kow Swamp, which have since been reburied, and the site also flooded. More can be read about those skulls <a href="http://www.peterbrown-palaeoanthropology.net/KowS.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">They then went on to speak about another skull they had interactions with, and were actually in possession of, displaying it before and after their talk. This skull was very similar to the two
skulls they'd only been able to investigate briefly, and their
relationship with it was very esoteric, as they believe it to be of
Pleiadian origin, and again, this story is best told in their own words <a href="http://forgottenorigin.com/three-plus-one-are-these-hominids" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The third talk of the day was about <b><span style="color: #f1c232;">Starlore, ETs and Origins</span> </b>by <a href="https://stellawheildon.com/about/" target="_blank">Stella Wheildon</a>.
Straight up, I learnt a word that I'd never heard before, Matristic.
Which according to Stella, is the partnership between Matriarchal and
Patriarchal structures in balance. Her blog has a far better
description and explanation of the word <a href="https://stellawheildon.com/2016/05/24/matristic-origine-dreamtime-lore-part-1/" target="_blank">here</a>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Stella maintains that the Original people were semi-nomadic, as they followed the <a href="https://stellawheildon.com/2016/05/24/lore-descended-from-the-stars/" target="_blank">path of the stars</a> reflected on the earth, and that the Dreamtime was a <a href="http://starlore.com.au/2016/08/12/matristic-starlore-and-the-biblical-law-in-australia/" target="_blank">Matristic</a>
time. And according to the Lore of this time, as well as the Dark Emu
in the sky, there is also a feathered serpent Goddess. So the Dark Emu
and Goddess share the Milky Way. In this time the Sun was the Mother,
the Moon was the Father, and the Universe was the Grandmother. The <a href="https://stellawheildon.com/2018/05/04/seven-sisters-creation-lore-east-coast-australia-wiangaree-boojeram-gawari/" target="_blank">Galactic Grandmother</a>
was represented in the Dreamtime, and her totems were the Dragonfly,
the Water Lilly, the Whale and the Shark, as this Lore and customs
depict the creation lore of the Sky Ancestors, who made them. And the
Dragonfly birthed the Emu. A point that Stella made often over the
weekend, and that was obviously very important to her, was that before
occupation, there were two Lores. One of the Bird Goddess or Rainbow
Serpent, and the later one that was created by the <a href="https://stellawheildon.com/2018/05/02/the-sacred-spring-birth-of-a-continent-in-aboriginal-lore/" target="_blank">refugees</a>
that came to Australia after the great flood. But you can get a much
more descriptive explanation on all of this from Stella herself in the
links I've provided above.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy-PhfGFHkHtrQNpWduYwNebDDK7UhtAjO3zFkFMatNpNJaEi4ycBJffTzih_1tFKblzNF9FEVwwE3lsE4qMakiNwlVhBz3Un9ZUKB9lmqE84Rzs1xOT0-xDcjCqZ-qRe0Mf9DoeBIEdg-/s1600/winter-solstice-pleaides-and-whale.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="316" data-original-width="474" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy-PhfGFHkHtrQNpWduYwNebDDK7UhtAjO3zFkFMatNpNJaEi4ycBJffTzih_1tFKblzNF9FEVwwE3lsE4qMakiNwlVhBz3Un9ZUKB9lmqE84Rzs1xOT0-xDcjCqZ-qRe0Mf9DoeBIEdg-/s400/winter-solstice-pleaides-and-whale.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The fourth and final talk for the day was a combined effort by <a href="https://lionellauchlivingculture.wordpress.com/about/" target="_blank">Lionel Lauch</a> and Duncan Roads on<b> <span style="color: #f1c232;">Mysterious Creatures and more</span>. </b>Originally
intended to be an expose about many of the mysterious and mythical
creatures of this land according to it's people by Lionel, it didn't
however quite work out that way. But I know that Original people have
strict protocols for what can be said and who can and can't be there
when it's said, so who knows what was going on behind the scenes. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6DhWV5gBRHDeoW1fYZWrEAfNGgYIK9ijdbKL_lXPjYkSK2ufNTOFUnuXZ-zwcmIVtL1a6WXQtPsDavRypT-jJAGNCqMVC4TYxPFLXCQkvpz3nLoe4TFXGqPci04Pk98OF8aIdcrbWzrTc/s1600/image.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="607" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6DhWV5gBRHDeoW1fYZWrEAfNGgYIK9ijdbKL_lXPjYkSK2ufNTOFUnuXZ-zwcmIVtL1a6WXQtPsDavRypT-jJAGNCqMVC4TYxPFLXCQkvpz3nLoe4TFXGqPci04Pk98OF8aIdcrbWzrTc/s400/image.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lionel talked about having heard stories about the hairy people and <a href="https://www.ancient-origins.net/unexplained-phenomena/australian-yowie-mysterious-legends-tribe-hairy-people-003605" target="_blank">Yowies</a> and <a href="https://mythology.net/mythical-creatures/bunyip/" target="_blank">Bunyips</a>
in his youth, and also shared his abduction stories, but finished after
quite a short time, which is when Duncan stepped up in an improvised
fashion, and shared some of the stories he'd heard in his years of
investigation. Which also included <a href="http://www.australianyowieresearchcentre.com/aboriginal-names.html" target="_blank">Yowies</a>, or the big and little hairy men that Rex Gilroy has spent <a href="http://www.australianyowieresearchcentre.com/yowie-dreamtime-tales-hairypeople.html" target="_blank">50 years studying</a> and researching, who are apparently very stinky. There are also some <a href="https://www.news.com.au/national/queensland/meet-the-man-who-claims-hes-been-almost-killed-by-a-yowie--twice/news-story/1317d3822b7ee66f80f0369c017c11c3" target="_blank">modern day Yowie hunters</a> who look pretty hardcore, and an interesting <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/local/stories/2014/12/09/4145054.htm" target="_blank">historical sighting</a> from the early days of European occupation. </span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1ZEaot4RWMkbZ300ZNIaeoLIkQljXJsrSo5_Bvni_D6cERVPFg-t_6ytIDKZXvt27HdCIUIDeNaZ9djXfon02bfuLE2CGUCXN5PoYhSrFKOB2pdX8oNN0Y2iPw1g92Bmv4mC4lDVSkba/s1600/photograph-taken-by-Rich-Jones.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="394" data-original-width="610" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1ZEaot4RWMkbZ300ZNIaeoLIkQljXJsrSo5_Bvni_D6cERVPFg-t_6ytIDKZXvt27HdCIUIDeNaZ9djXfon02bfuLE2CGUCXN5PoYhSrFKOB2pdX8oNN0Y2iPw1g92Bmv4mC4lDVSkba/s400/photograph-taken-by-Rich-Jones.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The mysterious photograph taken by Rich Jones in Batlow, New South Wales that some say was a Yowie (1932) </i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.cryptopia.us/site/2009/12/bunyip-australia/" target="_blank">Bunyips</a> were also mentioned again, <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/local/stories/2007/06/22/1959484.htm" target="_blank">living in watercourses</a> throughout the land, and I'd be remiss if I didn't share a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TqCumqMWJok" target="_blank">video of the Bunyip</a>
in Murray Bridge, that all of our children were terrified/delighted by
in their youth in South Australia. Duncan talked about the Original
stories of <a href="https://cityfantasy.wordpress.com/2012/09/08/fairies-of-the-bush/" target="_blank">fairys</a> or <a href="https://australianmuseum.net.au/indigenous-australia-spirituality" target="_blank">little people</a> who live underground and teach herb lore, or <a href="https://janhawkinsau.wordpress.com/2013/10/08/the-mimi-people-the-spirit-lands-of-australian-lore/" target="_blank">Mimi spirits</a> as they were called here, of whom there's a beautiful painting down the <a href="https://www.aboriginal-art-australia.com/aboriginal-art-library/understanding-aboriginal-dreaming-and-the-dreamtime/" target="_blank">end of this page</a>. He also mentioned the <a href="https://www.genesispark.com/exhibits/evidence/cryptozoological/the-therapod-enclosure/the-burrunjor-of-australia/" target="_blank">Burrunjor</a>, which is an Australian dinosaur cryptid <a href="http://cryptidz.wikia.com/wiki/Burrunjor" target="_blank">resembling a T Rex,</a> giant spiders, <a href="https://www.couriermail.com.au/news/queensland/secret-caves-in-cape-york-reveal-fossilised-snake-skeletons-and-link-to-dreamtime/news-story/1a4eb89831bffab0c00cd3669dc6aa2a" target="_blank">giant pythons</a>, velociraptor like creatures, Ropen or huge thunderbirds, and a race of <a href="http://www.mysteriousaustralia.com/australasian_ufologist2.html" target="_blank">giant people</a>. Which may all sound <a href="https://theconversation.com/dreamings-and-place-aboriginal-monsters-and-their-meanings-25606" target="_blank">fantastical</a>,
but as this land has the longest occupation of people on the planet,
it's more than likely that the Originals did indeed live with <a href="https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/early-australians-may-have-fought-giant-lizards-supremacy-180956747/" target="_blank">giant lizards</a> and <a href="https://www.kickassfacts.com/10-prehistoric-giants-of-australia/" target="_blank">other animals.</a> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjDgdQ37XfTbs5OK2qS6EyYiEaMfhuArr_yu5yaBMLGoYbaIn31ZwItzlO9zgGBVhhtznRUCuzpq4P4Cfk5jTKIjfvW1Xmiwt-hheFCXgqvRPcVwZzGRe3-Y0ewdI3Pi1Wijil7lDRMlz9/s1600/f33d0b10a435ffb1b0ed263e42999583.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="432" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjDgdQ37XfTbs5OK2qS6EyYiEaMfhuArr_yu5yaBMLGoYbaIn31ZwItzlO9zgGBVhhtznRUCuzpq4P4Cfk5jTKIjfvW1Xmiwt-hheFCXgqvRPcVwZzGRe3-Y0ewdI3Pi1Wijil7lDRMlz9/s400/f33d0b10a435ffb1b0ed263e42999583.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Painting of a Mimi Spirit</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;">On Saturday evening there was <span style="color: #f1c232;"><b>culture, ceremony and music</b></span>,
with Lionel Lauch assisting us with a Didgeridoo meditation, Stella
Wheildon reiterating a lot of the information she'd given us in her talk
earlier, with a reminder that there was always two Lores in Australia,
that of the Matristic Dreamtime and the one that came after, and a
delightful duo who serenaded us with voice, guitar and didgeridoo. I
was so thrilled to recognise the guitarist and singer, as the man who I
met on my first spinning busking experience in front of the giant goanna
at West End. He'd welcomed me to the goanna and the mob he was
sitting with, and told me a bit about his busking stories of the city,
and it was awesome to see him again. Their music together was very
moving.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The first talk on Sunday was about <b><span style="color: #f1c232;">Slater and the Standing Stones</span> </b>by Steven and Evan Strong. They started off by introducing us to <a href="http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/dunlop-eliza-hamilton-2007" target="_blank">Eliza Hamilton Dunlop</a> (1796-1880), <a href="https://tintean.org.au/2015/11/06/a-forgotten-colonial-woman-poet/" target="_blank">poet</a>
and student of the Originals - in particular their languages - who is
believed to be one of the first Europeans to hear of and write about the
Standing Stones, and to also have been given the words of the first
language.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY24DbtGzxorcAns9dvJV3nc8UcN_66JijnxhDhLW0eC9LM-589PZ8bcfH4gjxeBqwszIIAcs0HnWZ1zK9EyIo3HwjZOorK6XEboEQamm_p3B3rXznpIdzwlFvIxL-Ex_4CcqIorV4VuYc/s1600/eliza.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="201" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY24DbtGzxorcAns9dvJV3nc8UcN_66JijnxhDhLW0eC9LM-589PZ8bcfH4gjxeBqwszIIAcs0HnWZ1zK9EyIo3HwjZOorK6XEboEQamm_p3B3rXznpIdzwlFvIxL-Ex_4CcqIorV4VuYc/s400/eliza.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Next we met <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frederic_Slater" target="_blank">Frederic Slater</a>,
who is believed to have been given her manual about the Standing
Stones, as well as her description and drawings of the 28,000 word
language, which is apparently the first language spoken on earth. In
the words of Steven and Evan Strong in an <a href="http://forgottenorigin.com/three-resons-why-frederic-slaters-two-steps-too-far-article" target="_blank">article</a> about him, </span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"Frederic Slater was acknowledged by academics and government alike, as
one of the top experts on Original culture and rock engravings and also
extremely knowledgeable in all things ancient Egyptian. So great was his
stature and wealth of knowledge, he was elected by his peers to be the
President of the Australian Archaeological, Educational and Research
Society of Australia."</i></span></div>
</blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4dHGKH6bE91e7WlkY71VZkuiI6EbOyLLGg3A113FyzCHbYQ6aHCIYy3ULkNnSIRANNN_zovcvoGbnPQ5TdbH6HYSnli88UEVVQUcMw5aLipNBDV6RxszEJ13FolsBYIqgq7zVsCvkoAQ/s1600/cc573f46d8f50544c13dc8b606d1c546.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="421" data-original-width="316" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4dHGKH6bE91e7WlkY71VZkuiI6EbOyLLGg3A113FyzCHbYQ6aHCIYy3ULkNnSIRANNN_zovcvoGbnPQ5TdbH6HYSnli88UEVVQUcMw5aLipNBDV6RxszEJ13FolsBYIqgq7zVsCvkoAQ/s400/cc573f46d8f50544c13dc8b606d1c546.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Despite the esteem he was held in during the majority of his life, his career and fame were <a href="http://forgottenorigin.com/frederic-slater-hero-or-villain-reclaiming-the-standing-stones-heritage" target="_blank">ostensibly over</a>
when he brought to light the information and research he'd done on the
Standing Stones. Using the descriptions and drawings done by Eliza, he
interpreted the signs and reported that the Stones contained the
'Mystery of Life'. In another fascinating <a href="http://forgottenorigin.com/5-australias-stonehenge-frederic-slaters-legacy" target="_blank">article</a> by Steven and Evan Strong, they report</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"The opening placement of stones on the southern edge, which looks
very much like a medicine wheel, was interpreted by Slater to read as
“guided by truth, man came to Earth through darkness from light of life
that shines far off.” This extra-terrestrial theme of somebody or being
coming to this planet from “far off” is repeated throughout these
constructions, extolling that the “truth was brought out on wings to
Earth” and “the Divine Light from afar to the Earth brings the soul to
man.” </i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>It is a site without parallel on the east coast of Australia at so
many levels. The means of construction, significance, content,
sacredness and real possibility that this arrangement chronicles the
first time modern humans devised a formal means of expressing words and
thoughts, are but some of issues that need to be investigated. </i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>In what only adds to the intrigue, Slater is not only adamant that
the ancient Egyptians were not only present (and most probably assisting
in the transport of sandstone and fill) but they came in homage and
reverence. He asserted that “there is no mistaking the fact that the
Aborigines… gave not only to the Egyptians their knowledge and their
foundation of hieroglyphics and their philosophy, but formulated the
basis of all knowledge in the beginning, now and to come.”"</i></span></blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnhSHT9_b-nQUjeSuMnlNu_qLTu9gGjVrsF67K__lrDhL0u1mmhuQ1JD_RQRiwS8mA6_KdnClYEfd8LIfT_Z_3SmE9SPEoB7M37-nkh_Q3IgrdJu3EM7QtLOKWbmuuLXoL_hZsAynRjcf/s1600/images.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnhSHT9_b-nQUjeSuMnlNu_qLTu9gGjVrsF67K__lrDhL0u1mmhuQ1JD_RQRiwS8mA6_KdnClYEfd8LIfT_Z_3SmE9SPEoB7M37-nkh_Q3IgrdJu3EM7QtLOKWbmuuLXoL_hZsAynRjcf/s400/images.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In a devastating travesty of natural justice, the stones once found and researched by Slater were <a href="https://www.valeriebarrow.com/?p=2182" target="_blank">bulldozed</a>
at the end of the second world war, by the farmers who owned the piece
of land they stood on, for fear that they would lose their land. But
fortunately, the <a href="https://www.ancient-origins.net/ancient-places-australia-oceania/ancient-stones-australia-mysterious-series-rock-arrangements-and-021619" target="_blank">184 rocks</a>
that were the Standing Stones, believed to have come along with sand
and trees from all over the land, were found nearby, and could still
potentially <a href="http://forgottenorigin.com/the-resurrection-of-the-standing-stones-australias-stonehenge-the-rocks-have-been-found" target="_blank">be restored</a>. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqgXRJvMpfI9cq1uHEW_aVSdpV_zmDAUPy7vn8e4ILseLB1MFtVznhly05wLMRVa_6VrBG9dntXo35XIBj8MbqYkcbfQ5Kza9S5X7JvROFW9xr3QQJ17bJ4v-G6sdadS1pCDVArhT6dAnH/s1600/95594_Hx6Kuzxb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="596" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqgXRJvMpfI9cq1uHEW_aVSdpV_zmDAUPy7vn8e4ILseLB1MFtVznhly05wLMRVa_6VrBG9dntXo35XIBj8MbqYkcbfQ5Kza9S5X7JvROFW9xr3QQJ17bJ4v-G6sdadS1pCDVArhT6dAnH/s400/95594_Hx6Kuzxb.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Unbelievably,
only 3 months ago, the local council was about to approve building
houses on the site, but this has since changed, and only 3 million
dollars is needed to buy this site and restore such an amazing <a href="http://richardapatterson17.blogspot.com/2014/06/the-stones-and-mounds-of-mullumbimby.html" target="_blank">world heritage site</a>! If you felt compelled to help this dream come true, you could become a protector <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/1566095153713460/" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitmvTrGv4ooYRI1Gdz45WYYv8xk9BZOORXe6cWui3LUgmVgE9kHBMRXY48XL338-ETP5zsj-ktWAhYcONRrUz704uxr6QNBubMQqL6rKWHKj85hbbC_BrdYsPoY3WFKrBh13FeMK0hxsFM/s1600/9157877_orig.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="349" data-original-width="430" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitmvTrGv4ooYRI1Gdz45WYYv8xk9BZOORXe6cWui3LUgmVgE9kHBMRXY48XL338-ETP5zsj-ktWAhYcONRrUz704uxr6QNBubMQqL6rKWHKj85hbbC_BrdYsPoY3WFKrBh13FeMK0hxsFM/s400/9157877_orig.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">According to Steven and Evan Strong, it used to take years to do the
ceremonies required to get to the top of the mound. It's the oldest
temple on the planet, not exclusively Original, but belonging to the <a href="https://www.northernstar.com.au/news/australias-stonehenge/2514546/" target="_blank">world</a>. They believe that the first men and women on earth, their ritual and history, are all recorded there. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The second talk of the day was a bit of a personal favourite for me, having read <a href="https://australianmuseum.net.au/blogpost/science/bruce-pascoe-and-his-dark-emu" target="_blank">'The Dark Emu, Black Seeds: agriculture or accident?</a>' years ago, and being forevermore changed by it. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bruce_Pascoe" target="_blank">Bruce Pascoe</a> presented a talk called <b><span style="color: #f1c232;">Falsified History II — Agricultural practices</span> </b>via Skype, and had an amazing presence despite the distance. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.sbs.com.au/nitv/article/2016/05/17/bruce-pascoe-storytelling-history-and-cultural-pride" target="_blank">Bruce's book 'Dark Emu'</a>
is written largely from the reports, journals and drawings of early
explorers and settlers, and completely challenges the notion that the
Original people of this land were hunters and gatherers. Tragically,
the descriptions by the explorers and settlers, are the closest thing we
have to filling out the magnificent details of the Original
civilisation that lovingly tended this land, on the eve of it's
colonialisation, genocide and destruction. </span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"<i>If we look at the evidence presented to us by the explorers and explain to our children that Aboriginal people <b>did </b>build houses, <b>did </b>build dams, <b>did </b>sow, irrigate and till the land, <b>did </b>alter the course of rivers, <b>did </b>sew their clothes, and <b>did </b>construct
a system of pan-continental government that generated peace and
prosperity, then it is likely we will admire and love our land all the
more" - </i>Bruce Pascoe"</span></div>
</blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And
he had a lot of questions. Why had we, as 'educated' Australians,
never heard of stoops (or haystacks)? Why do we not know that the
Original people were sowing, reaping and storing grain? Why do we not
know that Mitchell rode through 9 miles of haystacks, that is probably
the biggest agricultural field in history, anywhere? Why don't we know
that the Origines were tilling the ground so deeply that you couldn't
walk on it, in fields as far as the eye could see? Why don't we know
that they had wells and log houses? Why don't we know that in Melbourne
the farmers noted that the hillsides were terraced? And why is
Brewarrina, home of the oldest man made structure on the planet - the
Fish Traps - not being visited by hordes of archaeologists and tourists,
like the Pyramids and Stonehenge?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He told a story which is beautifully expressed in <a href="https://www.theepochtimes.com/australian-aborigines-were-sophisticated-farmers-and-land-managers_688000.html" target="_blank">this article</a>....</span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;">"<i>One of the most vivid accounts was from explorer Charles Sturt, who
was the first European to penetrate the interior and see the Simpson
Desert. </i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>In his 1844-1846 expedition, Sturt was near death, having already
lost some of his exploration party, when he came across a group of some
400 Aboriginals.</i></span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>They saved his life by giving him water, roast duck and cake which
had been made from their own grain, Mr Pascoe said. Sturt repeatedly
described the cake as the “best cake he had ever eaten”, even after his
hunger had been satiated.</i></span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>“He describes it in great detail, he describes the method of the
milling, the flavour, and he even goes as far as to give a short
recipe,” Mr Pascoe said in a phone interview.</i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>“They still call it ‘the dead heart of Australia’ and here he was eating cake made from flour harvested there.”"</i></span></blockquote>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">One
of the main reasons that we don't know more of these stories, is for
the plain fact that the early explorers and settlers weren't able to
overcome their eurocentric bias enough, to actually appreciate what they
were seeing. As Bruce said in his talk, the word 'civilization' was
created by the white fellas to describe their own culture, not other
peoples. And what they actually did in the world, was <a href="https://www.theaustralian.com.au/arts/review/book-reviews-hidden-in-plain-view-dark-emu-vandemonian-war/news-story/1b8ba942884be79a05b69f20b5b447ab" target="_blank">christianised colonialism</a>. As well as all the other agricultural practices already discussed in this post, the Originals also had <a href="https://www.theage.com.au/national/victoria/could-budj-bim-in-western-victoria-be-australias-20th-world-heritage-site-20150604-ghh212.html" target="_blank">ingenious aquaculture</a>
going on all over the land, like the Fish Traps above. Here is a photo
of another form of fishing from his book, which was using a fence of
sticks with chutes for the fish to get through and also caught if
needed, and seats where folk could sit to do their fishing.</span></div>
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<b></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMT2Cj8lvyVFPXA5nFEBFT8uE-I_HaJTs5SEFcpTrkJwhZm5sFv64e4XWc29GX7S8JVRwJ0vcTZgaYsXP2ros-Y3W1H-EQjY3zpO3AWKKRLofY4MMCchHzvLWlkg1AHfXHHSNt95qhtszE/s1600/images-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="204" data-original-width="247" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMT2Cj8lvyVFPXA5nFEBFT8uE-I_HaJTs5SEFcpTrkJwhZm5sFv64e4XWc29GX7S8JVRwJ0vcTZgaYsXP2ros-Y3W1H-EQjY3zpO3AWKKRLofY4MMCchHzvLWlkg1AHfXHHSNt95qhtszE/s400/images-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Which
leads to another story that Bruce told from his book, and that I myself
have told numerous times since I read his book. Again, the account is
described beautifully in <a href="https://www.foreground.com.au/environment/decolonising-agriculture-bruce-pascoes-dark-emu/" target="_blank">this article</a>.</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;">"<i><span class="s1">Later they witnessed the people fishing
with canoes, lines and nets. The purpose of the weirs gradually became
clear. They were made by damming the stream behind large earthen
platforms into which channels were let in order to direct fish as
required. On one particular day Kirby noticed a man by one of these
weirs. He wrote that:</span></i></span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
</i></span>
<br />
<div class="p1" style="padding-left: 30px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="s1">a black would
sit near the opening and just behind him a tough stick about ten feet
long was stuck in the ground with the thick end down. To the thin end of
this rod was attached a line with a noose at the other end; a wooden
peg was fixed under the water at the opening in the fence to which this
noose was caught, and when the fish made a dart to go through the
opening he was caught by the gills, his force undid the loop from the
peg, and the spring of the stick threw the fish over the head of the
black, who would then in a most lazy manner reach back his hand, undo
the fish, and set the loop again around the peg.</span></i></span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="s1">How did Kirby interpret this activity?
After describing the operation in such detail and appearing to approve
of the its efficiency, he wrote, “I have often heard of the indolence of
the blacks and soon came to the conclusion after watching a blackfellow
catch fish in such a lazy way, that what I had heard was perfectly
true.”</span></i> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
</i></span>
<br />
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="s1">Kirby’s preconceptions of what he was
going to find on this frontier are so powerful that he skews his
detailed observations to that prejudice."</span></i></span></div>
</blockquote>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66ud9eOP2i_ARP3b7Z52VHWeaXskEfP9rCETIH2uNXuXASN4Z5HWJPr1hoA6pviCzjxye4mmga92kOTGoZisNr_rUR8WTXPQ1ZpZu8-jfuRoTeL9xJXX_PimVm7TEdMKPcw4O1m4VoZgC/s1600/dark-emu.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="377" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66ud9eOP2i_ARP3b7Z52VHWeaXskEfP9rCETIH2uNXuXASN4Z5HWJPr1hoA6pviCzjxye4mmga92kOTGoZisNr_rUR8WTXPQ1ZpZu8-jfuRoTeL9xJXX_PimVm7TEdMKPcw4O1m4VoZgC/s400/dark-emu.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can buy his book <a href="https://www.magabala.com/culture-and-history/dark-emu.html" target="_blank">here</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Bruce
was very passionate about potential solutions as well, stating the
obvious that in the sunniest country in the world, we should be getting
heavily into Solar Power. He also believes that we could solve many
environmental issues by returning to the plants and foods that are
native to this land. And he's personally involved in many initiatives
to rekindle our <a href="https://www.sbs.com.au/food/article/2018/05/29/comment-lets-talk-about-real-australian-food" target="_blank">native foods, grains and rices</a>, and striving for a <a href="https://www.saveur.com/bruce-pascoe-australia#page-7" target="_blank">national food culture</a>
that is suited to this land and not borrowed from other countries. He
finished up with the statement that the mob here invented bread, the
housing dome, and society, and that this land was the fount of human
existence. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I only wish he'd been there bodily, so I could have thanked him in person for the monumentally important work that he's doing.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The third talk of the day was by Allan Euston Williams with Stella Wheildon, and it was called <b><span style="color: #f1c232;">"Origine" (Aboriginal Prophecy and the End of Days)</span>. </b>In
perhaps another protocol issue of who can and can't be present when
certain things are spoken about, nothing much was said about the actual
prophecy, and again, who knows what was going on behind the scenes.
Allan Euston Williams is a Ngarakbul Githabul Wahlubal Elder,
and spoke about how he was having difficulties with both the Aboriginal
Land Council and the Native Title Tribunal, and how they weren't
actually representing his people at all. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And
then Stella Wheildon stood up again to tell us a bit more. She talked
about how Mount Wollumbin was the grandmother, and Mount Lindesay was
the grandfather, and there was a sacred marriage between them, with
Nimbin Rocks being the neutral ground inbetween them. And that the end
of days was the end of separation, as we formed a global village. She
mentioned the <a href="https://www.universetoday.com/39012/milankovitch-cycle/" target="_blank">Milankovich cycles</a>,
and the Axial tilt that happens every 41,000 years, and how that is
about to affect us, and also how between 2019 and 2027 the earth would
be pulled into an asteroid belt. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Stella
talked about how the dragonfly represented the All Mother, and how the
Pleiades seeded life here and explodes into a supernova every 14,000
years. She said that 25 million years ago a 4km wide asteroid hit near
the East Coast, and that at this time New Zealand was connected to
Australia and protected it from the tsunami impact. This started off an
ice age, and sent the mammals that were whales back into the sea, and
created the inner sea of Australia. Which is why the central desert
country is whale dreaming. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3SW2I2OpTibUJgZv8aO7mAv2VHxg_YN-VKCMmQlvzXcw8HoHpshKO2axnRdPP-20kcAOq1uvvhpoka5Tvnbj4EcKDQXvqX7QHS3wHZ7j5YMSDvd1cbTItCeyHyik54dbUL95WySmilId/s1600/grandmother-whale-and-wollumbin.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="316" data-original-width="474" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3SW2I2OpTibUJgZv8aO7mAv2VHxg_YN-VKCMmQlvzXcw8HoHpshKO2axnRdPP-20kcAOq1uvvhpoka5Tvnbj4EcKDQXvqX7QHS3wHZ7j5YMSDvd1cbTItCeyHyik54dbUL95WySmilId/s400/grandmother-whale-and-wollumbin.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Stella
also rather beautifully recounted how all the water on this planet came
from comets, and as the earth and us are both 70% water, that this
water is our connection to the universe, to the land, and to each
other. And this connectivity changed the world. And she mentioned the
Blue Star Kachina, that the Hopi indians and Mayans talk about, from the
time they experienced such events before. <a href="https://in5d.com/hopi-blue-star-kachina-prophecy/" target="_blank">This article</a> is the closest representation to all the hints I gleaned from the conference, about what is to come. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The final talk of the conference was by Duncan Roads again, titled <b><span style="color: #f1c232;">Challenging Out of Africa</span>.</b> Aware of the <a href="https://www.nexusnewsfeed.com/article/ancient-mysteries/aboriginal-elders-warn-the-end-of-days-is-near/" target="_blank">huge buildup</a>
for the reveal about the Origine prophecy of the End Of Days, and as he
wasn't prevented by any Original protocols, he tried to fill in some
gaps. It was an off the cuff kind of presentation, but he talked about
how the earth doesn't need to be destroyed, and how the theory of
evolution as it applies to humans isn't actually accurate. He
maintained that beings from the skies seeded humans as slaves and
fodder, and we were created to mine gold. And the whales opted to stay
and help us out. He noted that often our science fiction and movies are
actually quite prophetic, and that there were nuggets of truth in
popular movies like 'Cowboys and Aliens'. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8m7lNzSbfexrNXRUF8Xk0ZKDo-mZ6BQpqzFzvzxE7PVgJPhHYAhHLwbjFXcCzAlimDfcSy3xYV1xnwaCJ0x0S8F9i_1l48cnf8-Li_vEI6AIzZELWfbzlYF8FR-xX4tceLpgrJTN2SDp/s1600/91n4lj428aL._SL1500_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1079" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8m7lNzSbfexrNXRUF8Xk0ZKDo-mZ6BQpqzFzvzxE7PVgJPhHYAhHLwbjFXcCzAlimDfcSy3xYV1xnwaCJ0x0S8F9i_1l48cnf8-Li_vEI6AIzZELWfbzlYF8FR-xX4tceLpgrJTN2SDp/s400/91n4lj428aL._SL1500_.jpg" width="286" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He
said that even though we exist in top down imposed slavery, we are all
stardust and mini gods in learning. And the powers that be, in
religion, law, governments and corporations, are at their very top, all
satanic paedophiles. And he almost got a standing ovation on this
point. This may all seem far out and fantastical, but there is growing
evidence that this is actually the 'reality' of the world of power and
money, that has been going on for millennia. If you want further
information about this nightmare that is at the seat of power and money
in our world, you could investigate the <a href="https://www.itnj.org/" target="_blank">International Tribunal for Natural Justice</a>, who have closed down receiving new cases in order to focus on investigating <a href="https://www.thunderclap.it/projects/68974-judicial-commission-of-inquiry" target="_blank">human trafficking and child sex abuse</a>.
He said time is an oppressor, and power is in the now. There's a
rather lovely video I found that explains this beautifully. </span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/DR5aYgcch8Q/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DR5aYgcch8Q?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Duncan
then recounted, that from what he can glean in all the conversations
he's had with Original elders, the ancestors or creators or Biame (or
aliens that seeded us) left us alone 10,000 years ago, but they're on
the way back, expected within the next two years. And there's an
upgrade coming with them, that will send some people mad, as their
thoughts and fears manifest in minutes. When this shift comes, we'll
transform according to our consciousness, and the main message that he
wanted to convey, and that he'd heard from his elder contacts, was....Do
Not Be In Fear.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">He then launched into the actual talk he had prepared, which was challenging the Out Of Africa belief. He talked about <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-latin-america-42916261" target="_blank">Lidar and Laser technologies</a>
revealing the massive centres under the iceberg tip of what we can see
in Mayan cities. With complex irrigation and terracing and intensive
agriculture. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8drctMaklldxIMVUTrqcev4FnN7yWk0w_7xYoU89p5Hg-tvbhq2v4k-JNqRq-d_ldRmXDI2mmEv0BJh67RzHuOCfNaiePzf5Y4fq720DZxhsQSDLzzqF3zkFgLgGr-o0rBghUQ2v89hFO/s1600/_99859938_mixmayanpic.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="371" data-original-width="660" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8drctMaklldxIMVUTrqcev4FnN7yWk0w_7xYoU89p5Hg-tvbhq2v4k-JNqRq-d_ldRmXDI2mmEv0BJh67RzHuOCfNaiePzf5Y4fq720DZxhsQSDLzzqF3zkFgLgGr-o0rBghUQ2v89hFO/s400/_99859938_mixmayanpic.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He talked about many other <a href="http://www.foxnews.com/science/2018/03/22/lost-city-revealed-in-south-africa-using-laser-technology.html" target="_blank">lost cities</a> being found with this technology, that was forcing us to reassess ancient cultures. Like <a href="https://www.ancient-code.com/the-mysteries-of-nan-madol/" target="_blank">Nan Madol</a>, an ancient <a href="https://www.ancient-origins.net/ancient-places-asia/mysterious-ancient-coral-reef-city-nan-madol-001299" target="_blank">coral reef city</a>, and <a href="https://www.ancient-origins.net/myths-legends/lost-continent-kumari-kandam-001941" target="_blank">Kumari Kandam</a>, or <a href="http://www.themysteriousindia.net/kumari-kandam-lost-continent/" target="_blank">Lemuria</a>, a sunken land mass that Madagascans and Originals both talk about, with the <a href="http://www.ancientpages.com/2016/08/05/kumari-kandam-mythical-lost-virgin-continent-and-history-of-tamil-people-shrouded-in-mystery/" target="_blank">Tamil people </a>uncovering ancient tools and texts. The <a href="https://www.ancient-code.com/15-things-know-lost-continent-kumari-kandam/" target="_blank">Tamil timeline</a> also connects to the Originies, and what Stella Wheildon was talking about. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Duncan also mentioned Iran's matriarchal <a href="http://www.iranreview.org/content/Documents/Iran_s_Burnt_City.htm" target="_blank">Burnt City</a>, where they found the first <a href="http://www.iran-daily.com/News/216326.html" target="_blank">artificial eye</a> and proof of brain surgery. And <a href="https://www.jamesmaxlow.com/" target="_blank">Dr James Maxlow</a>, with his <a href="http://www.dinox.org/expandingearth.html" target="_blank">expanding earth theory</a>. Also about <a href="http://earthsky.org/earth/lost-continent-zealandia-drilling-expedition-2017" target="_blank">Zealandia</a>, the <a href="https://www.news.com.au/technology/science/secrets-of-lost-eighth-continent-zealandia-to-be-unlocked-as-scientists-explore-underwater-landmass/news-story/b136d3304a40ec3528b80e8b2a22f206" target="_blank">lost continent</a> off the <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/sep/27/zealandia-drilling-reveals-secrets-of-sunken-lost-continent" target="_blank">east coast</a> of Australia, that Stella Wheildon also mentioned in her talk. And the <a href="https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/dna-search-first-americans-links-amazon-indigenous-australians-180955976/" target="_blank">genetic studies</a> that link the <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/national/amazonians-ancient-links-to-indigenous-australians-20150722-gihusk.html" target="_blank">indigenous people</a> of the <a href="https://www.news.com.au/technology/science/evolution/genetic-study-challenges-americas-settlment-theories-by-linking-amazonians-and-australasians/news-story/33a00624e927aecfe88e6ca88824810d" target="_blank">Amazon</a> and <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-3170959/Were-Aborigines-AMERICANS-Native-tribes-Amazon-closely-related-indigenous-Australians.html" target="_blank">Australasia</a>.</span></div>
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</span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwkAPunaRFGeedrlR0psIuPGG4Y_zmmzQVkGNrL_q6Q9mPe8b3kZc8c8OLZoF5Wqg3zok79bH8VWKMvyRpM-Uj7mkMo6AGsdYOvkgxlWOW9Og_4VmhlRzd9hFLn9Dq9ikWlvWIqZhpR0xJ/s1600/13325.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwkAPunaRFGeedrlR0psIuPGG4Y_zmmzQVkGNrL_q6Q9mPe8b3kZc8c8OLZoF5Wqg3zok79bH8VWKMvyRpM-Uj7mkMo6AGsdYOvkgxlWOW9Og_4VmhlRzd9hFLn9Dq9ikWlvWIqZhpR0xJ/s400/13325.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The worlds earliest artificial eyeball found in the Burnt City</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And most interestingly, Duncan talked about how people in the <a href="https://www.philstar.com/headlines/2018/05/03/1811785/early-humans-philippines-700000-years-ago-study" target="_blank">Phillipines</a> are earnestly seeking their <a href="https://phys.org/news/2018-05-early-humans-philippines-years.html" target="_blank">history</a>, and have proven that there were <a href="https://www.inquisitr.com/4886923/early-humans-were-in-the-philippines-as-early-as-700000-years-ago-new-study-suggests/" target="_blank">early humans</a> hunting <a href="https://www.gizmodo.com.au/2018/05/stunning-discovery-shows-early-humans-were-hunting-rhinos-in-the-philippines-over-700000-years-ago/" target="_blank">Rhinocerous</a> between 709,000 - 777,000 years ago. He also said there were ancient <a href="http://nationalunitygovernment.org/content/first-race-out-australia-not-africa-0" target="_blank">high tech cities</a> off the east cost of Australia. And shared that one of his spiritual mentors was <a href="https://upliftconnect.com/colonized-england/" target="_blank">Burnum Burnum</a>,
who taught him about the interconnection of consciousness and matter.
And about how every thought and feeling we have, is picked up by the sun
and reflected back at us. He was told that we're approaching a time
when we hate ourselves as humanity, and that when you put out feelings
of self hatred, rocks will change course to fulfill our expectations and
hit us. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He
finished up by saying that in these times, it's essential to find the
peace and love inside, and reiterated the importance of what he said
before, which was Do Not Fear! The Gods are coming back......</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9Sfxz4vBTOHmyJ4-_yjZtnf-3OO3bPdVPDwGLg4FkbWokk1ZrSCT9BSJnCQUylDIwB_mJ-df-rwnAm7UIEQBxiA1xgV8wo1svqs6p-yqt1sev5_H7vC8U4h0yNB0bkf4AF-i44d_eb1C/s1600/burnam_burnam.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="700" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9Sfxz4vBTOHmyJ4-_yjZtnf-3OO3bPdVPDwGLg4FkbWokk1ZrSCT9BSJnCQUylDIwB_mJ-df-rwnAm7UIEQBxiA1xgV8wo1svqs6p-yqt1sev5_H7vC8U4h0yNB0bkf4AF-i44d_eb1C/s400/burnam_burnam.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <b>Epilogue <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I've
been writing this post for over a month now, and have learnt a huge
amount in the process. Things that I heard about first at the
conference with maybe a dash of skepticism, have been proven with ample
facts and articles I found during the research for it. One of my
favourite things I found incidentally along the way for example, was
about how the <a href="https://www.ancient-origins.net/news-evolution-human-origins/australian-aboriginals-knew-variable-star-betelgeuse-098982" target="_blank">Originals knew about the variable star Betelgeuse</a> long before the Europeans. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">But
even with all my prior knowledge, and even after writing the Prologue
to this post, I still wasn't sure that I'd find information about my
childhood home of the Blue Mountains, and I still harboured a belief
that they'd always been the wild mountainous terrain that I'd grown up
with. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkRReSBa2GtoiLYKcIW3un9hfb3Ab4VxNI3j6HsCtGVuqXaRNjSGlyHwdXyFtAwKFOQcLfke2Lqo4VsHgfKSRKulimjHNLuzodiui58489SEqjcJDCciO_0vEwl08IGk8xoNpw83W_WJmt/s1600/images.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkRReSBa2GtoiLYKcIW3un9hfb3Ab4VxNI3j6HsCtGVuqXaRNjSGlyHwdXyFtAwKFOQcLfke2Lqo4VsHgfKSRKulimjHNLuzodiui58489SEqjcJDCciO_0vEwl08IGk8xoNpw83W_WJmt/s400/images.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">So I consulted Bill Gamage's book, The Biggest Estate on Earth - How Aborigines Made Australia, and guess what I found.</span></span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">"In
the Blue Mountains Evans reported "spaces of Ground of 3 or 400 Acres
with grass growing within them that you can scarce walk through; the
ground is strong and good with ponds of water which lead to the River;
but when within a 1/4 of a Mile or so of it the course becomes a Rocky
gully, and so steep between the hills, that no person would suspect such
places were up them" pg 72</span></span></span></div>
</blockquote>
<span style="font-size: large;">When
it came to the impenetrable scrub in the mountains of my youth, and the
belief I had that the explorers had to struggle their way through it, I
found this from the same book...</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;">"In
the Blue Mountains Jean Quoy found "vast forests where you walk beneath
very pleasant domes of verdure. We noticed that all of these were
blackened right up, and circumstance due to the fact, the natives liking
to set alight the grasses and brushwood obstructing their way, the fire
often catches the fibrous bark of the largest trees, which then burn
without their trunk being in any way damaged by it and without injuring
the vegetation of their tops." pg158</span></blockquote>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTn0kYDI-SliQpWd8ttphJgTHr18dbix7ghABw4ylY3L1QmUvQbdg69D1J56XJWPEIBnYccab64QBUt4LmK_F7rsv9ZFv2Ayjh8rSgduXSbxyG-igVC53_iVlRO3mkBG-drMKbJvbpGwP6/s1600/ABC-LIC-HIS140.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="393" data-original-width="699" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTn0kYDI-SliQpWd8ttphJgTHr18dbix7ghABw4ylY3L1QmUvQbdg69D1J56XJWPEIBnYccab64QBUt4LmK_F7rsv9ZFv2Ayjh8rSgduXSbxyG-igVC53_iVlRO3mkBG-drMKbJvbpGwP6/s400/ABC-LIC-HIS140.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early painting showing how the trees were thinned and managed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Then there's this....</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Evans
was moderately impressed in the Blue Mountains. It had 'a fine
appearance, the Trees being thin and the hills covered....with pasture
to their tops; This Range is rather overrun with underwood and larger
Timber growing thereon, but the sides are as green as possible'." pg
188</span></blockquote>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">But this was the real kicker for me....</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Similar
clearings pocked Blue Mountains forest. Above Grose Valley in 1804 was
'a small piece of ground, which was destitute of trees, and no
herbaceous brush', north of Katoomba in 1813 'about <b><i>two thousand acres of land Clear of trees</i></b>',
and further west 'spaces of Ground of 3 or 400 Acres with grass growing
within them that you can scarce walk through'." pg 207 (italics and
bold mine)</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think Bruce Pascoe is right in <a href="https://www.news.com.au/technology/environment/indigenous-historian-bruce-pascoe-says-weve-got-our-story-all-wrong/news-story/70518cd1c35efd73c126ec0c19bb8281" target="_blank">this article</a>.
It's time our explorers records and journals were more studied and well
read, especially in light of how much damage we continue to do to this
land with our european farming techniques. It's time we learnt about
the true nature of this land, and it's Original people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'd just like to finish up with a song that me and Currawong believe should be our National Anthem. Thank you for reading :)</span></div>
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-67215202310833876672017-05-14T20:51:00.000+10:002019-05-11T12:27:29.542+10:00Happy Mothers Day Hecate<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As my offering to the world this mothers day, I'd like to acknowledge my genders ancestral shadow. I have a feeling in my bones that it was us, the mothers, who equally chose to settle all those ages ago, and change our indigenous paths from nomadic and semi-nomadic to settlers. It's a fair enough assumption to make, that we decided to stay in one spot and watch the stars, and set up great rock megalithic structures to tell the time and the seasons, to echo the smaller statues we were making at the time, little women with carvings denoting the seasons and the moons, as it corresponded to our moonblood. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://humanpast.net/art/art.htm">Picture from humanpast.net</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So we settled. A hard path in the early days, and one that once started, ate large tracts of land as it grew, sending top soil and seeds to the wind with agriculture. A living system that required new land almost constantly, to move on from the land used up by crops. With new land came the need for warriors, to advance town perimeters and then guard it. And as sophisticated mammals, with our ancient learnings around birth and bonding, we practiced an early form of eugenics, to change the course of our species. The Spartans used to throw their children to the ground after birth to create birth trauma, and thereby warriors, and the Mayans used to bury placentas on battlegrounds to produce the same. Boy children in many cultures around the world were taken away from their family as apprentices, priests or warriors early, to create the suitable grounds of fear, betrayal and abandonment within young boys, to be shaped appropriately into what was required. Not to mention endured often violent initiation or circumcision rituals, all to create the same beaten dog reaction, and ultimately warriors. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Men and Women all over the world have experienced all sorts of top bottom heirarchies, with either sitting at the top regularly. Viking and Celtic cultures had strong women as warriors and head people amongst many others. We've had variously ranging horrific and beatific deities of both genders represented also. In most of our indigenous religions, women and men shared the pantheon of the divine, in both their wondrous and traumatic incarnations. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://xjessey.deviantart.com/art/Hel-Goddess-Of-The-Norse-Underworld-338234746">Hel-Goddess Of The Norse Underworld by xjessey at Deviantart</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yet today there seems to be a worldwide thread of pointing a finger to men, highlighting all the horrors potentially within them, whilst ignoring with deadly silence the three fingers pointing right back at us. Even after rigid and long enduring conditioning by one cultural structure or another over my childhood, insisting on teaching me what was 'right' and 'wrong', which group I should judge against, and which group was better, while valiantly trying to 'educate' me about who were the 'safe' people to play with, I've prevailed by looking intently into every looking glass, rabbit hole, minority group, and experience possible, doing my best to lose judgement all the time. I've visited most every minority group a white woman based in Australia can, in one way or another. And learnt almost instantly that all preconceptions and judgements are usually wrong, when you face up with another human openly and honestly. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I like to think that Currawong and I were born innately equal. In every way. No matter how often either one of us has endured an attempt at domination, we've refused to be dominated by any person or structure. We have no masters, and no servants, we have peers. We met as a recently lesbian feminist and a punk anarchist.......or a leminist and panarchist, and we weren't going to have any pedestals to anything. Currawong, more than any other human I've ever met, treats absolutely everyone with the same dignity. Be they a politician, homeless, wasted, rich, poor, black, white, man, woman or child, he will treat them with exactly the same respect. Maybe it's our Friesian heritage. I think in my heart it is. My lineage from Suidwest Fryslan, about whom it was said they were all born noble, and bowed to no-one, practiced self organising social anarchy 700 years before the French Revolution, having no monarchy or ruling class, and respecting each other as sovereign. I like to say we practice radical equality and acceptance. We've learnt that just about every finger we've pointed at each other has indeed had three fingers pointing back at ourselves. We've grown through the fire of uncomfortable self reflections and mirrors. And had to acknowledge our shadows in the process. Humbly.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGok9VEdM2ho6ksJTgDslX63_BmzKAjbrhswVsdCZPrQ5MVyyNKlX_ze24j0kgqMX05hHco8T_KYdD9LSp74WNftK985wWs9id0cct_b2xmNMi6_94BmUFKf7SXg2E7hes4qv6U2XP_16I/s1600/37968_1498932720539_1450784531_1326731_1476847_n%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGok9VEdM2ho6ksJTgDslX63_BmzKAjbrhswVsdCZPrQ5MVyyNKlX_ze24j0kgqMX05hHco8T_KYdD9LSp74WNftK985wWs9id0cct_b2xmNMi6_94BmUFKf7SXg2E7hes4qv6U2XP_16I/s640/37968_1498932720539_1450784531_1326731_1476847_n%255B1%255D.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Currawong and I when we first met as a Leminist and Panarchist</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I want to step forward and own the shadow of woman, and call Hecate in to illuminate our dark. We can be hateful in our hate and projection, whilst bouncing those arrows everywhere else except for where they belong, in our own hearts. We've whipped up great frenzies and high pitched sonic missiles at the evils that men have perpetuated, but we have evil skeletons hiding in our own skin cloaks. We may not be direct aggressors as much as men, but we certainly know how to emotionally manipulate in the wings to bring clashes to a climax. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've searched many years for a sustainable sisterhood, and practiced with many others the art of brushing over the bumpy bits, and out of respect for privacy and the sanctity of women, hidden my deepest hurts. Which have come from women. My mother, sister and daughter relationships have been harrowing. Glorious in bits but internally shattering. My women friends have been my saviours and my sadists. My first ever kiss, love and sex was with a divine woman.....who broke my young heart with her ex lover. My best friends loved letting me know how much other people hated me. My sisters first 'lover' was also her first counsellor. And the first feminist I ever met, got me kicked out of home when she bravely persuaded me to out the abuse happening in my house, and then just dumped me to cop the backlash. Satisfied with herself once she'd scalped her victim - my stepfather - but not so concerned about how me and my sister weathered the storm. After getting my heart broke by a woman, I surfed the heterosexual world for a while, but always had contact with the gay and lesbian world, through my sister, and then myself, when I became a lesbian after the birth of my first daughter. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My early days as a rad fem, wearing socks down my pants.....</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A lot of the women who traveled those same scenes were either learning or practicing healers, social workers, counsellors, neighborhood centre workers, womens refuge workers, politicians, lawyers, feminists, nurses, writers, musicians or policy writers, who were definitely at the cutting edge of the feminist activist scenes. They were organising dances and workshops and forums and marches and petitions and movements and womens groups and consciousness raising........all while hiding their skeletons. Many of their secret worlds and relationships were very dark and hidden. The first lesbian dance I went to, I was warned to avoid the toilets alone, as I'd get groped, and I narrowly avoided it. One of my friends was working at the local womens refuge with her lover, an indigenous woman, and when her girlfriend got drunk and beat her up, she couldn't even access the refuge, as her lover took precedence, as the indigenous worker. I had a lover who's first 'girlfriend' was her 30 year old woman teacher, when she was 14. Her teacher 'love' not only introduced her to S+M, but used to offer her as a plaything to her other female teacher friends as well. When I got raped at an S+M nightclub by a bunch of women, one of whom was on 'safety' patrol, it took talking to a counsellor at the Gay and Lesbian Anti Violence Project to be believed by my lover and friends, and when the owners of the nightclub found out I'd made a complaint, they tried to find out where I lived so they could send around their henchwomen to beat me up. I went to the office of the magazine Lesbians On The Loose, or LOTL in Sydney, and they told me that they sympathised with me, but would never print my story, because other women didn't need to hear negative stories like that. These are just the extreme stories, but the day to day reality of a lot of the relationships I saw, the hidden addictions, the nasty treatment of men - particularly boy children - that many women had, the secret rivalries, the public demonising of tall poppies, and the vicious power of a nasty tongue were equally traumatic. And all of these stories would barely show up in statistics.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the throes of lesbianism</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the worlds I've trod since then, and since finding the love of my strong hairy man, and challenging ourselves to grow through brutal honesty, and sharing our deepest darkest secrets first thing, and growing through bonding and birthing and the creating of a large family, I've seen a lot and asked a lot of questions, and found similar hiding of deep scarring truths, all to protect the fragile belief of the sanctity of womanhood and motherhood. I've listened to many secret
stories of fellow women, who have similar scars from the wounds given
them by the other women in their lives. Scars they hardly ever talk
about, let alone acknowledge to the world. And I've lost all fantasies of a 'sisterhood', after witnessing the ease with which so many other women have tried to steal my man away from me and our family, mostly right under my nose. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mothers and women aren't always so great. In fact sometimes we can be totally evil. We kill our children. We abuse young men and women at schools and in situations of trust. We make up abuse allegations to get full custody of our kids. We abuse our partners and we rape. We control those around us. We emotionally manipulate people. We're fierce and deadly combatants when we choose, and we victimise people with our victimhood. Women are oppressors as well.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bhmpics.com/the_dark_mother_goddess_kali-wallpapers.html">The Dark Mother Goddess Kali from bhmpics</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We could take those three fingers that are pointing back at us and follow them. Look into ourselves and our deadly aspects and our shadows and our murk. Own our own skeletons in the closet before we chase screaming at other peoples. Witness our own internal worlds of power and domination. And maybe if we did we could see that NOBODY is thriving in this harsh world inherited through the power of the roman empire that supposedly died. None of us have a clear direction forward with no blood on our hands. And the rising toll of men taking their own lives at the hands of a culture that tells them they are all that's wrong with the world, is growing too high.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway. Enough for now. I've been needing to say this for a while. So I thought I would. Happy Mothers Day Hecate you black darling, owner of the dark and hidden secrets of the soul. Here is my offering to you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Gone are the leaves on the Hecate trees</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Shed to the wind till her skeleton claws the sky</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I am alone in a forest of memory</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Dragging behind me the howl of the winter</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hecate</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hecate</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hecate </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">P.S. If you'd like to read a nicer offering to Mothers Day, you can find it <a href="http://spunoutpost.blogspot.com.au/2014/05/mothers-day_11.html">here</a>.</span></div>
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-1481074954223034772017-02-06T20:07:00.000+10:002017-02-06T20:07:10.388+10:00Merlins Quest<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm not sure if anyone's even reading this anymore, but some rather dramatic events have been happening in our lives of late. I've done a pretty comprehensive account of what our family has been going through since the 10th of the 10th 2016, when our 6 year old son Merlin was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia, or ALL, on my web page and new blog. Follow the link if you're interested, and maybe to subscribe, if you want to keep reading my writings and checking out my photos.....</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.hellenapost.com/single-post/2017/02/06/Merlins-Quest"><img alt="https://www.hellenapost.com/single-post/2017/02/06/Merlins-Quest" border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf0GT7iGCSctNf-AIF5oiUcIvegeh-LwujCg4kjjHvIQcgkFOZv0IY6t0myDDZGwy6xGNHbUy8Sxbppa3H6YafRTveKhjcBoFu6fGuyf4ouq36PZIC7Bk8CMjxzc7Ow12k1FJtEpRpg5Wu/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-02-06+at+7.59.20+pm.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-42075651310849345252016-05-10T20:05:00.000+10:002019-05-11T12:03:00.414+10:00Learning At Home<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">There are so many ways of learning at home. So many people willing to tell you the rules and the do's and the don'ts. I came across this <a href="http://www.boredpanda.com/raw-childhood-without-electronic-devices-niki-boon-new-zealand/">beautiful photo blog</a> post the other day, and it inspired me.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We first put our feet on the path when we had a little Griffyn, nearing 5, and his best mate and side kick Lilly, who was always ready to don a cape or a sword, or to play dead.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">After shopping through South Australia and Victoria for schools, we all came to the decision that we'd rather stay together, and homeschool. Or unschool us, in particular, while we learnt from idle parenting, slow parenting, self organisation, Sir Ken Robinson, and life experience.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We've observed and learnt from neuroscience and ethnopaediatrics and attachment parenting, and realised that it's all about bonding. Bonding is given nowhere near enough attention, as it's the glue that holds us all together. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Bonding is what the roman empire, who is still in control of our planet by the way, learnt early how to disrupt, break, and undo, in order to keep their conquered lands conquered. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Bonding is what our indigenous ancestors knew in their relationships with their families, lands, animals and homes. Bonding is what glues all our groups and people together. It's what we're prepared to fight and die for.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Instead of going off to a special place to learn, with a whole bunch of other unattached children their own age, we stay together and bond as a family. We find that we're all learning all the time, in everything we do, and with everyone we meet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We started off being such purists, wanting them to eat only organic, never watch television, have no gadgets, be sheltered from the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But we learnt that through forbidding things, we made them far more tempting. Balance is essential in everything. Especially as they're going to venture into the world where everything is possible. We need to prepare them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So they play, and negotiate, and self organise, and flow around each other and around our life situations, and feel their way into interactions with family always at their backs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">As our family kept growing, there was always someone to play with, someone who was patient, and something going on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We've always lived in rural situations, on communities, or with family, trying our best to live and share with other people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Which has brought out the best and worst, in us and other people. And taught our kids a lot along the way, about relationships, and sharing, and projection and denial. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But we've been there for each other, as a big tribe or mob.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Our kids spend a lot of time laughing and playing and telling each other stories, and we support them in their interests, and follow as far as we can down the rabbit holes with them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Whatever we're doing, whether it's making, learning, gaming, playing or crafting, it's likely we'll have company. We like doing things together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We've also learnt about how amazing it is to have a father as part of our lives, not off working and seen on weekends. A dad who's part of everyday life and living and learning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We've learnt from animals, most especially about life and death, from our environment and surroundings, we've learnt from documentaries, Google and Youtube, games - both on screen and in real life, we've learnt from everything we can lay our hands on or imagine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Even watching tends to be a contact sport. They know all about product placement, and marketing strategies, and how much it will challenge us if they sing us some ads. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I really love what Michael Leunig had to say about learning from life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Well they learn, you see, children want to learn. I think healthy children just, you can't stop them learning and so you've got to provide, it's a matter of provision. You create an environment where they are keen and eager to, and curious, and so, for instance, my daughter, Minna, loves her horses. She has a couple of horses and the horse is the teacher at that point. When they're walking across the paddock, paddock is the teacher, the snake that crawls in front of them is the teacher. When they're helping fix a fence or fix the pump, that is the teacher. Children's eyes go to things, they sparkle when they see something, so you say, "OK, we'll go there. We follow that". <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/tv/enoughrope/transcripts/s1632918.htm">You follow things</a>."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">He also said at the end of his homeschooling process,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"<a href="http://www.smh.com.au/national/leunig-everything-i-believed-has-come-true--their-eagerness-to-learn-is-intact-20090621-cslp.html">Everything I believed has come true - their eagerness to learn is intact</a>,"</span></div>
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-46669636852785274952015-09-25T10:08:00.000+10:002019-05-11T12:41:30.972+10:00Fecund<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My creativity at the moment is totally off the wall. Out of this world. Enthralling. Prolific. Fertile and abundant. Unbelievably so. I'm tripping MYSELF out in fact. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's a combination of, for the first time in 14 years I'm not pregnant or breastfeeding, I'm going through some counselling and bringing parts I'd left behind back to me, and maybe most of all.......being totally picked up and taken for a whirl and a spin and a dizzying plunge into the lust and passion of creation, as led by my resident muse, visiting genius and collaborator.......fibre and Currawong. I also strongly believe there's an element of the reality of living the paradox which is the nature of the universe going on. Which is order and harmony coming from chaos. I don't know about you, but when I had all the time in the world to make and create and explore, I mostly did nothing. But now I got this pack of rowdies, and the utter chaos of detritus and food and noise that follows in their wake, that from such mind bending chaos comes this meditation and therapy and order, as an equal and opposite creation. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">All sorts of yarns are coming together, and being unravelled and repurposed, unmade and remade into something that fits better, both literally and metaphorically.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've finally discovered weaving on a loom, and it's discovered me. And I realise now, that after all these years of mumbling how I wasn't a weaver, every time someone mentioned it, that I could have owned that title after all. I made from scratch a Navaho loom and frame, and wove a little bit right at the beginning of my yarn stories. And did my initiation then I realise, to help me slip right into the stream of weaving, and enjoying the ancient ritual of the warp and the weft.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">On the 28th of August, I unpacked the beautiful <a href="http://www.ashford.co.nz/newsite/weaving-wheels-looms/47/weaving/knitters-loom/moredetail.html">Ashford Knitters Loom</a> I bought from <a href="http://www.craftalley.com.au/">Crafty Alley</a>. And today is exactly 4 weeks since that day, and this is what I've been doing.....</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSze6EglNrUqHyvn3RGmgL7k7GaOqq1UJ-KpoJiFQJnjQpNN2cTaXrMShoXjZ6_YSBLXkC80iCOQjMytG4V3SQ-4XnOwEX8uiOJPAkBr376rFHXsGkCxcivdSCcO9YguyAhyphenhyphen-bQcFFEChE/s1600/DSC09543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSze6EglNrUqHyvn3RGmgL7k7GaOqq1UJ-KpoJiFQJnjQpNN2cTaXrMShoXjZ6_YSBLXkC80iCOQjMytG4V3SQ-4XnOwEX8uiOJPAkBr376rFHXsGkCxcivdSCcO9YguyAhyphenhyphen-bQcFFEChE/s640/DSC09543.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I found myself spending a lot of time doing this while weaving. Just sitting for a moment and feeling it with my hands, rubbing them over the tension and feel of it, enjoying the texture.....</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocH3Ypcimx8VBdI7STXIMpagerkG2I5njKOLw30bupVm8DekIdrKPaUhb4obzuuWPrv7m2txx2h1GDMsbkl0sOY1uEJsPfWlYgBBJldthIIHLBhBmTIqihqrXwean_SVYqRyqHSeYd3Q9/s1600/DSC09579.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocH3Ypcimx8VBdI7STXIMpagerkG2I5njKOLw30bupVm8DekIdrKPaUhb4obzuuWPrv7m2txx2h1GDMsbkl0sOY1uEJsPfWlYgBBJldthIIHLBhBmTIqihqrXwean_SVYqRyqHSeYd3Q9/s640/DSC09579.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnH3WvMmzymWYlUicD5xtP4ixAQm25_znubQOUwao-5zvnFB226bsB6lKAh47yDu0Uvk6DTfLI1PuA9o8VfcwPfyfSclHmWXtqmT6treNqJgDYWx-cmg-UPUVhpzn-IS9UbttSB9-kIm31/s1600/DSC09583.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnH3WvMmzymWYlUicD5xtP4ixAQm25_znubQOUwao-5zvnFB226bsB6lKAh47yDu0Uvk6DTfLI1PuA9o8VfcwPfyfSclHmWXtqmT6treNqJgDYWx-cmg-UPUVhpzn-IS9UbttSB9-kIm31/s640/DSC09583.jpg" width="546" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Such a new yet ancient process! Griff was actually quite proud of me, helping me by holding the warp as I wound it, watching me during the whole time I was making, and he really wanted to be part of this shot. Everyone was enjoying my reactions to weaving, and I went on about it quite a bit, the peaceful and quiet meditation, of the shuttle lacing weft through the warp. This is my first piece :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Two days after discovering it, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/NimbinMarkets?fref=ts">Nimbin Markets </a>was on, and I took my new loom warped up with a new idea along, and in the middle of setting up a stall, kid wrangling, managing to weave a fair bit, talking with some inspired and enthusiastic fibre feelers, and chatting a lot more to other stallholders than I have in a long time......we collectively managed to have this brief and gorgeous little Spontaneous Kaftan Flash Mob. One of the stallholders turned up with a bag full of Kaftans, and what else were we meant to do?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And now that we're talking markets, there's an incredibly inspiring series on the ABC about the Makers Movement, called <a href="http://iview.abc.net.au/programs/bespoke/AC1408T001S00">Bespoke</a>, and I loved so much how we're part of that movement!!! From makers to markets to how it creates community, I so totally recommend watching it....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A very amazing friend of mine from <a href="https://www.facebook.com/NorthernRiversDreaming?fref=ts">Northern Rivers Dreaming</a> took some photos of me weaving at that market that I loved, showing me desperately balling up some orange yarn to use, so I could continue weaving the rainbow I was creating. How lovely is that past sentence, for the literal and metaphorical meanings :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As well as market, there was also the usual cleaning and sorting and tidying up after the chaos of 7 children going on, and I kept up with that end of it, while also at the same time ( and I'm sure that time gets bent by extreme obsession, therapy and meditation ) making all this......</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here's that rainbow I was weaving at the market, along with my first piece beautifully modelled by Mr B, looking exceptionally gorgeous, bright eyed and bushy tailed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also wove another rainbow exactly the same, but on a dark warp instead of a white one,</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEAuZrqtODzACk84_-BlQmobGbKqPB0VSRbhsn59dt64uTX0ElO62Hj10gK5V27axRSoyWbxCj-24_AzpBg1D81rJaPsz71xkhnRd10TqGcBLjwDTk6reuzuCwc7JMnA3O-_yJEXYJ_TU4/s1600/DSC09705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEAuZrqtODzACk84_-BlQmobGbKqPB0VSRbhsn59dt64uTX0ElO62Hj10gK5V27axRSoyWbxCj-24_AzpBg1D81rJaPsz71xkhnRd10TqGcBLjwDTk6reuzuCwc7JMnA3O-_yJEXYJ_TU4/s640/DSC09705.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Spun a whole heap of undyed fleece for warp that would be extra gorgeous and strong,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Spun some extra sensuous dyed tops from my friend at <a href="http://www.ixchelbunny.blogspot.com.au/">Ixchel Angora Bunny & Funky Fibre Art</a>,</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivhLJrG_1tpNwmhK39qMQrvsPVnmPxKluVAa0qz7qKRBLW0VL2S1P_B7GKrJNyDBW6xnmBAtqfZsQEvw8ng2vVmQ-hWoPjM_w1SCShUjQ9VZOr6Owf1ARvfS1vPxHnv4BGt2pS7aqsj0qW/s1600/DSC09718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivhLJrG_1tpNwmhK39qMQrvsPVnmPxKluVAa0qz7qKRBLW0VL2S1P_B7GKrJNyDBW6xnmBAtqfZsQEvw8ng2vVmQ-hWoPjM_w1SCShUjQ9VZOr6Owf1ARvfS1vPxHnv4BGt2pS7aqsj0qW/s640/DSC09718.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Loved up my rainbows....</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxMYkBQSQ13OXOkFyzobtvwHOyBxfpeP2e7OoBykKzKO5ypfEiX4St0eN8-W0PsOuJB2cOhA7ppzRQk8Mw7Emy-ZmjOlsY2ORBgU-raylAd7bMURANgDVfWCrXQNoOSyx38fMbCPR6CmW/s1600/DSC09724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxMYkBQSQ13OXOkFyzobtvwHOyBxfpeP2e7OoBykKzKO5ypfEiX4St0eN8-W0PsOuJB2cOhA7ppzRQk8Mw7Emy-ZmjOlsY2ORBgU-raylAd7bMURANgDVfWCrXQNoOSyx38fMbCPR6CmW/s640/DSC09724.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKti2OC7KNFmx6TXO3viVfi6zYtnPC4ZtyqCa94JUOuPhmf9yeF-D5vHgV5UldSSZfMNioaxwP5OqWZ4-Pf1xs2HMCUGfm0z1s33swgCjQRbTVwkz3hAG7lBXF3ZAyx5Lw8l8FH8JbAqTT/s1600/DSC09727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKti2OC7KNFmx6TXO3viVfi6zYtnPC4ZtyqCa94JUOuPhmf9yeF-D5vHgV5UldSSZfMNioaxwP5OqWZ4-Pf1xs2HMCUGfm0z1s33swgCjQRbTVwkz3hAG7lBXF3ZAyx5Lw8l8FH8JbAqTT/s640/DSC09727.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wove those sensuous tops into a seriously gorgeous woven piece,</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4JEkjm9F93qF3HPpeluzY9nQRrSGDytLjwgwDOzqYOnbaApHCUix_gI5qw8fqcjOvw2pTLCC1-8Rhmciki35iELM3PHXuEB53MG-IXYRLcCvm9goOZypScHEuIID6oFJ9Qs1XQxEEKuUY/s1600/DSC09735.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4JEkjm9F93qF3HPpeluzY9nQRrSGDytLjwgwDOzqYOnbaApHCUix_gI5qw8fqcjOvw2pTLCC1-8Rhmciki35iELM3PHXuEB53MG-IXYRLcCvm9goOZypScHEuIID6oFJ9Qs1XQxEEKuUY/s640/DSC09735.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Carded up a whole bunch of fleece to experiment with making dreads, after an inspiring session of hanging out with a mate who is seriously into costumery and head pieces.....</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif17e_c-RsFWWcknmGNBnUwRPnfpOVoopDS49A5nvCGaF91nYm6fjca0XZMot4Kz9fF40m21RhCABFZ0w9AD_YayFfitK_1DA_CA7kTS-uQTwaJIWWVZnKPAEDUOrujqG_or5ionBeMifr/s1600/DSC09740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif17e_c-RsFWWcknmGNBnUwRPnfpOVoopDS49A5nvCGaF91nYm6fjca0XZMot4Kz9fF40m21RhCABFZ0w9AD_YayFfitK_1DA_CA7kTS-uQTwaJIWWVZnKPAEDUOrujqG_or5ionBeMifr/s640/DSC09740.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wove another piece with some natural grey, that I used for both warp and weft for the beginning, and then added a gorgeous rainbow dyed green to, which was an experiment I loved :)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggztPX-syS3jGbS4mdcXwWfaZQtU9waYIw2u4n2qzbLQP6iX4gm03oxIMU-Otd_wAIXvWyWvlDO6cyLCywSXHK0aOkHFg0s_F4jfTeCVFUpJO4tYfSCKD-7MRQaO6DJBPeyL91UI6G_gL4/s1600/DSC09772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggztPX-syS3jGbS4mdcXwWfaZQtU9waYIw2u4n2qzbLQP6iX4gm03oxIMU-Otd_wAIXvWyWvlDO6cyLCywSXHK0aOkHFg0s_F4jfTeCVFUpJO4tYfSCKD-7MRQaO6DJBPeyL91UI6G_gL4/s640/DSC09772.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Made those dreads as well as starting to make one of a pair of Sextapusses, to add to my Puss collection. Here's my work space, with unspun dyed fleeces, as well as the alpaca I'm using to make Lilly a fibre Pixel, (our darling Pixel died from a snake bite).....</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikjPM4RlJTj1wTSB1_uZBYPCI4Q6sqVg5ximSK7EAbjbJDDBV39mI8L7nCjVb-lknc-JDcFAEQpfbVDzGAuERHI6VHZU-fuGsDSPG-h37k5TgnaSonxLEIsSy08d7PBIJ76bMfBWD5FbLI/s1600/DSC09774.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikjPM4RlJTj1wTSB1_uZBYPCI4Q6sqVg5ximSK7EAbjbJDDBV39mI8L7nCjVb-lknc-JDcFAEQpfbVDzGAuERHI6VHZU-fuGsDSPG-h37k5TgnaSonxLEIsSy08d7PBIJ76bMfBWD5FbLI/s640/DSC09774.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here's my little workspace, near the windows in the kitchen, where all the magic occurs,</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigEdYWe3aB9MEonLDf_LA8oQsHvSyasucdTw6aANRj5o5DLSXEOFwtroaNiOP92e5WPs2LlVjSriiMM1poz-ce-pE8ZQWhjLRH8um4eAYV5gMu0_YVAkEcIBOhqSTFrXDnRmJ5qwOARrgJ/s1600/DSC09776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigEdYWe3aB9MEonLDf_LA8oQsHvSyasucdTw6aANRj5o5DLSXEOFwtroaNiOP92e5WPs2LlVjSriiMM1poz-ce-pE8ZQWhjLRH8um4eAYV5gMu0_YVAkEcIBOhqSTFrXDnRmJ5qwOARrgJ/s640/DSC09776.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And here's a close up of the dreads I made, and my Sextapuss coming into creation,</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaU7p7XvLeWjCg2rk4qzWhZbaQPyB9mxW4dhAElrPXqWVq_wii-TfNnJUvpp10ERImJ2WTnOmNyZIybi77B7G7Yz5r4c9RuVoK9hdr6zLC_LwdfX07wG6QRhrOLByewOWHq32awIWO2wn6/s1600/DSC09777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaU7p7XvLeWjCg2rk4qzWhZbaQPyB9mxW4dhAElrPXqWVq_wii-TfNnJUvpp10ERImJ2WTnOmNyZIybi77B7G7Yz5r4c9RuVoK9hdr6zLC_LwdfX07wG6QRhrOLByewOWHq32awIWO2wn6/s640/DSC09777.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I love the dreads :)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZsNLbHFzgYp7LgFogPRaQmlH5SjgHzHTR0_2NSyEA_J4wrvcgM-809HLdTxs8Sb6mGW4y13YRPSwo_l7TnNulGiKs_MQiCtpLoLHjck3q6AZ8tNhQaRhnpsUlsR3N0i6Zvy1EDX9HeFZ3/s1600/DSC09778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZsNLbHFzgYp7LgFogPRaQmlH5SjgHzHTR0_2NSyEA_J4wrvcgM-809HLdTxs8Sb6mGW4y13YRPSwo_l7TnNulGiKs_MQiCtpLoLHjck3q6AZ8tNhQaRhnpsUlsR3N0i6Zvy1EDX9HeFZ3/s640/DSC09778.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5uJsM6q54ocZatJ-e_ymU_4mUlwD1_fm5WCL305qSYS8Ok_-Cd4RIYvbCQX5joDBQ9FnJn0ODANvl7m_dKi_jdq6YAS5fPdM9U0DFHiJ_z6OTzQuUnX4851YD2VuZ6z3mTtd4Q4AMfm2q/s1600/DSC09934.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5uJsM6q54ocZatJ-e_ymU_4mUlwD1_fm5WCL305qSYS8Ok_-Cd4RIYvbCQX5joDBQ9FnJn0ODANvl7m_dKi_jdq6YAS5fPdM9U0DFHiJ_z6OTzQuUnX4851YD2VuZ6z3mTtd4Q4AMfm2q/s640/DSC09934.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here's the Pixel I made, before he got his fur, with the alpaca he's made from, and now that he's covered in a naturally dyed walnut handspun bunny yarn from Ixchel. He's brought some comfort to Lilly, as she's got a Pixel to sleep with again.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also rewashed the ripped cotton sheeting that was once upon a time, the crocheted seat covers and rugs from our van long ago. These actual skeins used to be the rugs in <a href="http://spunoutpost.blogspot.com.au/2012/08/help.html">these photos.</a>...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19lzQljP1fzta1Fv4AttK4Tx9x3AdJFYWFVAZJXBv1gHTgYhkborfhfHw1Ms0GvTLlnXJvLFVrffHBnhkbwnSc0Yv3qhU8-jF8ayPSZGqfPoGUsD1mPNSn6itT5xljS8xkCPI49d_HNi6/s1600/DSC09784.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19lzQljP1fzta1Fv4AttK4Tx9x3AdJFYWFVAZJXBv1gHTgYhkborfhfHw1Ms0GvTLlnXJvLFVrffHBnhkbwnSc0Yv3qhU8-jF8ayPSZGqfPoGUsD1mPNSn6itT5xljS8xkCPI49d_HNi6/s640/DSC09784.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here's my spinning wheel and carder sitting on the music table, taking a brief moment for a rest....</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPeroyJU65ZuDUxuyM0nT6HGzS5Trofa9B4ZUAKzSZ5Pu7y-d3ael0dL_kudfCJM8p5xMPLbLge64N4D6aHDl0yV94Nd3FrunhU-WVisYp0BrpgG9E08O5YkYAkSTZSQ7Ja6A-QxBJjEgm/s1600/DSC09790.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPeroyJU65ZuDUxuyM0nT6HGzS5Trofa9B4ZUAKzSZ5Pu7y-d3ael0dL_kudfCJM8p5xMPLbLge64N4D6aHDl0yV94Nd3FrunhU-WVisYp0BrpgG9E08O5YkYAkSTZSQ7Ja6A-QxBJjEgm/s640/DSC09790.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWDsHEzRhhWFK1dN4FVvUalngNblYwnoClQH2-AF6wi0feziJHkTiPUL7H6FSObONfElei1QWR6i64Yu9H3iOxCj43Wz3j_VMkojzT9r_YfbfTEKKE7b6DOxZvVljWHjIK_wEvB3zB1gtR/s1600/DSC09793.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWDsHEzRhhWFK1dN4FVvUalngNblYwnoClQH2-AF6wi0feziJHkTiPUL7H6FSObONfElei1QWR6i64Yu9H3iOxCj43Wz3j_VMkojzT9r_YfbfTEKKE7b6DOxZvVljWHjIK_wEvB3zB1gtR/s640/DSC09793.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I turned my first piece into a hood that can be worn with crocheted bits. Beautifully modelled by the stunning Lilly.....</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Y5yrBrnQNa6etMnKx8fJgp_RDSpx0dUFvyYjJU2PwpxrXWU3WVFMYXP8KFJh42-3sqeqjSEl_BvY3sXwRglojTgEqWxl1sCMNqsiK3kqV5Ec9vg9RiD_DqH7h2ZogZxxnuhZe4ZwJKTv/s1600/DSC09795.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Y5yrBrnQNa6etMnKx8fJgp_RDSpx0dUFvyYjJU2PwpxrXWU3WVFMYXP8KFJh42-3sqeqjSEl_BvY3sXwRglojTgEqWxl1sCMNqsiK3kqV5Ec9vg9RiD_DqH7h2ZogZxxnuhZe4ZwJKTv/s640/DSC09795.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So these were all knocked out in two weeks :)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNM0a5NOe0sQoJoDZmGmK8DAEa5RohyphenhyphenpfSmKP8iVCsVxMcCpooJSsxMblsDIz-ddZhcAmB0EwDYqN4fshSMDrRC7zRLcUdatZS7IKHNknZGHexMYD_1Ddcvj9sLIcIL_VO7p6BMtNFmngK/s1600/DSC09798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNM0a5NOe0sQoJoDZmGmK8DAEa5RohyphenhyphenpfSmKP8iVCsVxMcCpooJSsxMblsDIz-ddZhcAmB0EwDYqN4fshSMDrRC7zRLcUdatZS7IKHNknZGHexMYD_1Ddcvj9sLIcIL_VO7p6BMtNFmngK/s640/DSC09798.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG8BTqocDlOA0o0Shph5YOUs1UEup8XcNNO0uiTHUJlsnLCBZ9R_JUUSpl77rJSmgyZLrxDtnSAI072HcZmnzvcIT7F4eU75xyQQqUEbiRU8FhG4ZxBfHAU1FuenKmvfs5MKiuPr-yArtH/s1600/DSC09807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG8BTqocDlOA0o0Shph5YOUs1UEup8XcNNO0uiTHUJlsnLCBZ9R_JUUSpl77rJSmgyZLrxDtnSAI072HcZmnzvcIT7F4eU75xyQQqUEbiRU8FhG4ZxBfHAU1FuenKmvfs5MKiuPr-yArtH/s640/DSC09807.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXQdcuDegh1hckD2tpSdZOeIMf38IA0k-9YHFDeVwHXee9Xd2WMuCVySVTw5ctPm1Q7FhRg0UimPk9vYFth-4G2o3-syTc6XLHWigO3DCutSfVhBuKj5sQmzR-rAF6piqSaPHz6ybB-KsL/s1600/DSC09814.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXQdcuDegh1hckD2tpSdZOeIMf38IA0k-9YHFDeVwHXee9Xd2WMuCVySVTw5ctPm1Q7FhRg0UimPk9vYFth-4G2o3-syTc6XLHWigO3DCutSfVhBuKj5sQmzR-rAF6piqSaPHz6ybB-KsL/s640/DSC09814.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Put a sexy bum and tail on my Sextapuss, cause she has to have six tentacles, and there's five on the head, and her extra one was a tail, while his......</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSf6_5vQbWm8FHKgo9p-udOBaS1W509o-lHUd8K-z2SnXMW6EOlslTYxUkv_pIIjK8j9IT6MLY9KZY4pbDS4xaX7XMHwH1JNByXf42uE-8wQkaYzrxJnmmGMaRP51R2BOoyUJ05Hh-cZ8m/s1600/DSC09820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSf6_5vQbWm8FHKgo9p-udOBaS1W509o-lHUd8K-z2SnXMW6EOlslTYxUkv_pIIjK8j9IT6MLY9KZY4pbDS4xaX7XMHwH1JNByXf42uE-8wQkaYzrxJnmmGMaRP51R2BOoyUJ05Hh-cZ8m/s640/DSC09820.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwbocw9Gv_wlOca8FS96_vMijiv0zMXguUHChyphenhyphenp6QdtUIBA3qL4CXI9KapTAvBRCeUxXhxLTXxc9vqkypzOVaiGbx3-YLdAa_onKqgWa2tLubxNRO3mHXnr6K_IdFkKbOpM6363a4oWTNl/s1600/DSC09823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwbocw9Gv_wlOca8FS96_vMijiv0zMXguUHChyphenhyphenp6QdtUIBA3qL4CXI9KapTAvBRCeUxXhxLTXxc9vqkypzOVaiGbx3-YLdAa_onKqgWa2tLubxNRO3mHXnr6K_IdFkKbOpM6363a4oWTNl/s640/DSC09823.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxO7fTlPKN1-YUX0MF2Bv4olsYEZKBa6d-3DpYNG9NbKEWafWYCG50iWoCxdn9PX22pZbq6FqATV3KAy-eJXQO0ZwLWdy8emSmI4LLSA1accll2blpmnFWK6081ZUob4h2z1S77800amtp/s1600/DSC09826.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxO7fTlPKN1-YUX0MF2Bv4olsYEZKBa6d-3DpYNG9NbKEWafWYCG50iWoCxdn9PX22pZbq6FqATV3KAy-eJXQO0ZwLWdy8emSmI4LLSA1accll2blpmnFWK6081ZUob4h2z1S77800amtp/s640/DSC09826.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Made some drum hats for Currawong's new drums,</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XoNo26RfmoizXNoJr6u-JGnkSa9TqMksGmf8AxqVyvHWD9VqXx1zwhAX-0YZqt2z4pGsJzFfuwMmjUQQMBR6sS9w21-qDYkHMhLZd2zLD0p8UhTNunABBvEYpQxUD0OIKfWJoG_bV8f7/s1600/DSC09852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XoNo26RfmoizXNoJr6u-JGnkSa9TqMksGmf8AxqVyvHWD9VqXx1zwhAX-0YZqt2z4pGsJzFfuwMmjUQQMBR6sS9w21-qDYkHMhLZd2zLD0p8UhTNunABBvEYpQxUD0OIKfWJoG_bV8f7/s640/DSC09852.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wove those ripped sheets that were skeins up above, into this beautiful piece that I've layed on our table, and like everything else that's handmade, in my experience anyway, the cats and animals instantly want to sit on it :) So love this piece, and all the memories contained within it, and how it's been so beautifully repurposed....</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZOpDkgUbsoO3S6Yfs8-qcEaZ3gC8kH6H7pmowNNvuk-8mBl1hFXgGCwU7RoPSoX9aV0nVz9ZxC5YOmcQitjJUtdgu0V_vXqISZS73I70nRH8WrswWDTKpWeV-wVKrPZnf_9oZAKfVwve/s1600/DSC09858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZOpDkgUbsoO3S6Yfs8-qcEaZ3gC8kH6H7pmowNNvuk-8mBl1hFXgGCwU7RoPSoX9aV0nVz9ZxC5YOmcQitjJUtdgu0V_vXqISZS73I70nRH8WrswWDTKpWeV-wVKrPZnf_9oZAKfVwve/s640/DSC09858.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikD_FoDloEX6NHnv5tttTPGptF0s3R3d2O1y5pUZHDSxt-DLt1UXO2yPCndL3UpIvX-RUeDN-ED-eYWJTgcbd4qv8HS1TjpPxx7EepWmXWEUakKDGELjS9tWgvTDi5IJspD_h2tlSqaFuh/s1600/DSC09865.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikD_FoDloEX6NHnv5tttTPGptF0s3R3d2O1y5pUZHDSxt-DLt1UXO2yPCndL3UpIvX-RUeDN-ED-eYWJTgcbd4qv8HS1TjpPxx7EepWmXWEUakKDGELjS9tWgvTDi5IJspD_h2tlSqaFuh/s640/DSC09865.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I finished off the cow skull that I started to make back at our old place, and I'm so please with how it turned out! All two ply undyed handspun, and it's stuffed with the same fleece that I spun it from. I'm getting really good at making shapes from memory, and I had skulls on all of my stalls for years.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVhoD3MvV4UptzlZf1mG4gvbc_Viu3qSpY-XjE_HMQE7IyfbW2whC8v8zJWBej6ZBcurzWqToIduWzzN_PmtFyLYD0mTmjRVmgEL0D16I9_R4GdiSio7_X3UpNnFKmucGnQlHIWEqr43SG/s1600/DSC09869.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVhoD3MvV4UptzlZf1mG4gvbc_Viu3qSpY-XjE_HMQE7IyfbW2whC8v8zJWBej6ZBcurzWqToIduWzzN_PmtFyLYD0mTmjRVmgEL0D16I9_R4GdiSio7_X3UpNnFKmucGnQlHIWEqr43SG/s640/DSC09869.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here's the skull and woven piece, ( I think it's gonna be a curtain or roof cover in our Flo bus) with the cats ALL laying on it, Alaska posing rather nicely, and the skull in the background...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtiAmhnsx9ifUyYxLUB21qacm7CXOffm6txandX8WT_ctHfsrYPM_XR7mvOjCBtS68zE3N5-Qz5GDVoXlOfIacJECiQT7kGpmAapmNKMy61kblGLzk4RA8SsnEAOER3Akbyi1vAmmBLWG/s1600/DSC09483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtiAmhnsx9ifUyYxLUB21qacm7CXOffm6txandX8WT_ctHfsrYPM_XR7mvOjCBtS68zE3N5-Qz5GDVoXlOfIacJECiQT7kGpmAapmNKMy61kblGLzk4RA8SsnEAOER3Akbyi1vAmmBLWG/s640/DSC09483.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5yDHdANSUYlek87_8XxpYO5j2K990dNlb8DPvJQ7tn_g6xOxxpXmONCTZrVhBtCGuqWXUupkZB2dMyrMrwQaX040SAdk-BXnn3kmKBs4ELypqtA121HERTmDEqgSy6sH4hBBDiix5PvAH/s1600/DSC09495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5yDHdANSUYlek87_8XxpYO5j2K990dNlb8DPvJQ7tn_g6xOxxpXmONCTZrVhBtCGuqWXUupkZB2dMyrMrwQaX040SAdk-BXnn3kmKBs4ELypqtA121HERTmDEqgSy6sH4hBBDiix5PvAH/s640/DSC09495.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also finished off my Septapuss, with her inner face that looks like Upsy Daisy, and an outer one that looks like a cuttlefish...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbx1Um85JlMKAG6L0wIAaGypo8SQjpDwdJchfNFwf9dvS59ttbZtiuUjO40r7fESO4NmCSWrclc7_ruHNw1jJ7A7RtAM2XsmeL7-9TKwxtISFWwk02qrymMyGqxTCVQ2h6W6gcKsx7jrqE/s1600/DSC09877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbx1Um85JlMKAG6L0wIAaGypo8SQjpDwdJchfNFwf9dvS59ttbZtiuUjO40r7fESO4NmCSWrclc7_ruHNw1jJ7A7RtAM2XsmeL7-9TKwxtISFWwk02qrymMyGqxTCVQ2h6W6gcKsx7jrqE/s640/DSC09877.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Cat mandala :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And working on the sixth tentacle of my male Sextapuss. Gonna have to also make him a codpiece. In these photos he's getting a knitted foreskin, cause I think that's an important conversation to be had. And I'd like to make beautiful penises, cause lordy knows there's enough vagina and yoni art in the world :) I love how my concept of Sextapusses is a pregnant woman and creatures with genitalia intact....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And while I've been erupting creatively with fibre, my Currawong has been working his utmost on our Flo bus. She sprung a leak and the electricals got flooded about a year ago, and she hasn't been right since then. We spent some time without headlights. Had some major issues to sort out. And the steel work and rust was incomplete, but on it's way to being fixed. It's been a long and arduous journey, and he's put in an extra stellar effort in the last couple of weeks, with our mate who's a redneck farmer on the outside, but hippy genius on the inside (a bit like superman), and together they've pulled it off. Fixed the electrics, lights, all the issues, leaks, and finished off the paintwork. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here's that cow skull on Flo!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And yesterday was our maiden voyage with the cow skull on the front to Nimbin. At first it started off as a joke, and I was talking about how we were hippy camouflaged with our Flo's paint job, but I've realised we ARE actually Nimbin camouflaged, and almost invisible in this colourful town. The other day Currawong dropped me off at the bottom of the street, and then drove slowly the length of town, and I walked uptown to get a coffee, stopping to chat to some loved friends on the way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Didja see the paint job?!" I asked them. (Keep in mind this is a MASSIVE Coaster bus, painted pink and purple and red, looking like a huge colourful brick cruising down the road)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Nah..." they said. And this happened not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES!! I walked up behind, and I knew that they'd all been on the street, but not one of them saw it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Gotta love Nimbin. Where everything is so colourful, the buildings, the people, the vans, the mobile homes, the artworks, the tourist buses.......that our beautifully newly painted bus just blends in, like the ghost who walks, tiptoeing through town without being noticed.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYqVstoSZeNJegMBl_dJrkISmCeru0teStvb5MtzqrjSld1MEaXNJcq5H-kENnYLe-10bEKEHjd93qN4Nmw_nrFWzGHPIS91sJU67Wvhq_snW75AJwiexDm3JGDAdd8mCTYbjjn8WMFhu2/s1600/DSC09929.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYqVstoSZeNJegMBl_dJrkISmCeru0teStvb5MtzqrjSld1MEaXNJcq5H-kENnYLe-10bEKEHjd93qN4Nmw_nrFWzGHPIS91sJU67Wvhq_snW75AJwiexDm3JGDAdd8mCTYbjjn8WMFhu2/s640/DSC09929.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Love how my Currawong blends with her too......funny little story. The colours are based on two singlet tops of Currawong's (pink and purple), and one of mine, a red one. We took them into the paint shop for him to match, and while he was working, Currawong was trying to make conversation, and asked him what the weirdest things were that he'd been asked to match colours to. The paint dude looked up and drolly replied......"Clothes".</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So back to my insanely abundant creativity at the moment......I've got this suitcase full of eyed things, that I'm planning on taking to festivals, schools, and busking, where I'll tell a few stories about how everything is connected, and remembers where it's been, and the history of spinning, and how everything's alive, and then I'm gonna invite people to wear my Pusses, (don't worry, the Sextapusses with be chastely clothed), and dance, and play, and involved themselves in some improvised culture creation! Cause we don't have a culture really do we, as westerners. Tooth fairy, Santa Clause, Easter Bunny, singing songs about people dying from black death (Ring-a-ring-a-rosy), talking about reindeers and snow in the Australian summer..........</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'd really love to be part of helping to create a culture that's relevant to us, and bring out my massive spider web with 14 spokes and a 5 meter diameter, and ask people to grab a spoke and let all other cultures, and languages, and ideas of spirituality from that past GO COMPLETELY, and think about what we could do, us, now, here, with what's important to us, to celebrate together, or dance or sing or anything really. If we had a culture, what would it look like? Feel like? Sound like??</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So here's my suitcase of Eyed Things, going from not many eyes to a few more....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And there's another very exciting event on the horizon. I'm thrilled to be involved with the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Weave-And-Mend-Basketry-Weaving-Festival-1682940488607401/timeline/">Weave and Mend Basketry Festival</a> in a real way finally. When Lilly was about one, about 11 years ago, we were travelling through this area from the Adelaide Hills where we lived, and checking out all the markets as we went. Had a great day at Nimbin Markets by the way. And when we were at The Channon, the most beautiful older woman, with striking grey dreadlocks, who looked like someone I'd really love to get to know, approached me. She told me that her and her fellow weavers were going to hold their first ever Weave and Mend Festival, and asked me if I'd like to come along with my spinning and crochet and join in the creation. I was instantly entranced, delighted with the title of the festival, and WISHED SO HARD that I could go, but we had a promise that we'd made, and we had to head home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I never ever forgot about that festival. During shitty moments, when our relationships were a trial, or it was cold and wet and miserable, or when I was wishing really hard that I could be someplace else, I thought of that Weave and Mend festival, with those amazing people up in the sub tropics, and true crones who knew their worth, amazing baskets being woven, and I vowed to myself that one day I'd make it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So when we finally got back here, all those years later, having driven in from Tenterfield after weeks on the road, can you imagine how amazing it was, when we happened to drive into Nimbin on the very last day of the 9th Weave and Mend Festival? Held in the school grounds, with a colourfully painted food caravan, and kids and swings and textiles and fibres and friendly faces waiting to show us stuff. Lots of tourists and locals and weavers and menders sitting harmoniously and crafting. I blogged about it <a href="http://spunoutpost.blogspot.com.au/2011/10/coming-home.html">here</a>.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And beautiful Raine and Granny Breath Weaver were there, and they watched us for a while, and then came up to us after a bit and said...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"About time you got here, we've been calling you in for a while"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What a welcome and entry to this amazing place :) You can see photos of previous Weave and Mend Festival photos <a href="http://nimbin.nsw.au/index.php/events/weave-mend-festival-photos">here</a>. This year the Festival will be going from the 2nd to the 4th of October, camping in the grounds of the Community Centre where the market gets held, and I'm looking forward to testing out some of those ideas I was mentioning just before.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I so loved what Granny Breath Weaver wrote!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So there you go. That's the incredible amount of creativity and creation and inspiration that's just buzzing all around and out of me at the moment. Stay tuned :)</span></div>
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-84984074833674325322015-08-04T11:45:00.000+10:002019-05-11T12:57:54.825+10:00An Exhibition of Small Things.....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've had a really bittersweet journey with Art Galleries and Exhibitions. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The first group exhibition I ever took part in, was a few hand drawn pictures from my journals that I quickly framed, to hang in the Internet Cafe/Desktop Publishing/Art As Play Workshops/Art Gallery, that was my first ever endeavour into the world of small businesses. It was a joint business, between me doing the internet and computer bit, and a fairly outspoken and well loved local lesbian who did the art bit. We called it the Centre of Innovative Arts, or the CIA, and the sign I had was a triangle with an eye over the top in a circle. I drew it myself. And then designed it on my early desktop publishing programs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Incidentally well before illuminati conspiracies had really started to take hold. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But that was when I was 26, and mostly still wishing I could come anywhere close to calling myself an artist. I hadn't discovered spinning yet, or maybe spinning hadn't yet discovered me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Since that tactile and meditative magic has entered my life though, I've had the opportunity to be involved in quite a few exhibitions and group creative ventures, and it's gone from the sublime to the total rejection on a steady ski jump of a ride. Overall I'd have to say I've truly enjoyed it. Good bits and bad bits. Shadows and all. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But for the purposes of this post, I'll stick to the pleasant side.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was part of a wearable art exhibition in Willunga....</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgujN1T1sRXWQny0lLDOprwSxlhb__bjye0XRdtYhIc4_esxV9Ai19lqr80Kvf0G6pupGlmM7Feobe-DkrmNPhXY5L5cjhuTSppG0V7FMYkLuAzp-IOohyphenhyphenCzSVsk97bYL8J5M9XDss-WOA9/s1600/2003_0802Image0040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgujN1T1sRXWQny0lLDOprwSxlhb__bjye0XRdtYhIc4_esxV9Ai19lqr80Kvf0G6pupGlmM7Feobe-DkrmNPhXY5L5cjhuTSppG0V7FMYkLuAzp-IOohyphenhyphenCzSVsk97bYL8J5M9XDss-WOA9/s640/2003_0802Image0040.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Some dresses on the wall</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">A big blanket I sold for half cash and half massage....</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">My mum and a little Lilly near Ursula and a wrap</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Beanie Festival in Alice Springs.....</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jess and I strutting our stuff</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Beanie Central, where many beanies existed</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-Do7NPjhFjjVy7zX9m7N1YMJpMqjp5Mg7YX39YWfcoiLi3VAp8bvmFZkl5COY2HEQtG0caaAE5fxXiplUEmxtaAOyNXNL8Cu6jzOTkgaVNclUZqZG5S2FxuXGSyAHQ7YjXWtqdw0mh0d/s1600/DSCF0110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-Do7NPjhFjjVy7zX9m7N1YMJpMqjp5Mg7YX39YWfcoiLi3VAp8bvmFZkl5COY2HEQtG0caaAE5fxXiplUEmxtaAOyNXNL8Cu6jzOTkgaVNclUZqZG5S2FxuXGSyAHQ7YjXWtqdw0mh0d/s640/DSCF0110.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Currawong looking rather splendid</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Part of the Fringe in Macclesfield, and incredibly lucky to hang my own work in the entry hall that I shared with the magnificent fibre artist Sandy Soul, to benefit from her many years of experience and expertise in the process. We had such a ball together!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Z2uJazlGXFeGbFR9wUHrM-D3hhl-xquocTtSCrBICFHB1zl-eKCojj-zmOE6HmUTqumxQLrHWFsLyIKATMlpw3c9teHORzcxYl3lzp1DqyYupGUpRPHjoistLj_Fej0DZDubgnv0KIrJ/s1600/2006_0303Image0013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Z2uJazlGXFeGbFR9wUHrM-D3hhl-xquocTtSCrBICFHB1zl-eKCojj-zmOE6HmUTqumxQLrHWFsLyIKATMlpw3c9teHORzcxYl3lzp1DqyYupGUpRPHjoistLj_Fej0DZDubgnv0KIrJ/s640/2006_0303Image0013.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">A crocheted face with my hat "We're all Sheep, except me, I'm a Ram!"</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCflC6XAm0HHJYJcRFXxQHlfeyV1kly1-Ccb35qfK6BHCSv7JuUP31jLLjpKoqSs5r5sJAVQZkmubu8MUhbn_KUpqKSKM4Ie7TyAxu4axo9dYmkd70HxruqXqocjRBwTo7vaIxyeHjHIey/s1600/2006_0316Image0008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCflC6XAm0HHJYJcRFXxQHlfeyV1kly1-Ccb35qfK6BHCSv7JuUP31jLLjpKoqSs5r5sJAVQZkmubu8MUhbn_KUpqKSKM4Ie7TyAxu4axo9dYmkd70HxruqXqocjRBwTo7vaIxyeHjHIey/s640/2006_0316Image0008.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Blankets, Ursula, and a Tail</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Y394TAA6cNbTgJ_6becsCEwtgVkWUpClVJh0Nk4ZaEjsMsR3LyzWuVpE3nxKdCsLpqhMh5DljOkHqLWuY-Y1wr3oKLw0GXC5Bi9ONIKJ1tv01EKEhI1sw37Wv7a4L42qP46BLJ-E224m/s1600/2006_0316Image0027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Y394TAA6cNbTgJ_6becsCEwtgVkWUpClVJh0Nk4ZaEjsMsR3LyzWuVpE3nxKdCsLpqhMh5DljOkHqLWuY-Y1wr3oKLw0GXC5Bi9ONIKJ1tv01EKEhI1sw37Wv7a4L42qP46BLJ-E224m/s640/2006_0316Image0027.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">A whole bunch of wearable art and sculptures. Had so much fun creating this scene</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHo9lve1N5A9pRA8TbOGNID1cFlCSdLOEn-TmW8TT5WFyRz2tO63olxQnsxol2KK28sK5M2h1bX5fhMcGnr87pJqZHiltxNtZ5mvtLGMm-DHCklHOwRvKgkTQtAX2ZaWoQjywBHCrgYx5/s1600/2006_0319Image0138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHo9lve1N5A9pRA8TbOGNID1cFlCSdLOEn-TmW8TT5WFyRz2tO63olxQnsxol2KK28sK5M2h1bX5fhMcGnr87pJqZHiltxNtZ5mvtLGMm-DHCklHOwRvKgkTQtAX2ZaWoQjywBHCrgYx5/s640/2006_0319Image0138.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">My first spinning wheel under the Bat Wings, and the big wooly roof installation</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I created my own studio/gallery in Peterborough, around the time that we were birthing Spiral-Moon. I think I may have been a little ahead of my time in that particular country town though....</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi66Tivyzwcu4qkCuFLxGl5m6TgckrgpPYT_8wrx6M6Fw1QGG9KJy35TTIiyby1uhS3ZLpsjxAkhAG2fIo4GoeURkXOV4Da6E1-vLHoF4rDFt1sLRtFLf6n8AhQw2aq80BBXUadRCKrMW7/s1600/2006_1219Image0016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi66Tivyzwcu4qkCuFLxGl5m6TgckrgpPYT_8wrx6M6Fw1QGG9KJy35TTIiyby1uhS3ZLpsjxAkhAG2fIo4GoeURkXOV4Da6E1-vLHoF4rDFt1sLRtFLf6n8AhQw2aq80BBXUadRCKrMW7/s640/2006_1219Image0016.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lots of wearable art and pumpkins that we grew in the backyard. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And a Currawong taking a picture in the mirror</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiG9VdRArXfAAVeZU6PwpKDrGRASykznxAa31chdNHuZJ6QLyVEDY5yeItqpEbfVGj_I9cIWm8x666pdK5dCU2mhi72Ucn52TwkSYozXmnH5vI7O_NZzaPDLl59mhj2r5gVz1z6pJHoPOE/s1600/2006_1219Image0058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiG9VdRArXfAAVeZU6PwpKDrGRASykznxAa31chdNHuZJ6QLyVEDY5yeItqpEbfVGj_I9cIWm8x666pdK5dCU2mhi72Ucn52TwkSYozXmnH5vI7O_NZzaPDLl59mhj2r5gVz1z6pJHoPOE/s640/2006_1219Image0058.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The main studio gallery part of our house/gallery</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj85tOOYFV0Izbr7wW1l5R9r_mPRCeuIxKaWZbiq6xIbocUum-yxZm1gJy7I3LlPp21WgAi054_AyRo_tERwOGPNa27QBpMtGs_WO7JpBELkh8MOwvTwyuPzXNvHFj_WmSa891G07qzm1me/s1600/2007_0104Image0050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj85tOOYFV0Izbr7wW1l5R9r_mPRCeuIxKaWZbiq6xIbocUum-yxZm1gJy7I3LlPp21WgAi054_AyRo_tERwOGPNa27QBpMtGs_WO7JpBELkh8MOwvTwyuPzXNvHFj_WmSa891G07qzm1me/s640/2007_0104Image0050.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">With spinning wheels and wool bags and an old treadle sewing machine</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4gVtg6t3M-6KC3vLcC8UZ8bTvzw8VIB5EIDqY778lJldJw3LaRBIg-MZL9VYIhNGobCnzeh9w-jJHArnFt1A95r3_QaUcDZvgeLWnsFiK7Djs39BLR3vZeOPEQ9Z2XvilCrZEGVn8n1s/s1600/2007_0104Image0073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4gVtg6t3M-6KC3vLcC8UZ8bTvzw8VIB5EIDqY778lJldJw3LaRBIg-MZL9VYIhNGobCnzeh9w-jJHArnFt1A95r3_QaUcDZvgeLWnsFiK7Djs39BLR3vZeOPEQ9Z2XvilCrZEGVn8n1s/s640/2007_0104Image0073.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Two of my custom made stands for wearable artworks</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiIQYWRpvnDw52xPM3r4QjXnv_7Quj5ssjfO3HOFSrWRiBiHwmRxePh_olnC6fN1wIxu6pbhKds_90sZHQu1j57Q98FOLGDTkonaKvPQp5Sn3FMpMkXPuAKWmYv9tAqylY0k-RjfXSXQWL/s1600/New+Ones+125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiIQYWRpvnDw52xPM3r4QjXnv_7Quj5ssjfO3HOFSrWRiBiHwmRxePh_olnC6fN1wIxu6pbhKds_90sZHQu1j57Q98FOLGDTkonaKvPQp5Sn3FMpMkXPuAKWmYv9tAqylY0k-RjfXSXQWL/s640/New+Ones+125.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Me and Fuzznut in the studio, with Currawongs drums in the background</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKmU1t8oVElHijffgopG0fLwS3fNHeylzM0VoorGq4MUxsSqCzrOhk9OoNHGs_a7Cg32HtHLn44K4VXc0eJBA5BrM46uRbuCjpu5maj2_hBciM4iJkferw3KDzg9DMzYPAf_byodT9NKnk/s1600/New+Ones+130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKmU1t8oVElHijffgopG0fLwS3fNHeylzM0VoorGq4MUxsSqCzrOhk9OoNHGs_a7Cg32HtHLn44K4VXc0eJBA5BrM46uRbuCjpu5maj2_hBciM4iJkferw3KDzg9DMzYPAf_byodT9NKnk/s640/New+Ones+130.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">A hanging piece that I've used many times in many ways</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Scarf Festival in Melbourne.....</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6gUyTGefMLoNVifnyzOdL0x9TzjO9gLF9Jt4PAFHWDzvviw7R7Gr5OX_lKvX9bnNnWtBlpDdOiFL2_lpSDTyN0jSvErrcQ_hRlsX-fSLV990t7UWZPag6pjyzNePmHBrPht25yNzATeDG/s1600/Victoria+Trip+061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6gUyTGefMLoNVifnyzOdL0x9TzjO9gLF9Jt4PAFHWDzvviw7R7Gr5OX_lKvX9bnNnWtBlpDdOiFL2_lpSDTyN0jSvErrcQ_hRlsX-fSLV990t7UWZPag6pjyzNePmHBrPht25yNzATeDG/s640/Victoria+Trip+061.JPG" width="478" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Me holding a little Spiral-Moon, standing next to one of my scarves</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3rGhwecZo3ii5XXQZwaesXgGQnEHZ1sZTN7_02iVjHtGh4D5nqAs5nzWw4WId0llG4Xf3PqhnJDQVmjkXLeTnmWl1CtM5pwjqgh_LU6ImZPhs6lrTyuCYiHbyZj38meoSUZqcZpOHYgN/s1600/Victoria+Trip+062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3rGhwecZo3ii5XXQZwaesXgGQnEHZ1sZTN7_02iVjHtGh4D5nqAs5nzWw4WId0llG4Xf3PqhnJDQVmjkXLeTnmWl1CtM5pwjqgh_LU6ImZPhs6lrTyuCYiHbyZj38meoSUZqcZpOHYgN/s640/Victoria+Trip+062.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">'The Weeping Camel', that the editor of Yarn magazine </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">made them create a special category for, so I could get a special mention</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSlSmYxFd7HWajj4tUbzG-2arHKOBynFfP-l8b-MmTAI3v_E0gP9S3IMcIyqBUJK2y4pcX57UTcBgWb3AtHGJs2vRVWi90bXw58_JDAldoTHuVdI3USmX1RbQM21IYj-0XXUAT3R9Uv-bO/s1600/Victoria+Trip+064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSlSmYxFd7HWajj4tUbzG-2arHKOBynFfP-l8b-MmTAI3v_E0gP9S3IMcIyqBUJK2y4pcX57UTcBgWb3AtHGJs2vRVWi90bXw58_JDAldoTHuVdI3USmX1RbQM21IYj-0XXUAT3R9Uv-bO/s640/Victoria+Trip+064.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our family looking quite small! We thought it was big at the time</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was part of two amazing events called Tribal Fibres as part of the Fringe in Hahndorf, in which Tribal Bellydancers danced to Currawong and other musicians playing improvised music, and wearing my handspun creations along with the wearable art of others. I decked out the stage for both Tribal Fibres events, and had an absolute ball.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRa4czeGX_oktviqJxLPyu_ueOHxQJXRODxxITHnzR_MwWA6fVnFXx1tADSGdfOvNFmsNYF3xtcp0YMcgrigR_OxlpRoQOEUklk3reRChPuqmFEwWN_RXUbImxHdEW3KBq0bZ1sAvXI7lf/s1600/Tribal41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRa4czeGX_oktviqJxLPyu_ueOHxQJXRODxxITHnzR_MwWA6fVnFXx1tADSGdfOvNFmsNYF3xtcp0YMcgrigR_OxlpRoQOEUklk3reRChPuqmFEwWN_RXUbImxHdEW3KBq0bZ1sAvXI7lf/s640/Tribal41.jpg" width="512" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Stunning photo of an incredible dancer called Acushla</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4P9WAw25pVSrVvm71i6B69jChtPfnfwyAtAq0fCit22dvgWlcHdHU1MqPLe33_7Z_gRmxWdki3od5UcrIgoj-0Lwaqnt4YTjDdeFouJOgsLl0u-NDDHrKNi2pRh4H8TfkkQPC5GW0Qlem/s1600/Tribal44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4P9WAw25pVSrVvm71i6B69jChtPfnfwyAtAq0fCit22dvgWlcHdHU1MqPLe33_7Z_gRmxWdki3od5UcrIgoj-0Lwaqnt4YTjDdeFouJOgsLl0u-NDDHrKNi2pRh4H8TfkkQPC5GW0Qlem/s640/Tribal44.jpg" width="512" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">My two favourite outfits of this event</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCIDj-_z8gmPu8_VeBzA-MrssnpEHEMSlltrnKh8lMqh6iAGj6vq6yvIopiWsp2ROmVFzQIezinOu2b7IvCmfCMkHjkUpdffLDoZxHVw-bOP_CwCJJEjFBjJ268ikFtS-FgESdQVsjEzDK/s1600/Tribal53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCIDj-_z8gmPu8_VeBzA-MrssnpEHEMSlltrnKh8lMqh6iAGj6vq6yvIopiWsp2ROmVFzQIezinOu2b7IvCmfCMkHjkUpdffLDoZxHVw-bOP_CwCJJEjFBjJ268ikFtS-FgESdQVsjEzDK/s640/Tribal53.jpg" width="512" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sleeves and a hip belt</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-qG7l7KTVxeiwIQkgyBs2KaQSxSn9rjvQfFiT_mCfgeSiaqSLtxLCY4T3-yrCo0q1i3mV_2d9r1pR-EuOsOZEYlBkdADq-ZJCyxPjvrXm20IL2qTW_4yF4Qas1wAlHBH0TMHuwuzpf1gq/s1600/DSCF0077.rotated.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-qG7l7KTVxeiwIQkgyBs2KaQSxSn9rjvQfFiT_mCfgeSiaqSLtxLCY4T3-yrCo0q1i3mV_2d9r1pR-EuOsOZEYlBkdADq-ZJCyxPjvrXm20IL2qTW_4yF4Qas1wAlHBH0TMHuwuzpf1gq/s640/DSCF0077.rotated.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">My monster spider web and a lot of drapes</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKIIIEzcG35htRrQ-zgPhER-gn3FZZPzoTC1m4i4fx1JKMjhipDgKO8IXiGy4pM_k6aN8lUNE4ds4CsT2r5KHUDOJm_OwIc_5hszHCpA9MS2RuZkfFZqmsJhkKcRfNpDMY_rn8FGHfPSVw/s1600/DSCF0116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKIIIEzcG35htRrQ-zgPhER-gn3FZZPzoTC1m4i4fx1JKMjhipDgKO8IXiGy4pM_k6aN8lUNE4ds4CsT2r5KHUDOJm_OwIc_5hszHCpA9MS2RuZkfFZqmsJhkKcRfNpDMY_rn8FGHfPSVw/s640/DSCF0116.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The boys doing their incredible thing</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMJ_e5VxKTHs8Fm6b_8XNLvJIZVROhwno3AXR7TscxtkQ84BsqWBtQwNER0XL-gM8pBEKLiYXT9vWqQ9l7u_xBAaZSFJZ61yWadKhjVraC3J7wnWqBKHsT5e6870-W_4m1nekw5uQEV8iO/s1600/DSCF0124.rotated.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMJ_e5VxKTHs8Fm6b_8XNLvJIZVROhwno3AXR7TscxtkQ84BsqWBtQwNER0XL-gM8pBEKLiYXT9vWqQ9l7u_xBAaZSFJZ61yWadKhjVraC3J7wnWqBKHsT5e6870-W_4m1nekw5uQEV8iO/s640/DSCF0124.rotated.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Currawong's always liked drumming out of the box</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWW7Qt4oP6zvJTDXVIZs_pkU1-kKY_KH7GcqmTtHJtWrFpKyAkVbPZilQyfeyWC_5ojnJc3GVVAol6B659G_La3_mxZpCwQrpOLVldACY8Qd-VkopnBkQfLLyzoZGZ9DcsxNgycGUyDF0J/s1600/DSCF0133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWW7Qt4oP6zvJTDXVIZs_pkU1-kKY_KH7GcqmTtHJtWrFpKyAkVbPZilQyfeyWC_5ojnJc3GVVAol6B659G_La3_mxZpCwQrpOLVldACY8Qd-VkopnBkQfLLyzoZGZ9DcsxNgycGUyDF0J/s640/DSCF0133.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">My work on display around the edges</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ8m2R2uZSi_nemvU2KEKebjZ18wRilBHg9NOW-s3Rmes9OPKfKVLFFU3BqSkSSHqW1HnskG1bKDUQBOPLhEy-9da6uvrR7KtCUVfqnKpSLuh9raj21B33grqyYyDwh2QCfor6N7ZHR9KL/s1600/DSCF0134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ8m2R2uZSi_nemvU2KEKebjZ18wRilBHg9NOW-s3Rmes9OPKfKVLFFU3BqSkSSHqW1HnskG1bKDUQBOPLhEy-9da6uvrR7KtCUVfqnKpSLuh9raj21B33grqyYyDwh2QCfor6N7ZHR9KL/s640/DSCF0134.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">All these outfits were worn on stage</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsK6kY2-BpEIh8_N2JqpULHcWWCcbgXq31W8lUt1J999Tg3rJYEVxgzMry0u7I64bsOcLxANKPIUhWzySCoChl0dzDTLwH20jRkzCc1NF1MCV2HwzDSQ2liFlvqXX30yruK4SmfDqtZ8VC/s1600/Internet+Explorer+Wallpaper+%252820%2529.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsK6kY2-BpEIh8_N2JqpULHcWWCcbgXq31W8lUt1J999Tg3rJYEVxgzMry0u7I64bsOcLxANKPIUhWzySCoChl0dzDTLwH20jRkzCc1NF1MCV2HwzDSQ2liFlvqXX30yruK4SmfDqtZ8VC/s400/Internet+Explorer+Wallpaper+%252820%2529.bmp" width="300" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The incredible wool cave that I made....</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXj53LiVED1Ic7fS8x30npMybOTr8oTN3C94W4F0Nt-sWFKATohQeKt8WPv4rg_FFaAcp4lM13BeH89-b1pl3TQPrVy44qJYzjDd8b6Jdhb1bG_8y-_FCOtmRdMvYsmb5bchm_tnItUxJ/s1600/Internet+Explorer+Wallpaper+%252821%2529.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXj53LiVED1Ic7fS8x30npMybOTr8oTN3C94W4F0Nt-sWFKATohQeKt8WPv4rg_FFaAcp4lM13BeH89-b1pl3TQPrVy44qJYzjDd8b6Jdhb1bG_8y-_FCOtmRdMvYsmb5bchm_tnItUxJ/s400/Internet+Explorer+Wallpaper+%252821%2529.bmp" width="300" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">That a bellydancer erupted out of!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho04ed0zQmxPl66cTRny8sFRQCAfJEu2EzgLo3HV_yEd8pf_SUAmmjfIcqU9PN1SBq5L4AEi0V2gNy56YDzu3KaFzT7gL2_32Q1diOHkGxhzCmPNRmfzwRzuae39H_CcV9GAXkS2sC3BtQ/s1600/Internet+Explorer+Wallpaper+%25285%2529.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho04ed0zQmxPl66cTRny8sFRQCAfJEu2EzgLo3HV_yEd8pf_SUAmmjfIcqU9PN1SBq5L4AEi0V2gNy56YDzu3KaFzT7gL2_32Q1diOHkGxhzCmPNRmfzwRzuae39H_CcV9GAXkS2sC3BtQ/s400/Internet+Explorer+Wallpaper+%25285%2529.bmp" width="300" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Two spider web skirts, that looked amazing moving</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8czS1QseJv0J8lpELGyEpLfV09C-myQ73khgG3-G3PoVE5EoZHlTHv2BfESNSDu0q8grMmHTiHINLVvX-fCubMGLhG1h4Ik6d0XKNlmO8lfv3OXiK8jj83NZ8IW06LhLsxMyZrPX85l1Y/s1600/Internet+Explorer+Wallpaper+%25289%2529.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8czS1QseJv0J8lpELGyEpLfV09C-myQ73khgG3-G3PoVE5EoZHlTHv2BfESNSDu0q8grMmHTiHINLVvX-fCubMGLhG1h4Ik6d0XKNlmO8lfv3OXiK8jj83NZ8IW06LhLsxMyZrPX85l1Y/s400/Internet+Explorer+Wallpaper+%25289%2529.bmp" width="300" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Like this......whirling dervishes</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCWZcsfAn7-aZWvbslKk7uM1WkU3C3ird8wMWitjrGqtGAI3QIRrW_NrUTFLgRih1dGsnYiepqKIHnDFAIOTsUMjd733dJPWZ01pntNyrrOENtUhQOPTLXrq29gsmhnizwCihCN5_4EyVm/s1600/Internet+Explorer+Wallpaper+%25286%2529.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCWZcsfAn7-aZWvbslKk7uM1WkU3C3ird8wMWitjrGqtGAI3QIRrW_NrUTFLgRih1dGsnYiepqKIHnDFAIOTsUMjd733dJPWZ01pntNyrrOENtUhQOPTLXrq29gsmhnizwCihCN5_4EyVm/s400/Internet+Explorer+Wallpaper+%25286%2529.bmp" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The whole stage, with me and my Fibre Fairy Godmother on stage at either end</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was part of an exhibition at Red Poles in Willunga called 'Unravelled'. We were instructed to get a jumper, pull it apart, and then make a tea cosy out of it, hence the name. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpIpNfse5aiYo_iUvjiTtgnDbrC9F_f2w0xG5rBWaYW385X1ztlz2qlDqpNWguE_5W6OLnfMYxqGwVMgQ5Gk_eo11cM6fX4ewhEnogl-9dvHylzdw-qRZzNiyo6q-akiUrw3GwTVl_uyq/s1600/ermintrudes+trea+cosy+148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpIpNfse5aiYo_iUvjiTtgnDbrC9F_f2w0xG5rBWaYW385X1ztlz2qlDqpNWguE_5W6OLnfMYxqGwVMgQ5Gk_eo11cM6fX4ewhEnogl-9dvHylzdw-qRZzNiyo6q-akiUrw3GwTVl_uyq/s640/ermintrudes+trea+cosy+148.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ermintrudes Tree Cosy looking sharp</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjof-IjJEg0vfxG4aKT_vwVjV19p5AuL00mOieJXrWuXG9qKXB2GaM_2cdvCIid3fOesQvsKJb7rGSMXE2DQf7K5xMYaos1IqJm8bYblID0YE8YQokId_mFH58JmgaM-V6SOaP0Lwg8S_Si/s1600/Photo0041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjof-IjJEg0vfxG4aKT_vwVjV19p5AuL00mOieJXrWuXG9qKXB2GaM_2cdvCIid3fOesQvsKJb7rGSMXE2DQf7K5xMYaos1IqJm8bYblID0YE8YQokId_mFH58JmgaM-V6SOaP0Lwg8S_Si/s640/Photo0041.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sleeves, woolbags, hats on custom made stands, and a crocheted teddy bear</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-sTsfGb9lGOLmdiSLdXXbcu0OKKentjaENEvBB2hFdl6tzWHCyhjbWn8bJz3QKD6BaJFIF5FlJlVd1DiQBbYCRjYNHK7CkWllu3mvNLxO-cPU2FDx4dORDiRziPC4W6u7uCxheqWz1YRD/s1600/Photo0043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-sTsfGb9lGOLmdiSLdXXbcu0OKKentjaENEvBB2hFdl6tzWHCyhjbWn8bJz3QKD6BaJFIF5FlJlVd1DiQBbYCRjYNHK7CkWllu3mvNLxO-cPU2FDx4dORDiRziPC4W6u7uCxheqWz1YRD/s640/Photo0043.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Believe it or not, those wool bags were the most expensive</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">piece of art that I've ever sold!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But the most professionally hung, and I think best looking display of my work that I've seen to date, is happening right now! At The Channon Art Gallery. And will continue for another 2 weeks or so. Curated by the incredible Jeni Allenby, who I'm fortunate enough to have in my life. We've connected over the last couple of years, slowly bumping into each other at our Nimbin Market, the Weave and Mend Festival in Nimbin, and the Fibre Festivals at Blue Knob Farmers Market. And I was a bit thrilled to find that my new friend also happened to have been the curator of the Australian National Gallery in Canberra, in the Fibre and Textiles section no less!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My journey through the 'art' world may have been a bit hit and miss, but to have the attention and interest of such an illustrious person as Jeni has been a serious highlight in my career to date. I told her about some of my more unfortunate experiences along the way, in particular how devastated I was at the way my main hats at the Beanie Festival in Alice Springs had been displayed, and she gave me such a gorgeous reaction that she set me on the path to healing the disappointment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">She paid especial and empathetic attention to hanging my work, and creating a 3D effect with the gloves and hat rather than a flat one. It was so wonderful to see my work look so good :) And for it to be in such gorgeous and illustrious company.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The exhibition is called Small Things.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxH02Px5hbNlyCnV6WuPSzr1nGenzAhdRDgJJpQlt5NA-kQBRvWRqLLHkp_SfiG2nv6naCzeLybQs3NOe2dvMVRqVqujQIp-P3pCgTqqhEZlA_dcUgn27ozxnFffK530tHGKB6oOnmyuVv/s1600/DSC09443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxH02Px5hbNlyCnV6WuPSzr1nGenzAhdRDgJJpQlt5NA-kQBRvWRqLLHkp_SfiG2nv6naCzeLybQs3NOe2dvMVRqVqujQIp-P3pCgTqqhEZlA_dcUgn27ozxnFffK530tHGKB6oOnmyuVv/s400/DSC09443.JPG" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGpDRe-PFGrW6ccZEszKFgJioq7RGnjrEbg0EzUobzpmTpggL9Nj-_pPsN29w7EWooRzF42T8B8xvl5S_o3ZjHzDk7HcHDFuOPydxRh7XVO-CV43Pwft5LYjuuiZq3qkUtcrFGISKFo0RL/s1600/DSC09414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGpDRe-PFGrW6ccZEszKFgJioq7RGnjrEbg0EzUobzpmTpggL9Nj-_pPsN29w7EWooRzF42T8B8xvl5S_o3ZjHzDk7HcHDFuOPydxRh7XVO-CV43Pwft5LYjuuiZq3qkUtcrFGISKFo0RL/s400/DSC09414.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Currawong came along with me to the opening, and we had a blast! Met lots of other funky artists, like the woman who made the bags and fibre baskets above, drank lots of wine (at least I did), ate delightful small nibbles, in keeping with the theme of the exhibition, and decided that I'd thoroughly enjoy doing more of this in my future!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you're keen to check out this exhibition, take yourself to the Facebook page of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/thechannongallery?pnref=story">The Channon Gallery</a> and have a look see :)</span></div>
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-23178405117448338492015-07-11T22:59:00.000+10:002019-05-11T13:08:00.779+10:00The First Day Of The Rest Of My Fibre Career......<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Two weeks ago today, I had the tremendous pleasure of being asked to come to a beautiful yurt and show a group of women how to spin. The wonderful Alice Moffett (who also took all these gorgeous photos), heard about me from someone who had seen me at the Blue Knob Farmers Market Fibre Festival, found me on Facebook, and then made it as easy as she possibly could, for me to turn up and share some spinning stories and inspirations. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvFBFiELHEDLutATVYpPDClrnSh30ECMOgnM4BNm3cCVj-VSvrq0d2-T50hlr-J6pGW53RLTwZMWKPSiNXFfaNsxlADjf2jMSR8INk-11DFQ_3YJaN3wDxfOeH9rC52JRre3VztU3blhPi/s1600/IMG_8278.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvFBFiELHEDLutATVYpPDClrnSh30ECMOgnM4BNm3cCVj-VSvrq0d2-T50hlr-J6pGW53RLTwZMWKPSiNXFfaNsxlADjf2jMSR8INk-11DFQ_3YJaN3wDxfOeH9rC52JRre3VztU3blhPi/s640/IMG_8278.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">It was a real yurt from Mongolia, complete with horsehair rope and felt lining, put up </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">by </span></span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">it's owner </span></span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;">and her close group of friends. Truly inspirational to be in and feel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Got a lift from a dear friend and her little one, and Lilly came along too for the adventure. First thing I did was rock up and spill my fleeces, skeins, crochet hooks, books, creatures, and fibre majicks all over her yurt :) And started telling them stories as I did, all about how there's no 'proper' way to do anything, only your way to find, about the history of spinning and the spinning wheel, a perspective on it from archaic times to modern, and maybe most importantly to me..........the concept of how everything is connected and remembers where it's been. And what we put on the biggest organs of our body (our skin) is important to have nice memories. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I love other people's perceptions on what is photo worthy :)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lilly and Honu sitting with the various creatures.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Showing off crochet hooks whilst sporting a rather spectacular snake tattoo.</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsZPx75Xbjw0yqA8SVGJEbKiuY30JUIhnghE-lGrglyzFGJwQPVvzNEsqzDjBUeF9WOi3UFMISGRd2NjU6Zifqz4fsrd_KmZ6d-i2Z4t0ikwyvhtIyuKs8zCJIZi05i_hzikHR230Iqmp/s1600/IMG_8386.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsZPx75Xbjw0yqA8SVGJEbKiuY30JUIhnghE-lGrglyzFGJwQPVvzNEsqzDjBUeF9WOi3UFMISGRd2NjU6Zifqz4fsrd_KmZ6d-i2Z4t0ikwyvhtIyuKs8zCJIZi05i_hzikHR230Iqmp/s640/IMG_8386.jpeg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Skeins, fleeces, wool bag, hooks...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii1yqdiAzqJbMITq2ZcHu4ybNWHvQvoFz-CqT-5Q9tJvj3M6l6xzQb3xJNKTcqN8CfQscLqOJqwBG-OuR_P25Rz25A1r2VJF8eGvH46Q7aYF2x4euOjXYIcYSWAuB5oosYbc7_OfVq3hq9/s1600/IMG_8271.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii1yqdiAzqJbMITq2ZcHu4ybNWHvQvoFz-CqT-5Q9tJvj3M6l6xzQb3xJNKTcqN8CfQscLqOJqwBG-OuR_P25Rz25A1r2VJF8eGvH46Q7aYF2x4euOjXYIcYSWAuB5oosYbc7_OfVq3hq9/s640/IMG_8271.jpeg" width="366" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Searching for tools to get the spinning wheel spinning.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;">After the basics, we moved onto checking out the beautiful wheels that the lovely Chris, owner of the yurt had, and I showed her how to give them a basic service, and get them going. We started out with learning how to spin, and getting the concept that there's the clockwise and anticlockwise spin, that are the two parts of the yarn whole. First we spin, either way, and then we ply, which has to be the opposite way to the way it was spun. Spinning is putting the twist into raw fleece, and plying is unspinning it round another yarn or thread. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmb_CfjT_g4kSWrjaRhxj8NC4JleiRHawpFzYTQv2ijzj_54pS5qQRB5XSyr9zp8K30q_cwXy2IcJX4_vptko3dieX3N5hNwkeTpIkx-l7unXhinbEDWFlk29pUpBJi-ywxCw8iQerNuZB/s1600/IMG_8307.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="564" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmb_CfjT_g4kSWrjaRhxj8NC4JleiRHawpFzYTQv2ijzj_54pS5qQRB5XSyr9zp8K30q_cwXy2IcJX4_vptko3dieX3N5hNwkeTpIkx-l7unXhinbEDWFlk29pUpBJi-ywxCw8iQerNuZB/s640/IMG_8307.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here's Chris, her beloved dog, her mother sitting on the bed, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">and her spinning wheel that we got humming along sweetly.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc3MsP4H_xZZKJ_Jf_n0BOOi8cyDHO78SywSFk1GcsS_568_CPP2CPmfBnzffozNIZ42Fv1ODnuH66vkkI_1qJRcmIfCi5W36aa5PU9eoxyOmgJGJ8jHlRNjEvypGj2FOG0hfIyNzDGkH4/s1600/IMG_8308.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc3MsP4H_xZZKJ_Jf_n0BOOi8cyDHO78SywSFk1GcsS_568_CPP2CPmfBnzffozNIZ42Fv1ODnuH66vkkI_1qJRcmIfCi5W36aa5PU9eoxyOmgJGJ8jHlRNjEvypGj2FOG0hfIyNzDGkH4/s640/IMG_8308.jpeg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">And her second wheel, which was a gorgeous little upright wheel, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">probably locally made, which is common in the world of spinning.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPItb8HBeFAo2PKaW0Y-zv43ESIntX1HgDZLaqvnWx-jCnZWHFVR6htn1cQYU6CR1WnAclrqXwDEGuZE7w7A2QM7V9JVyAb6_uDoJVuepjv3Ws5Xa_4kUEaaXdOE3Xy0Tq-ObLfSB_NjA8/s1600/IMG_8310.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPItb8HBeFAo2PKaW0Y-zv43ESIntX1HgDZLaqvnWx-jCnZWHFVR6htn1cQYU6CR1WnAclrqXwDEGuZE7w7A2QM7V9JVyAb6_uDoJVuepjv3Ws5Xa_4kUEaaXdOE3Xy0Tq-ObLfSB_NjA8/s640/IMG_8310.jpeg" width="368" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Beautiful elegant lines on this upright wheel, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">one of the nicest ones I've seen in my travels.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLtua5f9_MzuxxZJomrrkB2WYPdzCAIbJId60PNk8k07j0d53XvUeJU3b6RFIE29bKgSHDOCNp9si2siz58wfa3wShykDCJqE2Hi3fjUwNdV4OnmPbU_6oEkpd7T46gYgTvh2MTlF2wCI8/s1600/IMG_8316.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLtua5f9_MzuxxZJomrrkB2WYPdzCAIbJId60PNk8k07j0d53XvUeJU3b6RFIE29bKgSHDOCNp9si2siz58wfa3wShykDCJqE2Hi3fjUwNdV4OnmPbU_6oEkpd7T46gYgTvh2MTlF2wCI8/s640/IMG_8316.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sweet Marina probably listening to me telling her that there's no such thing as a mistake </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">when learning how to spin, and how it's like learning to drive, using feet </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">and hands at the same time, and it takes a while to get the hang of it.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnmbEwGV6YstUULPwqq2QMFB2wODiFwDf5EsHwcNYnuAaJ7gtDwxQqJz5JYev2kud0oMIExbZKwGWncQMwp4BheRMoYHIo8LFPV2KMqT3rYR3FeBc68u877YQ00WbnBTuwBznjI3iy64Vu/s1600/IMG_8371.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnmbEwGV6YstUULPwqq2QMFB2wODiFwDf5EsHwcNYnuAaJ7gtDwxQqJz5JYev2kud0oMIExbZKwGWncQMwp4BheRMoYHIo8LFPV2KMqT3rYR3FeBc68u877YQ00WbnBTuwBznjI3iy64Vu/s640/IMG_8371.jpeg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Most likely saying something like "You're doing perfectly,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> and this is exactly the best way to learn, by just feeling it out".</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We also covered drop spindling briefly, and I showed them how to make rope. Chris took to it instantly, and loved my explanation of how this was like the perfectly balanced yarn, creating it with your hands only, and with both the spins built into each part of it. She really dug the concept of being able to twist anything into rope with this method. And what made it even more special for her (and me), was that the raw fleece she was using, came from a loved sheep of her mothers!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdJSV-AUzyVx8JFepUNpxlnZlxttDWSw9QCVqf_ZnRcFCm_r8WR3tFfyEXd-m2_rxLugTiSFgwUD_JjOJiFDmLaX5M2PwR4m2mI__YU4POxLDShGcwK0UpzIQFIeJnBVHsBMeiYZ83fBkc/s1600/IMG_8372.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdJSV-AUzyVx8JFepUNpxlnZlxttDWSw9QCVqf_ZnRcFCm_r8WR3tFfyEXd-m2_rxLugTiSFgwUD_JjOJiFDmLaX5M2PwR4m2mI__YU4POxLDShGcwK0UpzIQFIeJnBVHsBMeiYZ83fBkc/s640/IMG_8372.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Using her mums fleece, and asking Lilly to hold onto the beginning, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I demonstrated to Chris how to twist rope into being.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvCc0AM9Vfw4HQPUhzD57AMEo_Ia-2Uw0OdeZJa8pFT2JfEN5cDdI66LIt3DyiQJ56V6-8ZxN9Eqf4gJqw2QhaWCyAspMRiqPh209UPYfkVqAnRfdllJB-ht_ZayXuHtRVUjOqd-yWdPHX/s1600/IMG_8375.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvCc0AM9Vfw4HQPUhzD57AMEo_Ia-2Uw0OdeZJa8pFT2JfEN5cDdI66LIt3DyiQJ56V6-8ZxN9Eqf4gJqw2QhaWCyAspMRiqPh209UPYfkVqAnRfdllJB-ht_ZayXuHtRVUjOqd-yWdPHX/s640/IMG_8375.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The raw fleece doesn't have to be prepared in any way, except for thinning it out as you twist. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Check out Lilly's fingernails with the nail polish not quite cleaned off!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVIfLKL0hpBXhFaMaWwFbtyZn0Wf4K_aAZUIjIosqqiCM4eUFcgecdhnBa9hk_nFtntZeWn6Ud7_Xm5EWZYmOG8kOSj_tmmdgDq77wfdVxTakMkI-gzSGjOTS-ucNmCY8uDX9WQgGceQpq/s1600/IMG_8399.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVIfLKL0hpBXhFaMaWwFbtyZn0Wf4K_aAZUIjIosqqiCM4eUFcgecdhnBa9hk_nFtntZeWn6Ud7_Xm5EWZYmOG8kOSj_tmmdgDq77wfdVxTakMkI-gzSGjOTS-ucNmCY8uDX9WQgGceQpq/s640/IMG_8399.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We were both so impressed with how delightful a process rope making was for Chris, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">and she kept going on with the yarn I'd pulled out to show her, till it was all </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">beautifully roped up. Love her angel wings in this photo :)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I also gave them a bit of a tour of some of the things I'd made, letting them try on and play with whatever they liked, and showing off some of my design tips as inspiration for them to make their own things their own way.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYol6vWftRa05WHUbI3qkeYhDCze5TW1ULmKrvPzYN4jtBgp6ypMAFdfjoWeFSLpiD98cTiuHaFYDVRvOU4rZ2KuZgIttDkcIibmE23FeyewbrS5hEolpvoS0g04-juByOULAtQzmwrpqh/s1600/IMG_8382.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYol6vWftRa05WHUbI3qkeYhDCze5TW1ULmKrvPzYN4jtBgp6ypMAFdfjoWeFSLpiD98cTiuHaFYDVRvOU4rZ2KuZgIttDkcIibmE23FeyewbrS5hEolpvoS0g04-juByOULAtQzmwrpqh/s640/IMG_8382.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I do love these moth wings, and how they wrap round your fingers.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">After years of doing markets and festivals, I've learnt the art of squooshing as much information into a tiny portion of time as I possibly can. So all my stories about spinning had large dollops of other concepts I'm passionate about thrown in as well, like self organisation, and the gifting economy, and trust and surrender. There was a gorgeous woman with her baby (I'm so sorry I forgot your name) who REALLY wasn't into crafting, but sat and observed and listened nonetheless. And after all the hurly burly was mostly over, she came up to chat more about some of the other concepts we'd discussed, and I was so glad, that even though crafting wasn't her thing, she still enjoyed herself and was stimulated by the stories. She really dug how a yarn was a physical as well as metaphorical yarn all at the same time.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3MVDaYyL5bYAN3gBSd_jXfyVauZgL6GLqOtoiBhZbYdvkn1HsLB59TAxBXqPU2yApycy9_NORWwgYc6yTyjmPur2WWMCOwPGV2IzKE1uobLFxCqYwHR3jRSQ8pgTcTzS7r2cZ-J87tbsn/s1600/IMG_8381.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3MVDaYyL5bYAN3gBSd_jXfyVauZgL6GLqOtoiBhZbYdvkn1HsLB59TAxBXqPU2yApycy9_NORWwgYc6yTyjmPur2WWMCOwPGV2IzKE1uobLFxCqYwHR3jRSQ8pgTcTzS7r2cZ-J87tbsn/s640/IMG_8381.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chris's mum and the gorgeous mamma on the bed.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I reckon my most favourite moment of the whole event, that really sums up what I love so much about my chosen field, was this precious moment, when Chris was having a go on my wheel, (My Little Gem, the Rolls Royce of spinning wheels no less) spinning some of her mothers sheep fleece.</span></div>
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</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1b_lIsTNLGrolbqV2f2Kj2y7KetW6nLn6nOkvvGtF7hctnpEFypJGy6MeBWhC2P4BSQ2t5CZ6i3Zg5T2Zz350FPsmtCMLQLDkpiHKzoxLQM9AmFNhqmbPpKFxcPj2-SnVBcRrZ-4HH1h/s1600/IMG_8367.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1b_lIsTNLGrolbqV2f2Kj2y7KetW6nLn6nOkvvGtF7hctnpEFypJGy6MeBWhC2P4BSQ2t5CZ6i3Zg5T2Zz350FPsmtCMLQLDkpiHKzoxLQM9AmFNhqmbPpKFxcPj2-SnVBcRrZ-4HH1h/s640/IMG_8367.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Such a beautiful photo.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">She was talking to her mum about the sheep, (forgot his name too), and what he did when her mum fed him. They had this warm moment of reminiscence about the sheep, while she was spinning some of her first yarn, which was all perfectly big and chunky and bobbly and full of character, as your first yarn always is. And as I was winding her first yarn into a ball, I told them all how perfect that was, to be talking about the sheep whilst spinning his fleece, full of his memories of living with her mum, and how much he loved her in his coat, while her mum was listening, and there was oxytocic bonding, and all of that went into the yarn, and would be held in it's memory forever. How gorgeous is that?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I did the whole thing by donation, and only realised in doing it, what a perfect way it would be to make a living from living. On my own terms, having a real life adventure and meeting new people, who are already interested in what I have so much passion for, that I'd do it for free. It's like all the best bits of the markets and festivals I've done over the years, but being able to connect directly with people already curious, rather than trawling through a whole bunch of totally uninterested ones. Spontaneous and unpredictable enough to keep me engaged. In person, instead of on the internet, which never really worked for me with the fibre feeling thing. So inspiring to do, that I forgot about time, and the whole thing left me feeling charged and energised. And almost like a party plan for my book. Cause when folk have met me, they often feel they'd like to keep a bit of me. Which my book certainly is.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Even though a lot of people (and me), get a good giggle about how there's not that many things that I have that are actually for sale, and I leave just about everyone with the statement from Aileen Stace about how 'spinning's not something you BUY, spinning's something you DO!'.....there always is the odd thing that can be coerced out of me with trade or swap or donation or cash. So a few skeins or yarns found a new home, and as a last leaving I showed them how to create a centre pull ball on a rolled up piece of paper. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Started off with holding the skein around my knees, old fashioned way...</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then Lilly kindly offered to hold the skein and make the ball winding easier for me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Lilly was a huge hit at the session, had some awesome conversations, and</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMIzcfPMsbxwJjkaQhzU5mE3fSeuAr_z3h3DBVBkLEkzIKgBszy2pJE0_BNZqNADroyRmgEw2_hCLJxtasMjzpR69spx0lc7z5_-T90wURroJmOHOOybE_cXBR6vyB3sAzbxgSnQDe1XUP/s1600/IMG_8422.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMIzcfPMsbxwJjkaQhzU5mE3fSeuAr_z3h3DBVBkLEkzIKgBszy2pJE0_BNZqNADroyRmgEw2_hCLJxtasMjzpR69spx0lc7z5_-T90wURroJmOHOOybE_cXBR6vyB3sAzbxgSnQDe1XUP/s640/IMG_8422.jpeg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Telling a story and obviously incredulous about something.....</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">But look at that ball!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I guess what I'm saying is.......to help me in my quest of bringing back the 70's Fibre Revolution, and making a living from living, I'm up for coming just about anywhere, anytime (bit like the Goodies), and sharing whatever skills I have, with all the stories that seem to come with me, and we'll all have a lot of fun :) Schools, festivals, communities, interest groups, friends, whoever, whatever, just contact me and we can work something out. If it's appropriate, the whole family circus could come along, with some drums, and some dancing and big family energy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think this is a very exciting installation in this journey I'm on. </span></div>
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<br />Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-67352285227039824652015-06-12T20:26:00.000+10:002019-05-11T13:14:58.918+10:00The Friesian<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">After my adventures with the Wait A While vine colliding with my crochet and creating the Staghorn piece, and it making its debut at Nimbin's Mardi Grass on the luscious body of Nerelle, it was a bit of an anti-climax to have it sitting folded up and looking rather folorn on Currawongs drum in our home. Inspired by the upcoming Fibre Festival at Blue Knob Farmers Market (and realising that in the rush of Mardi Grass, I'd not gotten my staghorn piece into the Fibre Festival exhibition at Blue Knob Gallery in time), I decided to make my own stand for it, to show it off, and take it along to the festival instead, and use it to lush out the stage I'd been asked to dress for the Fibre Festival.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also decided to polish up and improve on the hat design that came from a collaboration between me, my Fibre Fairy Godmothers fleece turned into hand dyed and spun yarn, the Wait A While vine, my particular and quirky method of crocheting or hooking using hook sizes to shape rather than increasing or decreasing, and whichever divine genius or genie that was visiting at the time. For a really incredibly engaging and quite magical explanation of this form of genius, please watch this TED talk by Elizabeth Gilbert....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now from the moment we turned up ridiculously early to the Festival, I was playing stage dresser, and setting up my display, and chatting to loved friends, and goggling at others creations, and then being the first cab off the rank with the talks, and spontaneously talking and telling stories through both my time period and the missing next persons, and having a delightful and meaningful experience with a couple who ended up taking my crocheted pregnant woman for a world trip holiday, and catching the inspiring and impressive talk and presentation by Jen Harkness and Jeni Allenby on the political and social implications of Craftivism, with an impromptu update by the Knitting Nannas at the end.......and I didn't take any photos! I wore the hat I've called the Friesian the whole time, and got more comments and attention from it in such a short time, than just about anything else I've made. But fortunately, my beautiful friend <a href="http://artnomadix-meg.blogspot.com.au/">Megan Jack</a> who was our travelling mentor many years ago, when we first met in Alice Springs at the Beanie Festival, took a photo of me giving my talk. And you can just see the bottom of my Staghorn piece on it's stand in the background. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As the next day happened to be a Nimbin Market day, and all my stuff was packed anyway, I took it all along to dress the stage at market too. Don't know if my big spiderweb had anything to do with the spectacular performance by our resident stage facilitator Sarah Stando and her love, the talented guitarist who treated us to a sparkling rendition of a variety of Oz pop and rock songs, or indeed anything to do with dragging into our web the two French couples, who turned up independently of each other, to serenade and entrance us all with French songs and melodies, but I like to think it had something to do with it at least. And same as the Fibre Festival, I didn't take any photos of that day either, but it was a month when we had two markets in a row, so I took it all along the next sunday as well, this time managing to take some photos afterall. The next sunday we had the soulful Jolanda Moyle singing on stage in front of my web, amongst other musical artists.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the 'Friesian' continued to attract intense attention all day both sundays, not least by my skater artist mate Franco ( who also loved my crochet cow skull, that he reckons would look rad on his skateboard), and some soul family had already started begging me to make them one. It was too warm to wear it on the sunday I managed to take photos, but it hung out in my stall nonetheless. Which was happening to look pretty gorgeous if I may say so myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I was too </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi956ivGQtQeTlQyZEiOQ2O1HL0hl63g7E54JtDjYNJDaHZQObrU0FU4jY4WwLE7ucvGQEal_OilmAOwYR_UDdpyjg38_sxYzKkDdzRryCpgXox0EFs3oUinp4q4HJo5EORkrwPhngHmpdV/s1600/DSC09205.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi956ivGQtQeTlQyZEiOQ2O1HL0hl63g7E54JtDjYNJDaHZQObrU0FU4jY4WwLE7ucvGQEal_OilmAOwYR_UDdpyjg38_sxYzKkDdzRryCpgXox0EFs3oUinp4q4HJo5EORkrwPhngHmpdV/s640/DSC09205.jpg" width="462" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4OXJTL44k87GAEvE3m7o6yq-Z-9yp4L_Zb0XO_xfcPlKV1qt-3C1j0V4pbv-A1nfDSN3TDMQVRyXPgaW2QkONZE7fY5I3zFRzMQYH8h2jyht4IOjwp-RmHA2bKxKSGx1LznZpUxY4_jSY/s1600/DSC09207.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4OXJTL44k87GAEvE3m7o6yq-Z-9yp4L_Zb0XO_xfcPlKV1qt-3C1j0V4pbv-A1nfDSN3TDMQVRyXPgaW2QkONZE7fY5I3zFRzMQYH8h2jyht4IOjwp-RmHA2bKxKSGx1LznZpUxY4_jSY/s640/DSC09207.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the background of this one you can clearly see the first incarnationof the Friesian, before I made my red and purple version</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now Currawong's been asking me for YEARS to have some stock standard pieces, that I can replicate to make money from, AS WELL as continuing to be an artist and making one off creations, but I've always staunchly refused, told him I'm not a factory, and said if he liked that idea so much he should go and learn to crochet. But the Friesian is so gorgeous, and apparently universally appealing, that I'm considering pimping myself, in order to birth this head gear into the world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1BmCgHd9gPJppbYZzy8QPsEJQQ0CuqzyoNc0vM7E5epgoKJTN65ZeG8-LV6mLih0nIn6ZHe6nlDXpVg5SkCKYk6m1cXacXRdaiOsH4bGG7u_wZg0z8rYRGUrmytM1uveREOpP7HRDlwiz/s1600/DSC09197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1BmCgHd9gPJppbYZzy8QPsEJQQ0CuqzyoNc0vM7E5epgoKJTN65ZeG8-LV6mLih0nIn6ZHe6nlDXpVg5SkCKYk6m1cXacXRdaiOsH4bGG7u_wZg0z8rYRGUrmytM1uveREOpP7HRDlwiz/s640/DSC09197.JPG" width="450" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There's something ancestrally evocative about this intuited design. Harking back to our differing cultural heritages, and a more peaceful, gentle and connected time. A pagan headpiece or a 1920's art deco diva's headwear. A medieval Florentinians head adornment, or a gracious musical movie headdress.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnFcRf-Q0vpwW2y5ghiIlRQB9uz1H5tXLuZCVzcnjTXCDKXNeFYvZNtI-3CRmEMqCaqhzHJez69PrRr5MasImJt2XT7DSbarrqb16d4hqVYh0FTenxffm0FmoH-ixRQEzP_yUUHeLEf_ci/s1600/DSC09198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnFcRf-Q0vpwW2y5ghiIlRQB9uz1H5tXLuZCVzcnjTXCDKXNeFYvZNtI-3CRmEMqCaqhzHJez69PrRr5MasImJt2XT7DSbarrqb16d4hqVYh0FTenxffm0FmoH-ixRQEzP_yUUHeLEf_ci/s640/DSC09198.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And there's almost a geometric mandala like essence to especially the top of it, where my method of crafting with hook sizes rather than increasing stitches gives a lovely openness in the crown of the piece.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's a dress for your head, or a head-dress. And can be worn in many ways. If I list one on Etsy I'll pay especial attention to showing all the ways it can transform.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgddRYaiIIU_QdU7nNJolHiNMPHB3rjU8_Fek89NHSwEXE3YSj8U_WRTSFPRE8VJEfCDWoUDI37c0ruVwkAVtFJt0FM6TFj_r9plHAFeTYY9C12M8LgnjqCsNlPek2LkqZDMnAiEpYkmcnI/s1600/DSC09202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgddRYaiIIU_QdU7nNJolHiNMPHB3rjU8_Fek89NHSwEXE3YSj8U_WRTSFPRE8VJEfCDWoUDI37c0ruVwkAVtFJt0FM6TFj_r9plHAFeTYY9C12M8LgnjqCsNlPek2LkqZDMnAiEpYkmcnI/s640/DSC09202.JPG" width="628" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5d0VAxqC_93fGWew7R6C_sKNYrzqZHSWisjBdlDQZKamaly4NQT-yNil_efs4Be5QPqgRR2qtsUOnjMN15yCcDYohseBnePNCk1wfGHioxfWYpijuwwds_ByRH8XKMZsK-XeZeXZ7zYjf/s1600/DSC09203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5d0VAxqC_93fGWew7R6C_sKNYrzqZHSWisjBdlDQZKamaly4NQT-yNil_efs4Be5QPqgRR2qtsUOnjMN15yCcDYohseBnePNCk1wfGHioxfWYpijuwwds_ByRH8XKMZsK-XeZeXZ7zYjf/s640/DSC09203.JPG" width="376" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And now here comes the trippy part. In preparation for this post, I was coming up with all this arty farty rave about my Friesian heritage, and clutching at straws a bit about the little I knew at the time about the golden skull caps that my women ancestors wore, and then the coverings they made to cover them. And inspired by various things, I've decided to do 7 artworks in honour of the Seven Sisters, or Pleiades, and was researching into alternative names and meanings of the constellation, cause I'll be damned if I'm going to honour the greek or roman versions, which are fairly tawdry and uninspiring. So I've been looking into my Viking heritage, and incidentally, the Pleiades were often called Freya's hens, and compared to a hen with chicks. But I got totally distracted when I found a few blogs with my ancestors traditional costumes and daily wear. This <a href="http://pinsndls.com/2012/12/06/mystery-monday-oorijzer/">blogpost</a> was amazing, and taught me that the golden skull cap was actually called an oorijzer, which is Friesian for 'ear iron'.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4ypdJWqy53jiZIpK-rjgb5LF4pBSkSf7maWZMPYv2ZFRDZfLoQpoEae7Rg2V4E6sjXJuyD2Q1dR3mFwnuRJ8_X1iJtSkLCsxPHX4y23nhoVnojnYbbkYyvDQI3zHfWcrXeekYQZyG21p/s1600/mm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4ypdJWqy53jiZIpK-rjgb5LF4pBSkSf7maWZMPYv2ZFRDZfLoQpoEae7Rg2V4E6sjXJuyD2Q1dR3mFwnuRJ8_X1iJtSkLCsxPHX4y23nhoVnojnYbbkYyvDQI3zHfWcrXeekYQZyG21p/s640/mm.jpg" width="560" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Which was placed on a head, to show status, and to also hold cloth on the head in the strong Friesian wind, and had beautifully crafted lace caps and frills attached to the clips on the side.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWAkBUtVeH4wiQ1L6BtVuf8Xq4W4TRsZpxdCsAY-lO6zt_s9azQ2HJDLHi4gIitwQW3h8LzCdMRXzuKvDHyJ-IhG0oLXlif-btBfFrSXPnWMxFkxesjxI_XaTtiEs_-Z0k64euvYCkfZOO/s1600/eariron4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWAkBUtVeH4wiQ1L6BtVuf8Xq4W4TRsZpxdCsAY-lO6zt_s9azQ2HJDLHi4gIitwQW3h8LzCdMRXzuKvDHyJ-IhG0oLXlif-btBfFrSXPnWMxFkxesjxI_XaTtiEs_-Z0k64euvYCkfZOO/s640/eariron4.jpg" width="582" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And to be honest they're kinda kooky. I LOVE IT!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqh25SKVnx0O2SXV-spAgfy1pRnXxdRRmVawpT8a8PsANW8B-a8JDrMpVDid_8oE2K5TDuaIS_w-NKvVit__fb-QoMk1Y039Wakj6l8APku9DF9AOF7q71bvlWE1GcZZEpV7UQMkwjpPU-/s1600/eariron2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqh25SKVnx0O2SXV-spAgfy1pRnXxdRRmVawpT8a8PsANW8B-a8JDrMpVDid_8oE2K5TDuaIS_w-NKvVit__fb-QoMk1Y039Wakj6l8APku9DF9AOF7q71bvlWE1GcZZEpV7UQMkwjpPU-/s640/eariron2.jpg" width="568" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then I found a <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/31243791139951763/">Pinterest page</a> full of Friesian or Fryslan costumes, and it touched something deep in me. To see all these images of richly coloured people, knowing that my ancestors would have looked like some of them. I've loved looking at traditional costumes for years, having no idea that my own ancestry held such gorgeous ones. So traditionally, women wore the oorijzer, had beautiful lace over the gold skull cap, held on by clasps on the sides of their heads, and then went into the spectacular for hats and head-dresses to wear over it all. And I'll be buggered if I didn't soon come across something that looked a bit like my Friesian!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSImQGZNtTBtJkKWmC5RQYv5TZH2y32krlr4GfLaLgB4WmwQ5ETB3eR29BTGGRqhZRHZ-ATy6n92OT6lvq-CP9oMj99kSlOLID2sgMWv0Jxv-IIPqPP5voHKLd-a7ib1IA6Qzic_2KqZd1/s1600/4ff7225469d685fcb2ef926bece6b8ba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSImQGZNtTBtJkKWmC5RQYv5TZH2y32krlr4GfLaLgB4WmwQ5ETB3eR29BTGGRqhZRHZ-ATy6n92OT6lvq-CP9oMj99kSlOLID2sgMWv0Jxv-IIPqPP5voHKLd-a7ib1IA6Qzic_2KqZd1/s640/4ff7225469d685fcb2ef926bece6b8ba.jpg" width="416" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I loved this photo too. I so believe that I can see echoes of my kinda pirate/gypsy/earth mamma/crochet creatrix fashion sense in her outfit!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpR0dKqqPGi_qrXw9omoHKpXwdN1I_wNPf8GGiAhmjlBGGvpJczv4SPwW5r-chNkSSrgoeGpaL9D3rGxUp8XwlpcOLFvmKGpR6QC1fbkvRp1P4-ONy2SY7iQWZmRNyTysU04yOqm7n_m3/s1600/118468bcf14613da4bac4b7f99bf5aaa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpR0dKqqPGi_qrXw9omoHKpXwdN1I_wNPf8GGiAhmjlBGGvpJczv4SPwW5r-chNkSSrgoeGpaL9D3rGxUp8XwlpcOLFvmKGpR6QC1fbkvRp1P4-ONy2SY7iQWZmRNyTysU04yOqm7n_m3/s640/118468bcf14613da4bac4b7f99bf5aaa.jpg" width="404" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another beautiful woman in her outfit, and I suspect that at some point in the not too distant future, there will be some kind of creation coming out of me like this head-dress....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy0rTFTVcg4IvkQC9-szTtZs-KriPXSVYXBXASdgOKjjVVWbCoaFiI00zMNx5HOTr6mreD5ckS2FAtLLb2H8UyKNuNDtDgZrEjaJt624UabaUPkLGM9ANVHQF_ZQIb1hyFlnGkIekI6JLQ/s1600/e3c7935939f8b29e5d400f5a29ac16dd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy0rTFTVcg4IvkQC9-szTtZs-KriPXSVYXBXASdgOKjjVVWbCoaFiI00zMNx5HOTr6mreD5ckS2FAtLLb2H8UyKNuNDtDgZrEjaJt624UabaUPkLGM9ANVHQF_ZQIb1hyFlnGkIekI6JLQ/s640/e3c7935939f8b29e5d400f5a29ac16dd.jpg" width="448" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then I found another blogpost about the folk costumes of Friesland, and I got another surprise. Ever since the Wait A While vine came into my life, I've been talking about making a big top hat with it. I was telling folk it was gonna be all 4 Non Blondes like, (remember that big leather top hat with the goggles?), and you coulda blown me away with a feather when I saw this one......</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF0viUlrgCuG9DNotDt7XWkvj5qD6tq9sfu1aA33u_F13La5spW_cj09F_PyWVw4l1xMF8sMHcyRQ-s5nhouR1SKp0q9ITrJnp4tFwp-qg2w8LakAzEvoBOIK8gn5PdxPeuzgvNEs6wEqT/s1600/Gardilanne+03s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF0viUlrgCuG9DNotDt7XWkvj5qD6tq9sfu1aA33u_F13La5spW_cj09F_PyWVw4l1xMF8sMHcyRQ-s5nhouR1SKp0q9ITrJnp4tFwp-qg2w8LakAzEvoBOIK8gn5PdxPeuzgvNEs6wEqT/s640/Gardilanne+03s.jpg" width="500" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Don't worry, I'm in the process of having a crack at one as we speak. I'm so impressed I've got top hat in my heritage :) I actually found the visual of this picture above after I'd had Currawongs and my appetites totally whet by a description of them in a book written by Sacheverell Sitwell - The Netherlands; A Study of Some Aspects of Art, Costume and Social Life - written in 1948. If you're curious about the delicious way the outfits were explained, read on a page and a half in till you see the reference to the 'labyrinth' of Friesland, Molkwerum, <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=VqNK4279VnIC&pg=PT71&dq=netherlands+a+study+of+some+aspects+of+art+costume+gold+skull+cap&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0CB0Q6AEwAGoVChMItrLOrIWFxgIVpC6mCh0-KQBq#v=onepage&q=netherlands%20a%20study%20of%20some%20aspects%20of%20art%20costume%20gold%20skull%20cap&f=false">here</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I doubt any of you reading will remember, but long ago on this blog, I was talking about making myself a <a href="http://spunoutpost.blogspot.com.au/2011/06/on-road-again.html">journeywoman</a> belt, and taking my hooks and tool belt on the road, to find my fortunes, and I was tremendously impressed when I found some actual photos of the Friesian tradition of wearing one's tools, purse, scissors, needles, hooks etc, on one's apron. Like thus...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoVpBTFeGL4yJUGaV0cTxkjtP_6Iw2TexInEwFq8vH1IlsN0vdU4VZqK9xRQ1ca1yr919a6rEnYqLFyqAkRkrxv4ISIIwRFxz8spi-q16ZiWWB97g1e-2oIbD8bQvK7MK7HMnI6-nTsuAP/s1600/Image121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoVpBTFeGL4yJUGaV0cTxkjtP_6Iw2TexInEwFq8vH1IlsN0vdU4VZqK9xRQ1ca1yr919a6rEnYqLFyqAkRkrxv4ISIIwRFxz8spi-q16ZiWWB97g1e-2oIbD8bQvK7MK7HMnI6-nTsuAP/s640/Image121.jpg" width="486" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yes. I know. So much for the short blog post. But anyone who knows me should have realised when I set the goal, that I was dreaming the impossible dream. I find it impossible to be short winded. I complimented a supermarket woman on the coles internet site, and the compliment turned into a short story :) So to finish up properly, I really need to mention a massive inspiration to this whole Wait A While vine intervention. And from the moment I've seen how it worked and moved and sat, I've been holding her art in my head like a flame. With the joyous fusion between me, the vine, my crochet, and whichever genie visits, I like to think I can take a step closer to the magnificent creative and inspirational force that is the unique style of my Fibre Heroine Goddess <a href="https://mandygreer.wordpress.com/">Mandy Greer</a>, and her wildly magical and sumptuous artworks in all their manifestations. One of my very first favourite pieces of hers, is a headress with circles of crochet, and though the Friesian is nowhere near as spectacular, I'd like to think it's a spiritual relative of it at least. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2T3RZjqs0hBFE7pfrrnOiCsp0tywttgrzodIZSRejzjEvCFRuRKpru4XmhTi57CBhkdY0bgEcNETQmOa5FED4by4vyeCJFsRHxUI_pRJniVhbP-EwmYK0ULxsAIg7ni49hfcb2JIb2dUk/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2T3RZjqs0hBFE7pfrrnOiCsp0tywttgrzodIZSRejzjEvCFRuRKpru4XmhTi57CBhkdY0bgEcNETQmOa5FED4by4vyeCJFsRHxUI_pRJniVhbP-EwmYK0ULxsAIg7ni49hfcb2JIb2dUk/s640/images-1.jpeg" width="411" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you really want to treat your eyes to a delicious visual feast, just go to her <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/mandygreer/page4">Flickr page</a> and see what fibre genius really looks like. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So stay tuned fellow groovers, cause I seem to be on a roll......</span></div>
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-68558696400398939602015-05-07T08:48:00.000+10:002019-05-11T13:21:14.550+10:00Happy Mardi Grass<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;">After three and a half years around Nimbin, we finally made it to the
Mardi Grass.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;">And I really got
it.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;">Got why people have been
sternly correcting me every time that I said Mardi Gras, instead of Mardi
GRASS!</span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;">Got why it’s such a huge
deal around town.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;">Got why so many
varied people put in so much effort and organisation and love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">By all accounts we picked the best Mardi Grass in a long time to go, as
it rained like Noah was just about to jump in his ark with two of everything
the day before it started, keeping away everyone but the diehards – and the
locals. It wasn’t as packed as
normal, so there was a peaceful and convivial vibe, and many ended up feeling
like it was a massive local party.
The Rainbow Region’s talent was on display in every nook and cranny.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Two beautiful friends of mine had asked for a bit of crochet magic for
their costumes, and Nerelle was totally up for wearing the staghorn based
costume I’ve been dreaming of making since we got here. She also introduced me to the Wait A
While vine, which is the material I’ve been needing for years to replace wire
in my sculptural creations, (it was such an exciting find!) and I outdid myself
in terms of spectacular, so I just HAD to go along to the parade, and witness
my creations doing their thing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">From the moment we got to town, and felt the vibe, I jumped the
barricades into the parade to play ‘fashion photographer to the stars’, like I
was telling everyone I knew in my huge excitement. And the magic of Mardi Grass unfurled before me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After being part of many parades and festivals of many towns and
countries in my time, the biggest thing to hit me was that this was a festival
that actually MEANS something to the people that celebrate it. It’s culturally relevant to our town,
which is the centre of hemp education in Australia, helping folk to see beyond
the stereotypes around it as a drug, to it’s curative and restorative
properties, as well as it’s fibres, ability to grow so quickly thereby soaking
up 3 times the carbon dioxide as regrowth forests, and potential to replace
every paper, fibre, plastic and oil……….sustainably and responsibly. Did you know Henry Ford made a car in
the 1930’s, made totally from top to bottom in hemp for example? Many folk in this region have positive
stories to tell you about hemp, from healing their cancers and headaches, to
making their anxiety easier, to meditation and enlightenment. And when they say ‘Happy Mardi Grass’
to you, it’s a heart felt, culturally relevant, and meaningful saying. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It’s also the only festival I’ve ever been to, where Original
Australians head the parade, not as a token effort, but as a reflection of the
deep honour and respect that Original Australians hold in our town. Even more poignant in this situation,
as elsewhere in the country, the renegade rednecks that are pretending to
represent our country, are in the process of shutting down Original
Communities, as their continued perpetuation of genocide on Original
Australians. So it was very important
that our local Originals led, and set the tone with smudging the sacred herb
and stories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Next up in the parade, was the Ganga Queen, a local pregnant woman,
taking her honour space as a celebration of the fertility of this area. I didn’t know about this tradition till
seeing it, and it truly touched my heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And then came my beautiful love Chantelle, who I had the privilege of
making a skirt and wings for, looking like a Druidic style Ganga Priestess, and
leading in the luscious Ganga Fairies.
She looked so divine, and graceful, and powerful, and serene, that I just had to take
lots of photos.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After the Ganga Priestess, came the Ganga Fairies, (many people’s
favourite bit of the parade no less), who with EXTREME colour and enthusiasm,
and carefully crafted costumes, energetically did their dance all over the
parade. Their high spirits were
totally infectious.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And then of course, a random piece with two hilarious men who were in
character all day…….and with not much visibly to do with ganga at all :)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I’m not doing much justice to the rest of the parade, with so many
incredible costumes, concepts, and people, but to be fair, I was so obsessed
with taking good photos of my pieces and loved ones in the parade, that I
became a bit tunnel visoned <span style="font-family: "wingdings";">:)</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once I’d taken enough photos of the front of the parade, I worked my way
to the back, to find my beautiful love Nerelle, who was going to do her unique
and amazing thing in my Staghorn costume.
It took me a little while to find her, bursting with curiosity about how
it was going to look on her, ( I made this piece in a record 4 days, and had to
finish off the tail before I could deliver it to her at her stall in the market
area, and hadn’t seen it on her completed yet!), but find her I did!! Looking totally amazing, with purple
body paint on her beautiful nude mamma’s body, green nipples and spirals on her
breasts, and embodying the Forest Goddess that she actually is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Finding her was one thing, but keeping up with her was another, as she
was so into her Forest Fairy persona, asking people to plant tree’s for the forest, and giving them a high five if they promised, and I MEAN PROMISED to
REALLY plant a tree that year, and flitting all over the parade. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And then came an event that signifies to me the true sovereign spirit of
Nimbin, which welcomes and accepts all with open hearts as long as they harm
none. To give you a bit of a
perspective on this wonderful event, I need to give you some background. The relationship between the police and
the folk of Nimbin is traditionally strained at best, with lots of water under
lots of bridges. When there was a
fire in Nimbin, which burned out the heart of our town, taking away the Museum
and the Rainbow Café, the local police put in for a grant to do a big drug
blitzkrieg with an overwhelming amount of buses and officers, hoping to get the
town while it was down. Harrasment
and intimidation has been rife, with police taking dogs through Nimbin Market,
and performing all sorts of unfair actions. For a sleepy peaceful hippy town, the police presence is far
over represented. I’ve personally
witnessed plain clothes police selling ganga to tourists and then arresting
them, which is entrapment at best, and harassment at worst. Everyone in town it seems has a story
to tell about unfair treatment by police.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When the parade was coming towards the police station in town, a crowd
formed around the police standing in front, and there was some chanting and
finger pointing going on, and as a veteran of many protests and actions, I
could feel the mood starting to swing towards aggressive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria"; font-size: large;">Enter stage left our
beloved Forest Fairy, going down to build a bridge over some roiling
waters. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was out of earshot, but Nerelle told me later how it went, so for the
sake of continuity, I’ll tell you what happened here. Our beautiful Forest Fairy went straight up to the new cop
in town, and said she’d heard she’d joined in the tug of war the day before,
and she’d wondered how it went.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Were there any injuries she asked?
To which the new cop in town, (bless her heart), said ‘Yes actually, I
got a bruise right here….’ By the
way, I love the concern expressed by the Forest Fairies hands clenched to her
chest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">They continued to chat for a bit, finding out more about each other. <span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And then Michael Balderstone, who many call the unofficial mayor of
Nimbin, came up to join in the chat, with a bit more of a political agenda.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Till our Forest Fairy said ‘Not now Michael, we’re talking about her
bruise actually….’ And they all
returned to light hearted banter and discussion of the bruise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Nerelle told our new friend that she had a stall at Nimbin Market, and
if she came along, she had some balm for her bruise, they could have a visit
over some chai, and hang out some
more. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And once the invitation was made, it was accepted with a handshake,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And our beautiful Forest Fairy took her hand to her bountiful breast,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pushed all politics aside with a group hug,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6R6imvKR9rdADdCGJd__RB2dAfGp9z3vLxhPWij1Lc04EteBIMVqADp4vXunP8gG4i2WV1JH6S1nisWYWFy8ogtpIJwFjkd8o3QElsAwa5GWYB0fe1yqYHx9ZfDHlArCLDOTN1Fptx_Zt/s1600/DSC09024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6R6imvKR9rdADdCGJd__RB2dAfGp9z3vLxhPWij1Lc04EteBIMVqADp4vXunP8gG4i2WV1JH6S1nisWYWFy8ogtpIJwFjkd8o3QElsAwa5GWYB0fe1yqYHx9ZfDHlArCLDOTN1Fptx_Zt/s640/DSC09024.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And then came the photo of the year <span style="font-family: "wingdings";">:)</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As an organiser of the Nimbin Market, and an avid lover of this town and
all it represents, this town that I hope to grow in till I die, from the bottom
of my heart I hope that this beautiful photo is a sign of changes and shifts
and relationships to come. And the
beginning of an improved relationship between the folk of Nimbin and those
sworn to protect them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then off down the street we went again, towards the end of the parade,
and there came another classic moment.
Our Forest Fairy noticed the Roller Derby girls, and said ‘Come roll
over me!’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Roller Derby gals are pretty darn cute afterall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That was supposed to be it for the parade, but when you’re a Forest
Fairy, it’s never over! We walked
around the back of Nimbin to where all the speeches and music were happening,
and when standing in the mud, she said, ‘Come on Hellena! Come into the mud and the earth with me!’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">‘And look what happens to be over here!’ she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4_fgdJNoKKw0n938NAGWRY48-RqFAwyk_j-cGwChW36n3BNR3hhNq2SF2OrIN3Sd5AhwVs3CL9ib_IlrV3jkhkoa0wgBTVdzdHbdtUf_WBVlC6opAsZHzhDlvnNtDG7iEK-rx1ak8Maj/s1600/DSC09042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4_fgdJNoKKw0n938NAGWRY48-RqFAwyk_j-cGwChW36n3BNR3hhNq2SF2OrIN3Sd5AhwVs3CL9ib_IlrV3jkhkoa0wgBTVdzdHbdtUf_WBVlC6opAsZHzhDlvnNtDG7iEK-rx1ak8Maj/s640/DSC09042.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">‘It’s a Staghorn!’ she said.
And as the artist of the staghorn piece, I like to think that you can
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHHmkc3MTFJb8DcXeNpKq_cPzxt-ZKGrclAsB7OQ_8QqQNGMCrayEfoZusurgWLeRILF3CzibzZECaSNK6QtGNBwKkCINpHcIZzk_zd0Cdtb2Ely2RPJbKnHFdUJrxIZJqeb7PJv4prCj2/s1600/DSC09044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHHmkc3MTFJb8DcXeNpKq_cPzxt-ZKGrclAsB7OQ_8QqQNGMCrayEfoZusurgWLeRILF3CzibzZECaSNK6QtGNBwKkCINpHcIZzk_zd0Cdtb2Ely2RPJbKnHFdUJrxIZJqeb7PJv4prCj2/s640/DSC09044.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">On an emotional high from such a gorgeous day, and with such a luscious model, in
such a greenly beautiful place, we just had to pause for some photos.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-9MPUhCAWXbJr1OJY-JfUh5ydVdcS_efpylcFFLQHTSzJ5CPasCLgoHaw-s_tWyZO8wW_Ny7r2G4unErsQlOx1cINEwmOCOQlplQ2DPZlIOJqQAeKDfFHiFLindri5JiwK5sQ8qvsx8e/s1600/DSC09047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-9MPUhCAWXbJr1OJY-JfUh5ydVdcS_efpylcFFLQHTSzJ5CPasCLgoHaw-s_tWyZO8wW_Ny7r2G4unErsQlOx1cINEwmOCOQlplQ2DPZlIOJqQAeKDfFHiFLindri5JiwK5sQ8qvsx8e/s640/DSC09047.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Gotta admit I love this shot the most....</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp4bHFOIOmNnoAOUX7e5-QHDwvbN32bwzCjN5KzXfAx8YPjHb0qJpBq7EIFSHZr4zspkNqXFHe696pfGJpC_e2iphiobA6jCmAccQk4JNu6kKS-SHYGBsjW8yJ5wcNxhwVgV-zXJ4siAO9/s1600/DSC09052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp4bHFOIOmNnoAOUX7e5-QHDwvbN32bwzCjN5KzXfAx8YPjHb0qJpBq7EIFSHZr4zspkNqXFHe696pfGJpC_e2iphiobA6jCmAccQk4JNu6kKS-SHYGBsjW8yJ5wcNxhwVgV-zXJ4siAO9/s640/DSC09052.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We stopped by the stage for a bit, but then we were back off up the street, to see what fun could be had! What's kinda funny about the next shot, is that I didn't even realise my two gorgeous daughters were in it until the day after :) Like I kept telling people afterwards, all I could really see was Chantelle and Nerelle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVn9MkS2xJEaHzTDlmA4vefs-oo8V4dyZqCK7w3i7kW8_8QqiDWk1OzWJGpGSEtdUTpW5aq6ueIKC-sDeS71GvLapdE-uUX6vB8hbIYBE6F2bckXlaFKam1BcQ65dDqcb9TS-2TuBZ8sr_/s1600/DSC09075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVn9MkS2xJEaHzTDlmA4vefs-oo8V4dyZqCK7w3i7kW8_8QqiDWk1OzWJGpGSEtdUTpW5aq6ueIKC-sDeS71GvLapdE-uUX6vB8hbIYBE6F2bckXlaFKam1BcQ65dDqcb9TS-2TuBZ8sr_/s640/DSC09075.jpg" width="464" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I love the movement in that tail....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTGOUP5NM4syTKOhX1EwZur5rfaSlWb1N64vY25lYyBztzwmZaZksLYn2SPDW7zjHKZr5wZ_ppWuyQYch1UOc6ZQZHxKbca-gXI21C5_LcjD1Xv2j87Nsc1YNevW0wFo36Xkzn52MQBBJ1/s1600/DSC09076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTGOUP5NM4syTKOhX1EwZur5rfaSlWb1N64vY25lYyBztzwmZaZksLYn2SPDW7zjHKZr5wZ_ppWuyQYch1UOc6ZQZHxKbca-gXI21C5_LcjD1Xv2j87Nsc1YNevW0wFo36Xkzn52MQBBJ1/s640/DSC09076.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">On the famous Nimbin pedestrian crossing, where hens and roosters dare to cross.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBNJZ6cdeA0ELt-p2x1sislktxqWx9gMsg1iErDtJyMMaqdLSTyPQZTyQAQgWDSWahgYc-RPDfFP_29_IuEGBLXTqFBnrEh1VR2GWfXseFuEa0B70IPYHJJ22WWZd-8qbfWDrewbik4jaq/s1600/DSC09080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBNJZ6cdeA0ELt-p2x1sislktxqWx9gMsg1iErDtJyMMaqdLSTyPQZTyQAQgWDSWahgYc-RPDfFP_29_IuEGBLXTqFBnrEh1VR2GWfXseFuEa0B70IPYHJJ22WWZd-8qbfWDrewbik4jaq/s640/DSC09080.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And dancing it up with some muso's on the street.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vWnG4jlCXhpfFxiholDRJfoP6KDSIdj-OhIUeDZCUPdQowE2T8nQVW4yH_fCua2shJpB4_liWNy1Qa3ZEo9FMGUhgJzeS9NdnLl5-2kivlJuQnjYJVXwCU1TEzbvVbKtGhvnHRweQ68c/s1600/DSC09098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vWnG4jlCXhpfFxiholDRJfoP6KDSIdj-OhIUeDZCUPdQowE2T8nQVW4yH_fCua2shJpB4_liWNy1Qa3ZEo9FMGUhgJzeS9NdnLl5-2kivlJuQnjYJVXwCU1TEzbvVbKtGhvnHRweQ68c/s640/DSC09098.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6r8ro3JERX-VQxURrKgcX8fEbZwZoyMAuPYyLCdBl5yvRhZ7mUYDTmLjwaEzjTjzTWGayiobJondfRPTlVB-EJ82IkGspGY3DUj5Z1KxembnOWrfyXW-NISXbNHta6gPF71jn-BWcffSS/s1600/DSC09102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6r8ro3JERX-VQxURrKgcX8fEbZwZoyMAuPYyLCdBl5yvRhZ7mUYDTmLjwaEzjTjzTWGayiobJondfRPTlVB-EJ82IkGspGY3DUj5Z1KxembnOWrfyXW-NISXbNHta6gPF71jn-BWcffSS/s640/DSC09102.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">On the way we bumped into our very loved house guests, and this time I could see someone else :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmuJN6xe-lTJz9majPX28ZJiz4Oy-G_8o1Kp92KfoKi7mH0G54IqYCr47QZy4mR_Wiuiox36bdGSk-b_QAFKQrrh0M8LHb0QPDaFrULkzO855Q-69_EGW4ujKWk0g6udwCkJp8OteYFeRX/s1600/DSC09136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmuJN6xe-lTJz9majPX28ZJiz4Oy-G_8o1Kp92KfoKi7mH0G54IqYCr47QZy4mR_Wiuiox36bdGSk-b_QAFKQrrh0M8LHb0QPDaFrULkzO855Q-69_EGW4ujKWk0g6udwCkJp8OteYFeRX/s640/DSC09136.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Had to visit some shops on the way, and our Forest Fairies hand had been cleansed of the purple paint by the amount of high fives and promises she'd gotten from folks to plant a tree.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWivulcAp3954ByPAIY25OHn2ZrX9FFYfYYn31OvAeLgNh2qa1szItXKIDOOYeCbnhI52JFdG0JCNkNNjEU2J23K-wXl8PZgEg5vnu7BUlwSgm9S1_M3mGZOr4yW-mCvbeBQZMdn2jwM00/s1600/DSC09153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWivulcAp3954ByPAIY25OHn2ZrX9FFYfYYn31OvAeLgNh2qa1szItXKIDOOYeCbnhI52JFdG0JCNkNNjEU2J23K-wXl8PZgEg5vnu7BUlwSgm9S1_M3mGZOr4yW-mCvbeBQZMdn2jwM00/s640/DSC09153.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglLpoZKBxJXDnxj4nTOSFI_OoyZDvWysn_vS6FootDZNeTacD2Pwyd9qAVKfCGzosR_AsAfsg3yg8iXDS8xgdTm7-QdPSzJKll6l6eVc4T2_27aOmtUYwKJUd-N0HXsBHRmPmgddJ4KfdL/s1600/DSC09155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglLpoZKBxJXDnxj4nTOSFI_OoyZDvWysn_vS6FootDZNeTacD2Pwyd9qAVKfCGzosR_AsAfsg3yg8iXDS8xgdTm7-QdPSzJKll6l6eVc4T2_27aOmtUYwKJUd-N0HXsBHRmPmgddJ4KfdL/s640/DSC09155.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you'd like a more well rounded representation of Nimbin's Mardi Grass as a video, please check this out, to get some of the glorious details I missed out in my obsessive chase of my gals.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is just a smattering of the people and events of the weekend that I was priveleged and honoured to be a part of. I finally got my towns festival. And I totally and absolutely loved it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Happy Mardi Grass!!</span></div>
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<br />Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-71019064408560924892015-01-17T20:50:00.000+10:002019-06-24T17:17:34.833+10:00It's Such A Perfect Day<span style="font-size: large;">This is the year I'm going to try and get the hang of the short blog post.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's also the year that I'm diving into the whole concept of the gifting economy, and taking the energy that I'm sick to death of using in trying to work how I can 'get' things, and instead focusing on what I can give, trusting in the self organised flow of life to work out the getting, without me having to worry about it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And just today we had about the most perfect kind of a day that I could imagine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's going through a hot phase up here in the sub-tropics, and through our lives of little to do with money in a search for authenticity, we've perfected the arts of money free ways of keeping cool. After spending another rather hot day yesterday mowing lawns and moving round furniture for a dear heart family member, we decided today was the day to spend laying around in the shade, near another heart family members spring fed dam, with a little island in the middle sprouting palm trees. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The day before yesterday, an old dead Tea Tree that the kids loved to climb on fell down, so Currawong cut it up into firewood sized pieces, and we noticed that the lush hard wood had plenty of likely looking twigs and branches, and decided to try our hands at making crochet hooks and knitting needles. So day before last we spent crafting hooks and needles and clothes and hair pins out of Tea Tree in the shade, spread out on rugs and cushions, with all our tools and my special tins with beads and crystals and shells, blissing out creating. Mr B not only made himself a hook, but crocheted a neat necklace as well. Spiral made a wand, and so did I, Currawong a huge crochet hook and 6 large buttons, and I also made a hook and set of slender knitting needles. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday was the kind of soul food, that only giving to a beautiful human with a huge heart can feed, and then today was spent in the early cool continuing crochet hooks, and sanding on our rug and cushion nest, having a splendid visit from a new and deep friend, and then travelling up and over and around our magical mountain, to visit our family's best mate. He showed us more of the crochet hooks HE'D been making, along with some Huon Pine rings and bracelets he'd crafted, which was the inspiration for us to try our hands at them in the first place, and we had some tucker, swapped some stories, and headed for the dam.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Swimming in a spring fed dam, in the dappled shade, and floating on yer back, looking up at the sky displaying cotton puff clouds, with ears underwater, hearing your own heartbeat, and the organic noises of a busy dam.............would have to be one of the nicest things ever to do on a hot and humid day. Me and Lilly swam round and round floating gently on the top, while I told her about how much I loved having my ears underwater, listening to my own heartbeat. And how I first discovered that love, when I was birthing her in my first ever birthing pool. With my eyes closed, and my ears underwater echoing my heartbeat, I could totally traverse the strong and intense uterine worlds of birthing. Everything and everyone else disappeared while I was under, and it was just me and my heart. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The hottest part of the day was spent sitting on a crochet rag rug, with my homemade swag for whichever baby wanted to sleep in the shade, dipping in the dam, floating watching clouds, or carving and sanding the little wood things we were making. We brought an esky with yumsome food and a few cold homebrews to picnic with, while we chatted about all the things that go on in our days, and our plans for adventures and creations.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We've got this beat up old volvo, that couldn't be registered anymore, so we use it to drive on the private roads between our places, and Currawong and Lilly pulled out a spray can one day and decorated it. There's a skull and crossbones on the bonnet, and love hearts, and unique Lilly designs, and they dubbed it the 'Ovlov Of Love'. And driving back home in the ovlov, sun setting behind the trees, and Griff brushing up on his driving skills with Currawong by his side, I remembered something I saw on facebook a while ago. Something about how a person who has the freedom to choose what they do with their days, is a rich person indeed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I really got how free we are, and encourage our children to be, and how it truly is a rich state of being, that I treasure above just about everything else.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Blessings to the Freedom Seekers.</span></div>
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-69165899128875679752014-11-11T08:03:00.000+10:002019-06-24T17:18:42.553+10:00Sex<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">A while ago I was asked by a friend to write a piece for a book that she was going to create, with letters from all sorts of people, written to a young woman on the cusp of her dawning womanhood and sexuality. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">And this is what I wrote........</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">As you step up
to your sexual life, surrounded by all the messages that have been gifted to
you whether you wanted them or not, about men and women and sex, all those
fairytales of princes and princesses, and the wishing and hoping that you’ve
felt all your life from people around you……</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">There’s just one
thing that I really want you to know.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">Your sexuality
can change. Drastically. And it’s up to you and how deep you’re
willing to dive into yourself and your authentic reality, and get to know and
love yourself, as to how deep you’ll dive into a sexual relationship. So many people think that their sexuality is just something
they’re born with, and that they have to make the best of what they’ve got, but
in my experience, that just isn’t the case.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">I bristled into
the world of sexuality at 16, with my travelling bags packed with all sorts of
other peoples baggage. The main
baggage stowed away in my bags was from my mother. A fundamentalist Christian, she informed me often that men
were rabid beasts, that would rape me at the drop of a hat, ( I must admit that
thought kind of excited me with the thrill of danger) and that it was up to me
to stay decorus in all occasions, and make sure I didn’t egg them on. She also told me that using a tampon
was like having sex, so not to use them till after I was married. I was so disappointed when I used my
first tampon off in the bush, borrowed from a friends mum, and embarrassedly
tried to ‘get it in’. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">In order to get
over that, I had to fuck a lot of people.
I also started off the sexual game with absolutely no self esteem or
sense of boundaries, so my experiences were a mix of pretty foul and
surprisingly sexy to start off with.
Peppered with the odd spray of a delightful and respectful experience
with a random man or woman. I
would valiantly attempt to have sex with just about anyone that suggested
it. After an emotionally cold and
physically frigid childhood, any attention at all was cause for gratitude in
me. But despite my utmost
attempts…….my cunt was clamped shut.
I’ve only ever heard about this condition occurring in old women, and
called something to do with walnuts, but I know it’s possible, cause it
happened to me. I had many a man
dedicatedly try to enter my centre of sex, and be totally unsuccessful. They weren’t just half hearted attempts
either. One gentle man even bathed
me and massaged me all over, but I was barred to all access. I travelled round Europe for a year,
going home with all sorts of men, some even just rolling round on the grass in
the dark in a park, and never managed to have proper sex. They all came around the general
region, but they never penetrated my warm castle. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">Because I was so
easy, I was treated as one that you liked to sleep with but not bring home to
mother. It took poetry and cards
and flowers from a gentle man with a small penis, to finally enter my
barricades. And then no holds were
barred, as I launched out into sexploration. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">I did just about
everything. Men, Women,
Threesomes, Orgies, Affairs, One Night Stands, Oral, Anal, Holy Whoring………and I
never really felt a thing. My cunt
may have been opened but my heart wasn’t.
Everything was experienced through my head. It was like my body was numb, and I lived it through my
thoughts. I learnt how to fake
orgasms and make like a porn star.
And even more, I learnt how to become an extremely fine lover, so as my
lovers were so gone on bliss, that they wouldn’t notice my absence. Some moments really hit through the
gaffa tape wrapped round my body, like the first time I was fisted, and some
moments of pure love. I treasured
them close. But some moments were
totally awful, and I experienced rape (by women no less), to heap on top of
having body memories of childhood abuse.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">Alongside sex, I
was unpeeling the wraps of my childhood and cultural clutches, and trying to
work out who the hell I really was beyond what I’d been moulded to. I spent many years undoing things. My patterns and conditioning. My need to keep busy. I tensed myself into relaxing. I made myself sit and do nothing. I tried to listen to my instinct buried
deep beneath entrenched dogma. I
learnt from everything and everyone around me. I found treasures in the dark.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">And I started to
really learn about myself. About
my own way of doing things. About
my heart. More to the point, I
started to really like who I was.
Like how my survival instincts had led me, even when I found it hard to
hear them. Like the stories that
made me who I was.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">Then I bumped
into my soul mate. Sitting on a
barstool, with his blue blue eyes that I fell into, and couldn’t get out
of. We had a long one night fling,
and I thought it was all she wrote, but on getting home he haunted me. Quite a worldy wise sexual professional
at that point, he’d been the first to treat me with such utmost respect,
chivalry, and acceptance. I wrote
a book inspired by the experience, and then on meeting up again, all the things
I’d written had come to pass. We
have an amazing meeting story, but what’s even more important to my point right
now, is that our hearts met as well as our sex, and after all of those journeys
that I’ve told you about, I went from being a sexually rapacious ice queen, to
feeling sex and love and bliss and warmth through my whole soul and body. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">We fuck like a
god and goddess taking a break from their day jobs and moonlighting as porn
stars. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">But it wasn’t an
easy journey. It wasn’t all hearts
and roses and knights on stallions, and once we met it wasn’t happy ever
after. We both had shitty
childhoods we were recovering from, massive trust issues, and dark paths that
we’d travelled to get to each other.
We put each other through the wringer, and tested each other over and
over, and all the time I thought I’d ‘lowered’ myself to his vibration and was
healing him, I was actually letting him heal me equally. He took 5 years to believe that I
really loved him and was going to stay.
I reckon I took about the same.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">We’re noisy and
we argue, and we make love and war equally passionately, and most important to
both of us……….we have absolutely no secrets from each other. We tell each other the absolute
truth. After childhoods full of
hypocrisy, duplicity, and lies, we’re totally allergic to all of it. We got into so much trouble before we
found each other with the world out there, cause we refused to lie. To ourselves or anyone else. No matter how uncomfortable that may
have made life around us. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">Right in the
beginning, in our torrid and explosive implosion into each other, a woman from
my childhood religion came to visit, who’d known me since I was a baby. And she spent the day with us hearing
stories and mutually falling in love.
And right near the end she said, “When you come across those seemingly
unsurpassable brick walls in your relationship, the ones that other people say
you should just give up on……don’t.
Find some way to get under it, or over it, or around it, or knock it
down, cause I guarantee you, that when you get over the other side, the love
and trust and gifts that it will bring will be worth it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">And she was
right.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">Even though
we’ve waited till it was extremely unpopular till we did it, me and my man have
been together for over 14 years now, and apart from a few little tests at the
beginning, have been completely, lustfully, and explicitly monogamous. The crystalline and multifaceted
glittering creation that we’ve crafted between us and around us, is built from
all our tests and trials in the beginning, and our coming togethers, and our
fights, and our sexuality, and our births, and the amazing sexual fests that
created our babies, and our bodies and the way they smell and look and age, and
our complete and total honesty with ourselves and each other, and our growing
mutual and self love………and our sex life all these years and babies down the
track is simply epic. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">After starting
my sexual journey as a maiden novice, clamped and numbed shut, I’ve matured
through the mother and sexual phase into a goddess alongside my god. I thought our sexual climate was pretty
rare and fine before we got to this volcanic region of the Northern Rivers, but
since coming here, we birthed our seventh baby together that was as my midwife
described, ‘The epitome of the sexual birthing divine feminine’, and birthed an
ectopic pregnancy together a year and a half later that was equally powerful,
and find ourselves in a golden age that just keeps getting better. I have multiple orgasms and women’s
ejaculations and we regularly say to each other ‘wow…..never did that
before!’. Despite realistic
expectations, our sex life keeps getting better. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;">Your sexual
journey as a woman, is a journey, not a destination. And you can always change it. Take it from me.
I know.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-45290815438271966452014-11-05T10:42:00.001+10:002019-06-24T17:19:23.613+10:00About Bonding......again....<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">I’ve lived in a house on the edge of an
escarpment in the Blue Mountains, where the wind would rush up from the valley,
and push the door closed, and whip through your skin to tickle your bones. Where mist would sit like a waveless
ocean in the deep blue valleys, and the cliffs would shine in the sun.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">In an old terrace house, with a huge and
elegant bedroom, that had a quaint fireplace and balcony, overlooking a busy
country street in Bathurst.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">In a caravan, on the bend of a river through
an Arab horse stud, where I spent all my days looking after horses and riding.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">In a student house in Strassbourg with
Canadian art students, creating exhibitions in deserted warehouses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">Above a pub in Islington.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">In the bottom storey of a massive sandstone
manor called Wadi Shaifa, looking over another valley in the Blue Mountains,
with massive windows where the moon shone in, and an enchanting park down
through the front yard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">In a share house in Lane Cove, with bright
lights and a beautifully glittering harbour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">In a witches cottage in Katoomba, set behind
the street, where magic seemed to shimmer on the walls, and I painted it cream
and crimson as soon as I moved in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">In a two storey cottage on Cliff Drive near
the Three Sisters, with an overgrown garden that my girlfriend and I reverently
uncovered like archaeologists, in a cute and artfully painted home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">In a stunning three storey tower with floor
to ceiling windows, and carved bookshelves, looking out on another valley in
the mountains. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">In a bluestone mansion, set into a disused
sandstone quarry in Stirling, with a spa bath, and paved verandahs, and luxury
living.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">In a three story rammed earth squat, with
wooden balconies, in a country town in Adelaide.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">In a disused Uniting Church Camp, where we
hung out in a massive Mess Hall with a huge stone fireplace, and I had one of
the oldest churches in Adelaide, as my first ever studio.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">In a quirky, greek style, 4 brick thick home
in the Adelaide Hills, on beautiful land, with massive gum trees, and a sacred
spot where three creeks met. We
lived in a meditation studio, and witnessed epic night skies, and one night we
even saw a Moonbow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">On a community in the Adelaide Hills in a
true hippy home, where all the houses were joined by the roof to stay on one
title. Living on redgum
regeneration land on the Meadows creek, and right next door to pristine
indigenous bush, and stately pine forests.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">In a bizarre little self organized shared
household in Mt Barker Springs, where we lived in an unlined shed that I hung
with material. With an indoor/outdoor fire pit, that we sat around a lot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">In a little shack on the side of Mount Donna
Buang in Victoria, in breathtaking mountain ash forests.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">We’ve slept in a river bed outside Alice
Springs, where you can see the Emu in the sky most perfectly. Red earth and wide skies, and the
brilliant aliveness of the desert.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">And in and around all of these homes, our
deep and abiding hearts home, was our ex army Toyota Commuter van, that I
crocheted the seat covers of, and made cargo nets and beds in, and crafted hand
made swags for. In which we drove
everywhere, could be ourselves and unobserved more than anywhere else, and had
a mobile environment that we took with us everywhere we went, as a permanent
sanctuary. Where we could wake up
at any place in the country, and have a cuddle before a strong cup of
coffee. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">We’ve lived in two beautiful houses, on the
picturesque and diverse community of Billen Cliffs, in Northern NSW. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">And I’ve never loved a home and parcel of
land as much as I love it here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">Living here has fit a final piece to a
puzzle that I’ve been working on, researching, and personally experimenting
with for decades. That puzzle
being the full capacity and breadth and wealth of bonding in it’s extreme. And through beginning to know the ocean
of it…….maybe more to the point learning in the extreme what bonding ISN’T,
along the way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">And to be brutally honest, from my
perspective as a bonded lover, mother, crafter, and now home dweller and animal
herd……..virtually every facet of western civilization, is more of a lesson on
how to unbond, disunite, disconnect, and separate, than any kind of bonding and
love leading to community, self organization and empowerment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">I’ve written so much about bonding over the
years, from many perspectives, it’s been an almost obsession in my life and
blog. All the lessons I’ve learnt from unparalleled honesty
and trust, in an intimate and loving releationship, and from my larger amount
of birthing experiences than the average bear, have led to very similar whole
body learnings about love and bonding.
Those lessons now extend into home, land, and animals – all universes on
their own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">Before I started my interior journey through
loving Currawong and birthing babies, I thought of bonding as some vague cliché
thrown around in ways like ‘male bonding’ and ‘female bonding,’ to do with sports
or business. The most I really
heard about it was in nature documentaries and zoo stories around bonding, and
farming stories of bonding to other species. If this kind of inter species bonding and it's potential power interests you, watch
this documentary about <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dLSkuTNiU9E">Animal Odd Couples</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">But through living all my different
experiences, I’ve learnt how integral bonding really is, in our mammalian
journeys, and through our ancestral and evolved consciousnesses. I believe, through truly living my life
and following my own path, I’ve stumbled onto enlightenment through all the
stuff that most people like to transcend.
I’ve deeply bonded with my mate, with my children, with my home, with
the land around me, and with the animals we share the land with, both
domesticated and wild. I’ve bonded
with the world around me, through my focus and unbinding into the bonding of
birth, sex and death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">And this is the kind of bonding, love,
community and connection that my ancestors went to war for. Defended their lands with their lives
for. And had many stories and
different ways to access the divinity within them, and through them, their land
and connections. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">Living as we are presently, in Western
Culture, or maybe more accurately, as the most educated Roman Slaves on the
planet………..it’s not surprising that virtually all aspects of our society, are
about how to disconnect us from each other, to prevent that bonding and
community from forming. From my
perspective anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">Why is homebirth and homeschooling so
roundly and solidly attacked? Have
you ever wondered about that? Such
a tiny minority of people? Who
affect hardly anyone? With
virtually no damage to the average person? Why is homeschooling illegal in
virtually every western nation except America and Australia? And why is homebirthing so intensely
vilified? Could it be, that these
very events can potentially create greater bonding, and thereby increase the
capacity for community? Why are
the genders set up in war against each other? Why have sensible wholes been split into dualities that are
foolish without each other? God
and Science belong to each other, as a dynamic, cyclic whole. Home birthing and Hospital birthing the
same. Cultural education and Home
education as well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">When you truly look at most indigenous lifestyles
in our ancestries, in which we’ve lived in for the majority of our evolution,
how did we get here? Where we send
our children off there, to bond with strangers that change regularly, and a
bunch of other scared and emotionally undeveloped younglings, to bond with each
other? Behind fences? And our men off there, to work with
other men usually, in work unrelated to their immediate survival, clothing or
food. And our women off elsewhere,
be it to groups or services or jobs or home duties, bonding with others in
other ways. And all of this
bonding and unbonding of families, is all happening elsewhere, other than our
homes. Our homes have largely
become the places we eat and sleep, and nowadays watch screens. All the important stuff we do is
somewhere else. Our jobs, our
passions, our crafts, our trades, all usually happen somewhere other than our
homes. And our relationship to
animals has gone from co-dependant relationships that include the land we all
live on, working out how to help each other birth, survive, thrive and die with
dignity, to a bizarre pet relationship where those without children of their
own, or a lack of community love, can translate that bonding instead to a pet,
who they love and bond with in the same intensity. Or we have a complete disregard for any other sentience at all, in the
form of factory farming.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">We’ve all got a honing instinct as wide as
our hearts towards bonding. And
whether it’s with an animal, partner, child, craft, home, land, trade,
community, sport, religion, or spirituality, we’ll have it in our lives in some
way. And I’m suggesting that our
humanimal potential is to experience bonded love in all those areas. Or at least a lot more than just
one. If that’s our yen and
destiny. A love to family, home,
animals, land, and community, that is bonded and deep, intensely intricate, and
eternally interesting. A love that
is as scary as exhilarating, and deep as potentially shattering. We waft through life with a hundred
breathing hearts, connected to our beings with yarns.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">And that bonding creates the oxytocic
bubbles, that mirror the intense moments of birth, sex, and death, and echo
through our existences. When we
connect and truly bond as families, and communities, and at markets and events,
we generate a vibration that truly attracts others, hungry for that love and
connection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">I’m not sure if there’s a point to all this,
except that this is all deeply on my mind and in my heart at the moment. As we experience awesome bonding with
the home where we live. The
animals we live with. Our journeys
together and how attractive they are to the most interesting people. How through deep bonding to all aspects
around us, we’re experiencing self organization on a profound level. All the aspects we need to continue our
bonded and self organized flow together, and around each other, just come. Without any effort. The right people and events spill
around like pebbles on the creek floor, effortlessly going with the flow or
staying put, depending on what’s needed at the time. Every animal, child, tree or wild animal experience, relates
to other things on many different levels.
Taking the steps towards
each other, working out how to mutually benefit from each others existence,
rather than harm the co-existant whole.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">Each morning we wake, with a whiff of the potential
of just about anything whispering on the wind. Any person or entity could rock up and we most likely
wouldn’t be surprised. As we sink
into our self organized, bonded family, chaotic harmony, a bright buzz whirrs
around us. We’ve got more visitors
coming to swing through our realities, than we ever have in our entire
relationship. One tent comes down,
and another one goes up! Things
are learnt effortlessly, as valuable mentor relationships spring up all around,
our vibrant and authentic children.
So much is packed into our days, that we barely get time to recognize it,
before another wild event comes galloping down the road. So much learning is fast tracked and
hacked into, by so many people and lessons on our doorstep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">We’re learning about each other, and who we
really are, and other people, and how they live, and animals, and what they
need to thrive, and eat, and how it’s best to be eaten, and personalities, and
how deep they root, and the re-spelling of the spells that our great western
culture has spelled on our souls. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">And coming across so many other people
wanting to travel the same authentic paths. Into themselves, each other, their homes and land, and other
animals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">We live in one of the most diverse
communities I’ve ever lived, where the main tenet is respect for every living
thing, except for violence or cruelty, which is dealt with in person and directly. There are so many people with so many
philosophies trying so many different ways to live. So many directives, inspirations, and dreams being striven
for. Nobody really knows how many
communities there are in the hills of the Rainbow Region, but there are
hundreds, and they’re all different.
I’ve heard tell of communities focused around medieval sword fighting
and knightliness, around unschooling, christianity, womens land, fairy land for men, permaculture, survival
anarchy, the desire to share no community at all, solar power, low income
earners, activists, and more exotic possibilites of this sort than you could
possibly imagine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">And all these people shop in Nimbin and
Lismore, and get together at markets and events, and swap stories and experiences,
and I know that it’s a world that could be endlessly explored, and never fully
known. And the experiment is a
huge success from everything I’ve seen.
People have learnt compassion and acceptance from their lived
experiences. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">It’s fast tracked our family community
experience, as a mirror showing it’s face to a world full of mirrors. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">I think the point of all of this is to ask
you to jump in. Wherever you find
it, however it moves you, find yourself a community to bond with, with your
family if you have one, or if not find a family that needs you. And dive in! Experiment!
Realise that the hurts and pains are the equal and opposite on the way
to learning how to navigate the stormy waters, leading to the gentle bay of
bonded community. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">It’s the only way we’re gonna save ourselves
and our planet. To bond with it
and our families and our homes and our lives and care for each other. Because we’ve recognized our dependance
on each other and everything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua"; font-size: large;">Or something like that anyway </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "wingdings";">:)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-20212860047303674362014-10-09T21:00:00.000+10:002019-06-24T17:20:00.140+10:00Older Blog<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So 2007 was the year I really started blogging. And back then, blogs existed in a parallel universe on the internet, and you couldn't really access them from the main part of the net. They didn't turn up in Google searches, and they were just starting out. I connected briefly with this amazing African American hooking artist with irrepressible enthusiasm called <a href="http://www.ginarenay.com/default.html">Gina Renay</a>, and got a bit of interest along the way, and then couldn't get back into it for some reason, and started the blog I write today.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But just in case you're curious, and want to see what an earlier blog of mine would look like, here it is. It used to be called</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://spunout-hellena.blogspot.com.au/2007/04/spunouts-attempt-to-crochet-world.html">Spunout</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Enjoy :)</span></div>
Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-8978778314736947522014-09-25T18:47:00.000+10:002019-06-24T17:26:10.549+10:00Post Phyber Philosophy Book Launch<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And what a perfectly marvellous day for a ebook launch it was. Even though I charged Currawong and Lilly with taking photos........as I suspected, Currawong was too busy chasing round 4 little boys, and Lilly was just too busy having fun. So most of the photos were taken by me, at the one point in the day when I had a minute to take them.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Over the years I've really come to terms with my particular form of fame, and it's not big and flashy by any extent of any imagination, but it's quirky, unique, and full of quality instead of quantity. I get deep and meaningful connections with people more than a broad fan base, and lots of extraordinary yarns. So over the whole weekend there was a steady stream of gorgeous people sitting with me in my space, telling me stories or letting me tell some, and mentioning at some point how colourful and beautiful my stall was. An audience makes me purrrr.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And being as my prime directive is to 'make it' in my own way, on my own terms, I reckon an ebook launch at Sustainability Alley at the Nimbin Show, with a self published ebook printed out on recycled paper, and in a loose leaf folder as a display, and a branch full of little pouches/finger puppets/necklaces with usb sticks in them, with two copies of Post Phyber Philosophy - one a pretty version and one a printable one.........is about as good as it gets! For me anyway. This was such a close shave, to get it all together in time for Nimbin Show, that I only printed out a full copy of PPP the night before, and finished taking photos for it early friday morning. I did the final check as I printed it out, and Currawong saved all the info to the usb sticks we'd bought, and made sure they all worked.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And then we were up at sparrows fart as we usually are, and surprised ourselves with how easily we organised everything, and the kids, and the animals...... Dreamer who was about to have kittens any day, was being cute in the morning, as she snuck in the rabbits cage to hang out with Fleur and her babies. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">So when we go anywhere for a while, we usually have to take half the house with us. Food, water, swags, blankets, pillows, toys, changes of clothes, favourite silkies, prams, shade, rugs, and then all my other market stuff as well. But I love the little autonomous zone that we create wherever we are, and there's something quite special about how at the end of the day, we pack it all up and away and you'd never know that we were there. Currawong is at the back right of the stall in this photo, wearing his Tinkerbell t-shirt, and his gorgeous floral pants made for him at the Maccy Market. And underneath my stall you can see the swag that I made for travelling, that I unroll under the table so the boys have somewhere to sleep and hide in the shade. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And here's the branch I whittled and oiled to use for my display, resplendent in my little pouches full of memory sticks and the Pentapusses :) With skeins behind them. That I actually sold two of! Shock horror. And don't tell all the people who've been asking to buy them, and told that they were display only. Like I tell everyone who asks, if you want a skein out of me you've got to work for it, and twist my arm a bit. Cause it's my palette! With which to create! But I'm always a bit happy to sell one to someone who really appreciates it, or has a passionate idea that they want to create with it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And in this photo above, I noticed the mirror, and how I inadvertently took a photo of myself taking a photo. So of course I had to play with that a little bit....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So does this qualify as a 'selfie'? Cause if it does, then it's my first :) I love this photo. And then a bit later, when my hair had fallen out of its bun, I tried just one more.... And in this photo is the loose leaf folder displaying my ebook. The page you can see in this one, is a photo description page. I was showing PPP to a mate just a week before the launch, and as I was telling her a brief yarn of all the photos, she said I should write descriptions in, so people knew what stuff was. So I did! Thanks Yollana :) It's almost an ebook in an of itself :) And the descriptions of photos built the ebook up to 85 grand pages.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm just so thrilled that I've finally done it! I've been writing this ebook for over 10 years now, and it's full of photos and stories that I've been telling people for years, and there's something so alchemical and magical about actually putting it all down in transcript with visual expressions of us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And here's a photo of an unknown man in my mirror, that I didn't know I'd captured till I looked at the photos later. And a rather gorgeous pic of my Moth Wing Cape, for which there's a pattern in my ebook. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And here's the Moth Wing Cape from the other side, showing off the spiderwebs rather well, looking into my stall, and giving a bit of an idea of the colourful little island I was on for the weekend.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I brought the needle felted and crocheted family along for this one too. As everything was really one big display to launch an ebook, I thought I should bring the gang - especially Ursula, as she's in a few of the photos in my ebook.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And here's PROOF that it was an ebook launch. EVERYBODY knows that you can't have a book launch without goon and cheese on crackers. Jatz preferably. And Nimbin cheese hopefully. And I had to explain to a few people what goon was. As in, goon is cask wine of the cheap and nasty sort, and for this special occasion I bought a cask of Sovereign Point, soft and fruity red :) And every cup and jam jar left in the house. Being as they are at a premium with so many cheeky little hands that like to fling cups and glasses round. I washed them and brought them along as a last minute decision on sunday morning, cause there was just no way that I was going to be able to justify to anyone bringing plastic cups. Being as I was plonked on Sustainable Alley and all. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also bought two punnets of strawberries on friday. Because I knew that the chances of actually keeping them in the fridge for sunday were very slim, but thought that the large number of them may assure some success. On sunday morning while I was washing every cup and jam jar in the house, Currawong nicely managed to save one of the last punnets from the jaws of rampaging boys, and I discovered another one that had been saved earlier, and was high on a shelf. So I managed to bring TWO WHOLE punnets to the launch! Though they didn't make it to the photos :) And on the table to the left is the Nonapuss! A hat/puppet with nine tentacles with bells on. That doubles up as a magpie scarer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And here's me enjoying my rather large jam jar of soft fruity red, or as I like to call it......goon. With Zarra asleep underneath the table no less. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But what ISN'T in the photos......is all the other people at the launch :) And like I said in the beginning, there weren't heaps, but the ones that came were very special people to me, and made it huge just by being there. There was a lot of love and thoughts expressed to me during the weekend, that made me feel truly honoured, by who spared a thought for me and my little ebook :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had not one but TWO first buyers. One of intention, and one of reality. See, I was rushing along the street of Nimbin one day, and got reminded about how life's not meant to be a rush, so I sat for a hug and a chat, and ended up burbling bout what I was doing, and got earnestly asked if I could sell him my first ebook in a pouch. Now if I'd been ready earlier than the night before, then I would have been able to work this out just so, but it wasn't quite ready, so my friend made an effort to come to Nimbin Show instead. BUT. As I was setting up, a charming man with his partner and mother in law came by to chat, and have a look, and a yarn or two, and he was the first to actually see the printed out ebook, and he loved it, and also the first in person to buy a little pouch. And I liked him so much, and appreciated the appreciation and time that we all had, that I even sold him a skein of hand spun, and as he was just starting and wanted to crochet, I even balled it up for him, so he wouldn't get it tangled. So two first customers and both of them MEN!!! I love it :) And there was also an elegant and gentle couple that showed up on both days to give moral support and lively conversation. Been rather thrilled that quite a few gorgeous men have been walking into my life lately..... </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And then when we got home.......I reckon Dreamer waited all of 5 minutes till she jumped in with the baby rabbits and Fleur again. We thought it was cute, but when it was time to go to bed, Fleur was getting a bit miffed to have Dreamer in her den, so we went to move her........and discovered a kitten underneath her. There were some beautiful oxytocic moments between her and her kittens and the baby bunnies, but then we had to rehouse the kits so that Dreamer could finish birthing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And she birthed 4 beautiful little kittens! All of them tabbies. One a black tabby, one a grey, and two black and brown. I love tabbies :) We're all a bit thrilled that Dreamer and the babies are all okay, and she did a marvellous job for a first time mamma :) And the next day, when all the baby bunnies were out again, one of them snuck in for a cuddle. Gotta love love.......</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And like a beautiful friend said, 'how appropriate to have two kinds of birth in one day!'</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So. A big day was had all round. And my eBook, Post Phyber Philosophy, is finally ready for sale. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you'd like to purchase a pdf of my eBook, Post Phyber Philosophy, you can do so on my Etsy site </span><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i> </i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><i><a href="https://www.etsy.com/au/listing/204786030/post-phyber-philosophy-conscious?">here</a>.</i></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope you like it :)</span></div>
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-14459425807015658392014-09-17T10:04:00.000+10:002014-09-26T10:55:49.252+10:00Post Phyber Philosophy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-pccqP2iUgCQOLki283bY3M_W4LjBDZyxzZP6CV9gGZYhIome5cEjsJm8S9NmQNbePmNl7w6spIiY6vCPqkAE8EFbatysgaQaefkIGIsYRpzrJaDsAlnEZG8O-zsyqQMlEsbCoBosnRU/s1600/Post+Phyber+Philosophy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-pccqP2iUgCQOLki283bY3M_W4LjBDZyxzZP6CV9gGZYhIome5cEjsJm8S9NmQNbePmNl7w6spIiY6vCPqkAE8EFbatysgaQaefkIGIsYRpzrJaDsAlnEZG8O-zsyqQMlEsbCoBosnRU/s1600/Post+Phyber+Philosophy.png" height="320" width="247" /></a></div>
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Okay. So life and extremities have been intense lately, as it always is, and I've got to confess that the mindworm of haters, has made it hard for my desire to yearn towards blogging of late. And I had a big experience that I'd like to express on here, but am a bit loathe to all at the same time. So I'm dragging my heels. And the result is that I haven't even told you that I've very nearly finished writing the book that I've been writing and living for the last 13 years. Post Phyber Philosophy. </div>
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I was asked to launch it as an Ebook at Sustainability Alley at the Nimbin Show this coming saturday and sunday, so I am. I've been working on it for months, but kinda stalled at the last minute, a bit of fear of success taking me for a spin for a while. But with a deadline I'm grooving it, and it's all coming together beautifully. </div>
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I've been a bit stunned and elated, that the passionate crafting, that sees me tempting Currawong into watching in depth media for the night, so I can avidly hook with a head torch, to see what happens next, has come back. After a very long hiatus, which I realise now, was the lack of an audience. I don't know about other artists, but for me, an audience is a very important aspect of what I do. To have people that 'get' it, and love what I do, who are curious and interested, and waiting with bated breath to see what I do next, and appreciative, and lovely, and the main reason why I do this, cause I'm a show off. And honest :) </div>
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So knowing that there's a bunch of people I know, who I really like, and who really like me, and that they're going to be at the Nimbin Market at least once a month, and I'm going to be there too, and they're going to ask what I've been up to this month, and cause I'm a show off, I've been slipping making into every spare second, and feeling the fire and spirit of the visiting genie, and turning mistakes into features, and alive with it all!</div>
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Whereas blogging has turned into watching lots of haters traipse silently through my blog, and a few brilliant comments that make up for so much, but the audience isn't very visible or vocal you know? I've been really missing the direct interactions with live people who laugh, and giggle, and share oxytocin and ideas. And I've realised how massive a motivation that audience is for me and how I create.</div>
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I've been mourning the lack of passion in my craft since the light dimmed in me! Which was....ooooo.......the last time that we regularly visited markets and festivals :) Whether it's doing workshops, or festivals, or markets, or book launches or anything like that........having an interactive audience is just awesome. And community forming. And bonding. And oxytocic. And was the missing ingredient to my passion. There just didn't seem to be that much point to it, once I'd made all the things I wanted for our family, unless there were people to appreciate it.</div>
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So I've got this little corner of the kitchen, and I've realised that it's my studio and practical shrine and altar to creativity and passion.</div>
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And it's where you'll find me as often as I can, often first thing in the morning, and late at night. The photo below is from before I spunked it up a bit. Crafting hard with Spiral, making the Slats (sleeves/legwarmers/hats) pattern.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqHTkNRzDm4R1eGgew7sCqbDNtqbrUzXqAKUd7rDaHuxaiKzB2BQAPcN883qun44sYvnQRQky-DUu5TKg_ljfbYujKImEdKr5v-IL161JgkXH733stUOGjr0FMypWfTYT93CIHg-KATLm/s1600/DSC06657.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqHTkNRzDm4R1eGgew7sCqbDNtqbrUzXqAKUd7rDaHuxaiKzB2BQAPcN883qun44sYvnQRQky-DUu5TKg_ljfbYujKImEdKr5v-IL161JgkXH733stUOGjr0FMypWfTYT93CIHg-KATLm/s1600/DSC06657.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Or sitting right next to my studio/altar/bed, and doing the spinning meditation. Just lately there's been a big deal going on, like I alluded to before, and it's been a bit of a nail biting experience for large chunks of it, and there's been a lot of physical endurances, and some worry, and a few other emotions thrown in. And I've found that more and more, rather than turn to many of my other traditionally healthy and unhealthy avoidances, using spinning as a meditation to shut off my babbling brain, and sink into my subconscious and just be for a while.........has been just divine. I can slip into and out of it easily with my spinning wheel. And still be present for all the younglings and animals that we're shepherding. The best thing is, that the beautiful meditation has the result of a ball of yarn. Something practical that is useful! And it's made our house colourful with skeins.....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvX0fyYCkKJB_EnkzDZGoRod5JXll4c1-7-FHog_pm8N5KZ1CYxBjnouS5CPdeoK-S8h_fvWFfJztlyi7SWsce0gHNquWjtCzIcfJbfJEyjhQaqPIw4t9ryJBtuDvpXgXahKaa_JFtfFgH/s1600/DSC07273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvX0fyYCkKJB_EnkzDZGoRod5JXll4c1-7-FHog_pm8N5KZ1CYxBjnouS5CPdeoK-S8h_fvWFfJztlyi7SWsce0gHNquWjtCzIcfJbfJEyjhQaqPIw4t9ryJBtuDvpXgXahKaa_JFtfFgH/s1600/DSC07273.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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So when there's a spare moment, or when I'm really stressed, or when inspiration strikes and the family allows, I sit and create.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9VTzH-6vv4ShkExB4a2PRQqMRwFDvQa1BXVsgWAyk3u9lGBRIuEwS0XstwtFqvlpomhSkCNRxHXAFSIj-rMetxGZT4DsEhDd4B4CMydGkULqJQvvnKtE2nh5RrKytYNRxYNm4CV-vsRtW/s1600/DSC07278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9VTzH-6vv4ShkExB4a2PRQqMRwFDvQa1BXVsgWAyk3u9lGBRIuEwS0XstwtFqvlpomhSkCNRxHXAFSIj-rMetxGZT4DsEhDd4B4CMydGkULqJQvvnKtE2nh5RrKytYNRxYNm4CV-vsRtW/s1600/DSC07278.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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I've been writing patterns for the first time. And quite successfully too. At least I hope. I tried to get some folk to make the Slats pattern on facebook, and lots said they would but no one got back to me, so I'm just gonna have to go with the flow on that one. I think it's fairly straightforward! I've combined photos with explanations, and some of the terms I use are the same used in traditional crochet patterns, so I'm pretty pleased with the result. </div>
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So I'm presently taking photos....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj01WYTn5jMqzF0CCgJuT-SAiDu_dhJToF6uGWbTrExuMu4UqSmcSSBiVyJMHAbKuBvFFFm2JA0AKOs9cTNfQeg38LjFUa80Fqe_J7j3EC-TQgWKX8qq2oWmcesAUkjIEjjzQ2PNBhRtPC1/s1600/DSC07358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj01WYTn5jMqzF0CCgJuT-SAiDu_dhJToF6uGWbTrExuMu4UqSmcSSBiVyJMHAbKuBvFFFm2JA0AKOs9cTNfQeg38LjFUa80Fqe_J7j3EC-TQgWKX8qq2oWmcesAUkjIEjjzQ2PNBhRtPC1/s1600/DSC07358.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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And writing notes......</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXdwQurzQyxhMTOkF_WQ8zLhkWwQ0bEj8WXAMnsb1OjYZe0itrxpm-Rr5JC0-Fz0VI-GlIxPl8rurF5vRrXBPh43T6U_znIQcNyRTP28nqbxfWxbc-IHjr9h-h58GAMJ9oVmly1A8S_GBi/s1600/DSC07355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXdwQurzQyxhMTOkF_WQ8zLhkWwQ0bEj8WXAMnsb1OjYZe0itrxpm-Rr5JC0-Fz0VI-GlIxPl8rurF5vRrXBPh43T6U_znIQcNyRTP28nqbxfWxbc-IHjr9h-h58GAMJ9oVmly1A8S_GBi/s1600/DSC07355.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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And collecting photos of my pallette and tools and methods and materials.....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpWXU2lTKxEeWaVqs8brUIhn-VXqp1LolsgSLf70yjKxYIMBeOKckieM5fq1gPMSsZxy1aYqxMiCuK9Ju5pUPpt9lbVoCzl1D7nFIzvsopnASx7KEYwy3e2KiKEg3MAyRdxiZlj8Aqoh3/s1600/DSC07159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpWXU2lTKxEeWaVqs8brUIhn-VXqp1LolsgSLf70yjKxYIMBeOKckieM5fq1gPMSsZxy1aYqxMiCuK9Ju5pUPpt9lbVoCzl1D7nFIzvsopnASx7KEYwy3e2KiKEg3MAyRdxiZlj8Aqoh3/s1600/DSC07159.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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And coming up with kooky creations inspired by appreciation....</div>
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These are Pentapusses. So named, cause they look like octopuses and definitely sea creatures, but they've only got 5 tentacles, and like I described the process on my Hellena Post Creatrix page on fb.....</div>
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<span style="background-color: #20124d; color: #999999;">"<span style="font-family: Helvetica; text-indent: -36pt;">Made a hat that had dangly
carroty things hanging out the top, and my fingers wanted to go into it, so I
thought I'd try and make a puppet for my hand, (which I've threatened to do for
a long time), and started out making a long bit for a leg, and then I started
an arm - even had a hand with five fingers and everything on it - and played
with it to see if it would work. The hand dangled in a way that wasn't very
attractive, and to work as a movable hand would need some wire, which would
stop it from moving at all, so I pulled the hand apart, and turned it into
another leg, and made them all legs, which turned into tentacles, and then when
I let it sit on my hand to see what my hand wanted to do........it wanted to
move around in a poi like fashion, and swing figure eights, and fly through the
air with the greatest of ease, so that's how it turned out. And then I wanted
it to be an octopus, but I couldn't work out how to get another 3 legs on, and
having them dangle from my palm wouldn't move in the same directed way, so I
decided to leave it at five hanging off fingers and leave it at that. And then
playing with them with Currawong, he said it needed eyes, so then the eyes
came. And then flinging the ends round, I realised that beads or bells would be
lethal, so tassles were the way to not turn it into a weapon."</span></span></div>
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It's also got me and Currawong back into photographing each other and the family, and all the things we do more often. And Currawong gets to slip photos like this in, when taking photos of me hooking first thing in the morning. Funny how a lot of his photos end up as cleavage shots :)</div>
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I've gotta mention too, that this is all going on as we're going about our daily lives, caught here in a photo by a beloved friend, walking the main street of our home town Nimbin. And incidentally, with me wearing the moth wing cape that I've made a pattern for, that's in my PPP Ebook. By the way, being photographed under the Happy High Herbs sign was totally incidental.....and funny :)</div>
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And it's also going on while we've been having one of our busiest times with visitors, and people staying for extended periods, and crafting around them and sometimes onto them, or at least onto their dreads :) There was a veritable rush on dread cosies and hair extensions for a while there!</div>
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But overall.....it's been a tremendously exciting experience as well. I've been totally blissed out that I feel like my computer skills, software, hardware, photos, and the ibooks author template, have all come together in an alchemical magical act. Had a minor freakout, when I thought yesterday that the ibooks author program was going to only let me publish through ibooks, and charge 30% on all my books! Thought for a minute I was going to have to copy and paste the whole bloody lot to a free program. but I got my genius IT expert daughter Jess onto it, and she worked out that it was all fine, as long as I kept my book as a PDF, which I was going to do anyway. I'm absolutely over the moon with how it came together. I'm still finishing it off as we speak, but I'm gonna make it on time for Nimbin Show, even if I have to pull off an all nighter. Might even try and get some wine and nibbles for my little one hour launch :) Here's the first page to show you how it looks.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB47_WI8aKm3LTqYMdkyaPyAtJ_mSyPSSlLRkhKHRn6kOc-Qkhx_AoxEttCQTMlfX3awu-fuG1FxQLhY4s3LZ2MGAMLjHgmPQncUB3nbZueKiYdLdql3LI5kth5cBDzrhVxy8eqoHJ0GL1/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-09-17+at+8.42.27+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB47_WI8aKm3LTqYMdkyaPyAtJ_mSyPSSlLRkhKHRn6kOc-Qkhx_AoxEttCQTMlfX3awu-fuG1FxQLhY4s3LZ2MGAMLjHgmPQncUB3nbZueKiYdLdql3LI5kth5cBDzrhVxy8eqoHJ0GL1/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-09-17+at+8.42.27+AM.png" height="234" width="320" /></a></div>
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And all 70 plus (haven't quite finished it yet!) pages, of photos and stories and patterns, will be available as a PDF file on my Etsy site, and you can also email me (address in my list of places on the right further down). So you can download my book, or buy it in a crocheted necklace pouch, that also doubles up as a finger puppet. $20 for the PDF download, and $25 for the crocheted pouch and usb stick. I"ll keep you posted :)</div>
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P.S. So it's been a little while since my launch now, and I'll post a link to my Etsy page now, just in case you want to go over and check it all out. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><i><a href="https://www.etsy.com/au/listing/204786030/post-phyber-philosophy-conscious?">Enter Etsy here</a></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #151515; font-family: Helvetica;">I</span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-24215075176921386962014-09-04T10:05:00.000+10:002014-09-04T10:05:11.355+10:00The Truth
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<span lang="EN-US">As a natural
born scientist, I’ve been experimenting with my life for many years now. Diagnosing, postulating and theorising, based on the empirical evidence of my life experiences, and the results of the
experiments run to prove or disprove my theories. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">One of my first
experiments was to come up with a theory by which to enter into an uncertain
future at the age of 16, when I’d left home under police escort to live with my
sister in Bathurst, leaving behind my mountain home, family, friends, school,
childhood religion, cat, dog, horse, piano, cello and at moments I thought my
sanity. For two weeks I played
solitaire with a deck of cards wherever I sat, and ate cheese compulsively. Grieving, pining, wondering what it was
all about, letting go. At the end
of those weeks, and in the complete vacuum left by the absence of a religion
which had an answer for everything…………from over the other side of a seemingly
impassable void, inbetween where I stood, turned out from my religion,
schooling and family KNOWING that I was stupid, ugly, knew nothing of
importance and never would, and that everyone and everything was better than
me…………..and the rest of the world that looked to me, as a sweet young thing, to
be so incredibly clever, and beautiful, and witty and wild. Especially surrounded as I was by
passionate and creative university students in a hybrid uni-farming town, in
the days before university fees, when young folks went there while they worked
out what they REALLY wanted to do when they grew up. Plays and performances and spontaneous music and beat poetry
glittered in amongst the wild haircuts and clothes and crazy underground uni
student homes, spread out through a picturesque countryside. I very quickly realized that I’d
been brought up as very white and middle class, and was racist, sexist, and homophobic. So after my cheese
eating solitaire obsessing binge, and after realizing all of that, and letting
it all sink into the void, from across the other side came a very simple…..</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The only truth
is that there is no ultimate truth.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">It worked for
me. And I set about trying to
learn from each and every single thing that happened to me, and from everyone I
came into contact with, especially the people that made me feel uneasy……cause
lets face it, at that point in my life just about everyone made me feel
uneasy. My childhood had been
pretty shit in general really.
Lots of unhappiness and loneliness. Interspersed with moments of pure gold and gorgeous
friendships of course, cause there’s always a seam of bright to the smudge, but
it was about as crap as I’d want to experience anyway. Dad died when I was 7 in the Granville train
crash, blah blah, there’s a lot of
blah there, but that’s not part of this story. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I’ve done lots
of things since then, and learnt from so many many people along the way, who have taught me all sorts of
lessons and given me insights to so many theories, that I took along with me to
experiment with on the way. I’ve
been sitting here trying to come up with a list of theories I’ve experimented
with, but they’re so incredibly numerous, and I realize that what I’m trying to
say is about all those other experiments, but mostly about the big theory I’m
playing with right now, especially as I’ve gone to such trouble to outline the
first very big theory, that I started what I consider my adult life with. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">Because it’s
come full circle. After thinking
that I knew ‘the truth’ as
bequeathed by my childhood religion, I left it and came to ‘the only
truth is that there is no ultimate truth’ and travelled for a long and lovely
time through all sorts of panoramas and cultures and ecosystems and tribes, till
I come to right here and now, where I’m going to tell you that I actually am
onto ‘the truth’ again. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">That’s
right. I’m telling you that I know
The Truth. The Big One. The Great Kahuna. The Almighty And Omnipresent Truth Of
Truthness.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">And if you’re
anything like everyone else that I’ve said this to since I’ve been
experimenting with this concept, you’re rolling your eyes, or getting instantly
distracted, and trying to work out how you can politely tell me that my truth is
very cute, but it’s only MY truth afterall, or shuffling your feet and suddenly
feeling an intense interest in the condition of your fingernails, or the other
routines you go through when you come across another person trying to tell you
what ‘the truth’ is again…….. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">And I’ll even
put in a little preamble, and tell you that this ‘truth’ comes to you via a
million different reflections in a million different mirrors and truths and
versions of truths, and self organizing symmetry, and the fractal nature of
reality, and smidgins of shards of religion and spirituality, and lessons to be
learned from the light and dark paths of enlightenment………</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">Are you curious
yet? Have you stopped the
shuffle? Are you ready for me to
tell you THE TRUTH?</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwVX1jXNqZ7jrUjc46YB5AuLOOSka1e25CCwrL53dB5GItIyv5z-NVjdHLZ5trnDlBO-udGO6bBrxTb_E8bh0nFcHr71G0GMQ7HDEbd7ztH0849AUSfyQjd3u-hdiVvi1y00X7AImfhS9s/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwVX1jXNqZ7jrUjc46YB5AuLOOSka1e25CCwrL53dB5GItIyv5z-NVjdHLZ5trnDlBO-udGO6bBrxTb_E8bh0nFcHr71G0GMQ7HDEbd7ztH0849AUSfyQjd3u-hdiVvi1y00X7AImfhS9s/s1600/images-1.jpeg" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The Great And
Ultimate Truth Is The Synthesis Of Every Single One Of Us Being Who We Are Born
To Be. In being true to our authentic human selves, and living
our own truth, no matter what that may be, we are actually BEING ‘the truth’. Living our part of the great and universal truth that is the
combination and synthesis of us all and everything there is, and all of our
experiences, and beliefs, and truths, and hearts. Because it has to be.
Any great truth, or god, or spirituality, or science or belief has to
hold us all. Has to hold us all
with the unconditional love that we all deserve and respond to. Between all of us is The Truth. And the best way to get there is to
follow the paths and the fractals within us, being led by our desires and loves
and passions. And learning from
our pains and griefs and tortures.
Equally from both. The
Pleasurable and the Painful.
Pleasure and joy are easy to learn from, but it takes the true
dedication of a scientist to elicit lessons, opportunities and gifts from the
Painful experiments of life. Our
Shadows are parts of ourselves that we pull away from ourselves in order to
externalize and attempt to understand. Blame, Fear and Denial keep your Shadow at bay, but
eating it back into yourself brings the seeds of enlightenment at the heart of
your shadow within you. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">Just like Ashoka,
the rough young king that came into power in India, towards the end of the
apparently Dark Ages, that was only Dark in fact around the Roman Catholic
Church, we could really get, that to pick one way or truth or belief or god as
supreme overall, is a bit insulting to others and their truths really, and bound
to cause conflict and warring. And
instead we could all create Universe Cities within our minds, where all the
beliefs and truths and experiences could come together as equals, and have a
great rap about what they’ve got in common, and we take the bits that resonate,
and respect the equal truth of the rest, and go on our merry own paths. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">And whether you
call it God, or Great Spirit, or Buddha, or Self Organisation, or Chaos, or
Creation, or Evolution, or Consciousness, or Allah, or Goddess, or Anarchy, or
The Law Of Every Action Having An Equal And Opposite Reaction……..it seems that
they’re all actually the same thing.
It’s that bit that happens in your life that defies all expectations of
coincidence, serendipity, and random occurrences. That bit that makes you inherently aware that there’s a
great design or purpose to the things that happen around you, and they’re all
leading you to a logical conclusion.
The bit where you realize that you often get what you need, instead of
what you want, and that all the things you get are actually as good or bad as
each other, when you see them as lessons, opportunities, and gifts. The bit where you know in your very
being and soul that you’re not alone, but are surrounded by a host of guardian
angels, or in connection with DNA and the energy that’s constantly moving round
in our universe and remembering where it’s been, or with The Ancestors, or with
entities and deities and devas all around us, or the particles that make up the
4 billions parts of information that our eyes see every second, and that we
only consciously recognize 2 thousands parts of. The bit that helps you to see everything else as kin and
connected, and that what you give out, is what you get back. The bit that encourages you to empathise,
be compassionate, and do to other people what you’d like done to yourself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">The Great And
Ultimate Truth Is All Of It. All
our lessons and learnings and pains and joys and wars and peace and truths and
denials and fears and trust and realizations and knowings and feelings and
doings. The synthesis of all of
our trials and inner knowledge and traumas and love. The Truth within us, is the same as The Truth without
us. And we are all an integral
part of it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">Take it for a
test run at least, and then let me know what you think of The Truth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-24106619166554547612014-08-11T16:01:00.000+10:002014-08-11T16:01:53.232+10:00Humanimal Evolution And Liberation Through Harmony....or the HEALTH Manifesto
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<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Since we
moved away from our earliest families and set out to explore the earth as it
was going through its constant evolution, we’ve found a myriad of ways to be
different to each other, in our dress, skin and insides. Boundaries and territories and
theologies have carved battle and the knitting together of close hierarchical
groups to survive onto our souls.
We mirror the other mammals in how we’ve reacted to limited resources
and land – we’ve formed bullying hierarchies that advance territory, and see
‘the other’ as dehumanised, thereby justifying our warfare. We’ve also managed to become hoarders
to defy any other hoarding animal – taking it to outrageous extremes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Since we
first made that deal with the grass called wheat that we used as a tool to
settle, (or perhaps, the wheat that used us for colonisation) we’ve been
working out how to over-ride our instincts towards peaceful living, to create
warriors and distinctions so we could keep acquiring the land we needed to
perform agriculture. The Spartans
threw their babies to the ground and buried placentas on battlefiels, the
Mayans separated their boys early from their families, and we western humans in
particular, have come up with multitudinous forms of bonding interruption and
layers of seperation to create warriors, to keep advancing our civilized bulldozing
of the world. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">But in
Humanimals early evolution, we traded our easy births and more independent
babies for walking and a bigger brain to think with. And we believe the time has come for Humanimals to use those
brains we traded up for, and consciously evolve beyond the need for warfare,
hoarding, hierarchies and bullying tactics. Because we stand on the brink of mass extinctions that
threaten not only us but every other animal, landscape and seascape on the
planet. It’s time for us to get together on this, be the change we
want to see in the world, and take personal responsibility for the time we occupy
on this planet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
earth herself has shown that no matter what she endures…….she will go on. And we wish to go on in HEALTH with her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We
believe that it is time for us to emerge from our waking sleep, as slaves in a
civilised society, that treats us like children, and informs us that we
wouldn’t learn without being forced, and we wouldn’t be ‘good’ without limiting
rules, and we wouldn’t co-operate unless we were made to. Our societal structures have revolved
around guilt and fear, punishment and revenge, judgement, rules and
hierarchies. While indigenous
societies all over the world have quietly shown, from the time we started
forming tribes, how Humanimals can coexist peacefully with the other animals
and ecosystems through experiencing a connection with everything, and accepting
everything as an integral part of the Healthy Whole. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">In a
great and delicious irony, in all our learning and civilising, we’ve searched
and searched for truths until we’ve found them, in the lap of Science and Quantum
Physics, and on the shoulders of Chaos, that we’ve had the universe contained
within us allways, all the answers we’d ever need are locked in our DNA, and
what the indigenous nations were saying all along about everything being
connected was true. We live in a
conscious universe, and it’s safe
to trust that consciousness, and relinquish our grasp of control, to
start exploring what an interconnected universe is really all about. Everything that we’ve done to the world
‘out there’, we’ve actually done to ourselves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">And no
matter what other distinctions you may be able to lay upon the collective Humanimal
soul, we are all reflected by Mother, Father and Child, as the realities of our
species, and we are all Born, we Live and have Sex, and Die, just like all the
other species. These are the
things that every Humanimal either does or has the potential to do within
them. The realities of our
existence that connect us no matter what other categories we can create.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I think
any reasonable Humanimal would be hard pressed to find many examples of our
societies working healthily. Threats,
bullying, standardised birthing and education, governments, corporations,
dogmatic religion, wage slaving, hierarchies and punishment haven’t really
worked have they. To try and trace
back and untangle the threads that we’ve woven as dominators of the planet is
hard work and obtuse, and reinvigorates old arguments. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Instead,
we identify the areas of Birthing, Living, Travelling, Sex, Water, Food, Home
and Death to be our sovereign Humanimal birthrights, and sacred occupations in
which the search for betterment and understanding for all of us and the rest of
our planet, is to be encouraged and supported in the striving of our species
evolution. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">It’s
time to create a Conscious way forward into a HEALTHy future for
everything……. To create the future
we’re wishing for and step into it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Marker Felt"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Humanimal
Evolution And Liberation Through Harmony </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Marker Felt"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> HEALTH Manifesto<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Marker Felt"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Marker Felt"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">FIRST - </span></b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We
claim the right to embrace our Human experience and liberate our DNA connected,
sovereign, and autonomous human natures, and to consciously evolve, as our
ancestors have done for millions of years. And we embrace our religion as the living of our lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">SECOND - </span></b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We’ve
learnt and felt that the entire universe is a conscious ocean of connection,
and the drop goes into the ocean, but the ocean also goes into the drop. Every single Humanimal is born with a
purpose and destiny, and the most sacred profession we can engage in is to truly
know and be ourselves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">THIRD - </span></b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We
acknowledge that there are infinite ways to express divinity, spirituality,
God, creativity, and faith, and paths that have formed around the Humanimal
instincts of searching out Love, Respect, Peace and Freedom. And we believe that when you reduce all
the worlds religions and spiritualities down to their synthesis, they are all
striving to be the best they can be, to do no harm, and to work towards love
and compassion. So we claim the
right to express our personal beliefs, spiritualities, truths, and philosophies
in our individual ways, and have them accepted and supported as equally valid
as any other. From journeying with organised religion to worshipping a
guitar…….everything is relative and a matter of perspective, and valuable to
the HEALTHy whole. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">FOURTH - </span></b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We
insist on taking personal responsibility for how we birth, live, learn, engage
in consensual sex, travel, and die, and own these sacred traditions as an
essential part of searching out our deep Humanimal natures and identities,
engaging in all these traditions that are as old as our Humanimal bodies. All of these areas have been shrouded
in dogma, control, hierarchies, and rules for longer than we care to remember,
and we believe it’s time for us to search through them with a fresh
perspective. To find ways of
performing them that reflect our stage of conscious evolution. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">FIFTH - </span></b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">To
all the sacred trinities that have been revered throughout our spiritual
evolution, we add two more. The
first being – <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">That of Mother, Father, Child, as a representation of
who we all come from, the cycle we can all experience, and the possibilities of
who we can be. While we have
known the age of the Mother, and that of the Father, we believe that this is
the age of the Child. Because they
are the ones who will remind us of who we have always been.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">And…..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">That of Birth, Sex and Death, as the inextricably
linked trinity that is the reflection of all the great cycles within and
without us, from whence we all come and to where we all go. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">SIXTH - </span></b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We
share solidarity with all the indigenous people of the earth, the scientists and techno wizards, the
philosophers and (R)evolutionary thinkers, and the eco-warriors and fringedwellers,
who have all carved evolutionary thinking and hacked out free realities to
express the Humanimal potentials in living respectfully and sustainably. And we declare that compassionate
searching into our indigenous and ancestral roots, alongside our search for how
to create HEALTHy alternatives, are important elements of forming identity and
community. Learning our languages,
songs, traditional dress, stories, heritage, ancient lores and histories. At the same time as developing new
ones, that explore ways of bringing spiritual and religious significance to
everything we do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">SEVENTH - </span></b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Whilst
living as perpetual children in a master slave society, we’ve actually
oppressed our own children, and tried to force them to become like us. They have often been the unspoken but
understood possessions, slaves, powerless victims and lab rats of our cultural
fads. We believe that rather than
teach them to be like us, we could instead learn from them, and let them remind
us of the awe, curiosity, fascination, honesty, unconditional love and
boundless enthusiasm with which we’re born into life, when born into love. To see ourselves and magic in the simple
and magnificent miracles of our personal worlds and universe. And liberate the children within and
without us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">EIGHTH - </span></b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We
claim our Humanimal birthright as being reflections of a chaotically harmonious
universe, to honour the inherent consciousness of ecosystems and balance, and
form our communities, self and community governance and regulation, collective
endeavours, monetary systems, trade
and commerce, on the model of a wheel or circle. Where every
person/idea/trade/spoke of the wheel is equally needed, appreciated, valid and
essential to the whole. And
everybody feels empowered and appreciated in their role of collective self
governance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">NINTH - </span></b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We
encourage every single Humanimal to find the occupation, trade, or life path
that makes them sing, and then to set sail on a never ending quest to find
different and unique ways of doing…….everything. We honour the long lineage of self taught Masters and
Mistresses of their fields who created whole new vistas to explore from
pursuing their passions. And we
celebrate the magnificence and brilliance of the human spirit, that has
continued to create beauty, art, evolving thought, innovation, love, compassion
and forgiveness, despite the cages and dark places that we’ve visited through
oppressive and narrow paradigms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">TENTH - </span></b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We
spread like a virus the love of learning, and encourage Humanimals to explore
concepts like Pantheism, Animism, Humanism, The Gaia Theory, Chaos Theory,
Anarchy, Gifting Economies, Community Supported Agriculture, The Farmers Market
Movement, the Zapatistas, Evolution, Natural History, Ethnopaediatrics,
Biomimicry, Alternative Technology, Birthing practices, Bonding, The Peace
Movement, Indigenous spiritualities, a Wide and Broad World History, the
Community Movement, Sexual histories, Attachment Parenting, historical
dwellings, Nomadic cultures and the modern Protest movement, and all the
different ways we’ve survived……
And take it all in, and sit with it, and then make up their own minds
based on comparison and their personal life experience. Disregard the bits that don’t work for
them, and take the bits that do, and create their own webwork of understanding,
and then help to continue the evolution of thought. Whilst having a greater appreciation of all the diverse ways
of understanding and enlightenment we can take.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">ELEVENTH - </span></b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We
claim our religious birthright, to form families, tribes and communities, as we
feel drawn. To create homes that
reflect our needs, survival, and unique natures. To travel freely in safe vehicles with homes inside them,
and to meet, share, trade, work, gift, do ceremony, perform, celebrate and hang
out together. To educate ourselves
according to our desires and interests and with the support of mentors. To birth in the way that we and our
babies deserve, and to engage in activities that aid in our survival,
enlightenment, and evolution. To
express our Humanimal love and lust with consensual partners, and explore our
natures, smells, needs, rituals, preferred environments and foods. To evolve our own death ceremonies and
burials. To experience connection
with our planet, fellow earth dwellers, food, water, home, births, sexuality,
rituals, learning and death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">TWELFTH - </span></b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We
acknowledge suffering, grief, pain, and the underworlds of humanity as well, as
parts of the whole, and that these undergrounds give us great lessons,
insights, empathy, compassion, balance, forgiveness, and motivation to
evolve. We believe that every humanimal
has the potential for everything within them, as a reflection of the macro in
the micro, but that in owning our shadows, and sewing them back onto ourselves
like Wendy did with Peter Pan, we can reclaim them from the civilised world
gone crazy with shadow power, and eat them back into ourselves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">THIRTEENTH - </span></b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We dedicate ourselves to exploring new ways to make
our homes, towns, farms and cities, Humanimal, Ecosystem, and Earth friendly. Sustainable and HEALTHy. To repairing
the damage that our fathers and mothers have wrought. To keep endeavouring to know ourselves, but to also keep
exploring our physical environment, and in conjunction with soaring into space,
also delve the depths of our oceans and inner planet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">FOURTEENTH - </span></b><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We propose the creation of Humanimal Wildlife Sanctuaries,
where Humanimals can live free of constriction and contract and obligation, to
explore their Humanimal natures and release themselves back into the wild should
they so choose. With the freedom
to help heal and nurture the wild, and assist it to renew itself from the ravages
of monocultural agriculture. In
these sanctuaries we will also explore our ancestry and genetic lineages, as a
means towards discovering and creating identities that fit us collectively and
individually. They could also be
places for natural learning centres along the lines of Uniterra, and birthing
centres removed from the sick and dying, schedules and routines, and dying
centres where age is celebrated, learned from, and helped with peaceful and
dignified deaths. Community
banks, insurance funds, alternate monetary systems, libraries, health centres,
and centres of trade could also be created. And we can also work out better ways to deal with those that
harm others, than to torture them and lock them away. All managed by our wheels of council. Dealing with these matters as
empathetic fellow humanimals, instead of harsh and vengeful judges, and dealing
with our matters communally and locally, rather than subjugate everybody to the
guilty until proven innocent clause, implemented by strangers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">FIFTEENTH
– We claim our birthright, and will strive to reinvigorate Humanimals most
ancient form of community, the town market. Where we
can form local networks, food and seed banks, connections of care, share ideas,
and grow our local communities, food, water sources, clothing, adornment,
rituals, festivals, authentic relationships,learnings, tools and skills.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">SIXTEENTH
– We dedicate ourselves to a process of continual conscious evolution, and
state that even our beginning searchings into the formation of our communities,
shall always be viewed as historical documents and incidences, and will never
become dogma or worship. We will retain an adapting, changing, evolving record
and representation of our search into our selves and our planet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We are
the result of thousands of generations of love, and our ancestors wish to
welcome us back into their arms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-45010198142995629012014-07-16T21:56:00.001+10:002021-07-09T18:08:42.300+10:00An Ode To Body Hair And The Great Unwashed<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Now if you've studied history, and the tales of the conquerors and colonialists, there are two parts to colonising a culture and territory. It's only the first part where there's a big war and killing with death machines, and after that comes the real strategy of utmost import, if the land conquered is to remain so. Which is large scale divide and conquer, on every level, through every strata of the society or culture to remain colonised. The disease of separation spread like a virus, through families, communities and peoples, based on age, belief, body type, look, profession, possessions, you name it, it can be categorised into a million different splinter groups, unlikely to ever form again into a glorious whole of connected, acknowledged, diverse and conscious parts. </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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So as Australians, conquered how many times removed now? From the Romans, to the Roman Catholics, to the English, to the prison colonies on supposed Terra Nullis…….we've been collectively divided and conquered within an inch of our long and tangled ancestral paths. Split into billions of divisions and separations, some of the worst being within the splinters of the splinter groups, that fight each other for moral worth. Divided and separated from our families, our bonding in our family groups, our connection to our larger communities, and extended families, our food, our water, our lifestyles, our works, our art, our clothes, our music, our homes, our animals, our authenticity, our bodies, our birthing, our body hair, our sexuality, our mammalian selves, and our smells. </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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As a result of my birth, family life, religion and schooling, I was turned out into the world a bit disgusted by my own body and its emissions, and entirely grossed out by the thought of anyone else's. I shaved and waxed and make upped and permed and wore dozens of products all over my body. On my skin. The most sensitive and large organ we have on our bodies. I had sprays for my female bits, and sprays for my underarms, and shame for wherever my hair was that it wasn't 'meant' to be. I had soaps and special face scrubs, and shampoos and conditioners, and body creams and scented panty liners, and a rigorous body hygiene that saw any body juice or smell, as something to be cleaned up and away, and the appropriate 'better' smell applied. </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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Till I hit the lesbian world that is, where womens bodies were a representation of the goddess, and divine, and perfect as they were, and make up and shaving and all those other things were CHOSEN to be done, or not done at all…..PROUDLY! I started to chill on my rigorous hygiene, and started to relax into some body smells and juices. There were some women who had turned their back entirely on 'the system', and had amazing body smells, as they eschewed all corporations. And then when I left that world for the other places where rare humans dwelt, I found quite a few scenes with a love for the human body in it's natural form. Activists, anarchists, punks to be precise, are often members of the 'great unwashed', who have pushed off from the shore of chemicalised smells and shaved hair, into love and lust of the hairy, smelly, juice creating bodies we were born with. </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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But my Currawong was the port where I set sail into my body in its natural form, so intoxicated I was by the sheer smell and feel and hairiness of him. I'd reduced my money spent on corporate beauty products by a lot by the time we met, but still held onto aluminium free roll on deodorant under my arms, and a jolly good soaping and washing on a regular basis. If I went for a few days without washing I'd start to smell in a way I didn't like. And if I did sweaty work or sex, I'd often smell a little bit rancid after, and race off to the shower as soon as I could. I'd become one with my bleeding, and the various smells that come with that time, but I was still seeing my body odour and flora as something to be tamed. </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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And he hit my senses like a tidal wave. An olfactorial wash that made me want to dive into him again and again. His clothes, his bedding, his body…….the sweatier and sexier the better. A totally intoxicating mix of musk and skin and warmth and hair and himness. That can never be replicated or turned into a product, because it's his unique signature scent. When we were first courting interstate, I slept on the sheets and pillows we'd slept in for weeks, wallowing in the remnant smells of him. 15 years down the track I still find his scent the most delightful aroma in the world. </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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You know how all the other mammals smell each others noses, and bums, and bodies? Sniff them all over? From dogs and cats to horses and elephants, us mammals know that there's a lot to be learnt from smell. How a creature is feeling, when it's sick, when it's stressed, when it's fertile, when it's turned on, when it's angry, all of these things can be smelt. And are translated through our signature smells. The smells that identify us. The smells that are our birth right, inherited in our bodies. </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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</span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
So when we first got together, Currawong and I, a bit of fuss was made about his body smell. More heady than any cologne or aftershave that had ever wafted past my nose. Even the scent of our intermixed loving was an olfactorial orgasm. And I was curious about his superior smell, and why I didn't have one of my own. He told me to stop washing under my arms with soap. And to stop using all deodorants and products of any kind. And when I said that I'd tried that before, but I always ended up smelling rank, he said that was because the soap knocked out the ability of my underarms to regulate it's own microflora. And to just stop soaping and wait a while. Shower with whatever regularity I wanted, and keep soap for bits if it was really necessary, but just leave the rest alone. Wash with our pure rainwater only, rubbing and washing my skin with the roughness of my finger pads. </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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And blow me over with a feather he was right. After a few weeks of no soap under my arms, I started to smell like me. A signature scent that to this day, I can stick my nose in my armpit, and happily offer it to anyone to smell, with great pride and pleasure. I smell hot. I smell earthy and ripe and musky and sweet and it's all mine. A result of the foods I eat, and the emotions I feel, and the sex we set sail in, and the things I do. I've learnt that just like mens balls, when my underarms or <a href="http://spunoutpost.blogspot.com.au/2013/06/to-bra-or-not-to-bra.html">boobs</a> are constricted, or wrapped in polyester or plastic, they smell quite intense. They like to be free and be connected to the breeze so my underarm hair can do it's job of regulating and spreading the scent. So I wear clothes with no sleeves, or wide armpit holders, so there's no conqueror in my armpit. Cause underarm hair is a large part of the smell. Sometimes there's naturally formed salt crystals on them, and they just intensify the smell. And underarm hair, like boobs, and pubes, can definitely be completely left alone. To waft and move and jiggle and groove as they choose. Like many of our ancestors from time immemorial. </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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Not just communication, and not just sexual, our natural body odours are also great aides in bonding. And comfort. And creating a sense and smell of home wherever you go. I've had more than one child who has buried their head into my armpit when they're upset. And more than one person on whom I've casually left my scent in a hug, who has told me how good I smell. We had one friend who told us we were the strongest smelling humans she knew, and that it was a really good thing. We had friends who said they could smell us as soon as they entered a supermarket in Mt Barker, above all the air ducted smells, and they sniffed us out till they found us. We spent a night in a perfumed bed, and Spiral-Moon baby cried and cried and cried until we went out to the bus, got our sheets, and remade the bed with our bedding. Only then did she finally sleep. And at markets back in Maccy a bit down the olfactorial track, when more than a few had sniffed our whiff, we'd meet up early in the pre market dawn, and give each other a snuffle of our pits. Many a friend has vowed to stop using soap on their underarms, and told us later they were delighted with the results. Most of our birthing experiences have revolved around bonding, and wanting our baby to be born into the smells and feelings of home. To stay quietly with me and be welcomed to the world slowly and gently. To soak up the heady perfume of birth, that once you've smelt it you'll never forget. To bond closely, skin to skin, heart beat to heart beat, with no bras and deodorants and factory farmed smells intruding. If you look into early human practices, there was a time when we licked the perineum of our babies after they were born, like the other mammals. And the smells of birth were considered an integral part of a bonded birth.</span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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Because to be totally honest…..after spending so many years with real smelling humans, doing all the communicating and hugging and sniffing that we do, the cloy of a factory farmed scent is quite offensive to my nostrils. There's been so much fuss over the years, that some folk have even fronted me on, about the offensive smell of B.O. So many mainstream people seem assured that the best thing to do in the face of an authentic human animal smell is to disinfect it and cover over the scent with the same smell as a million others. At least. To hide it. Smother it. Get rid of it quick. I remember one night, in the height of our summer of love at the market, when there was a circus tent full of opera goers on the oval beneath our hippy camp. We walked down to check it out, and were assaulted by a tsunami of chemically toxic perfumes and colognes. I ended up holding my breath. Grieving for the olfactory sensation I'd been robbed of, had I been able to swim through an ocean of signature smelling humans. And Currawong and I both fondly talk about the events that we've been to full of human smelling humans. On summer evenings, with sweat drenched bodies singing their aromas to the wind, many moments of connection and bonding occurred. Our sex life revolves massively around our body odours. We communicate so much with the way we smell. One day I met Currawong at the door after a hot day away armpit first. And it made him melt to the point of almost collapsing. His knees instantly went from beneath him. And all the different zones on him, and how they smell, never cease to entrance me and stir me from stupor. He's my Pied Piper, and I'll follow his scent to the ends of the earth. </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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I'm only writing this, cause I was set to think by an <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2600074/Body-hair-natural-NOT-gross-Striking-images-women-unshaven-underarms-protest-conventional-standards-beauty.html">article about underarm hair</a> sent to me by a friend. It really tripped me out that, like the fella said…</span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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</span><br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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<span style="font-size: small;">Mr Hopper sees his project as a 'type of protest' against the beauty industry.</span></div><span style="font-size: small;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">'Although armpit hair is a natural state it has become a statement. Why is that?' he writes.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> 'For almost a century we have been brainwashed by the beauty industry, encouraging hair removal. Natural Beauty could be classified as a type of protest. </span><span style="font-size: small;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">'By creating a contrast between common "fashionable" female beauty and the raw unconventional look of female armpit hair, thoughts are intrigued and a discussion is made,' he explains.</span></div><span style="font-size: small;">
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><br /><br />Read more: <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2600074/Body-hair-natural-NOT-gross-Striking-images-women-unshaven-underarms-protest-conventional-standards-beauty.html#ixzz2zUurRJyT" style="color: #003399; cursor: pointer; margin: 0px; min-height: 1px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;">http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2600074/Body-hair-natural-NOT-gross-Striking-images-women-unshaven-underarms-protest-conventional-standards-beauty.html#ixzz2zUurRJyT</a><br />Follow us: <a href="http://ec.tynt.com/b/rw?id=bBOTTqvd0r3Pooab7jrHcU&u=MailOnline" style="color: #003580; cursor: pointer; margin: 0px; min-height: 1px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">@MailOnline on Twitter</a> | <a href="http://ec.tynt.com/b/rf?id=bBOTTqvd0r3Pooab7jrHcU&u=DailyMail" style="color: #003580; cursor: pointer; margin: 0px; min-height: 1px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">DailyMail on Facebook</a></span></span></blockquote><span style="font-size: small;">
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<span style="font-size: medium;">It really is quite bizarre that we find the natural state of our bodies that we were born with…..abhorrent. One of the models even pulled out of the project, cause she was so 'grossed out' by her body hair. I just don't get it. In a society ruled by many religions and spiritualities, collective in their belief that we are made in the image of God/ess, in whichever form that takes…….how have we got so far from loving ourselves exactly as we are? Aren't we meant to be a reflection of perfection? It doesn't occur to me much to talk about, as it's so completely and intrinsically part of who we are, but when I read this article I thought I should post out a view from one of the many alternatives to the beauty industry. Cause I know when I was enthralled with it, I never stopped to think that there was any other way. It's a great big arsed multinational corporation regime that has many dancing to the beat of its drum. </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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I love my underarm hair. And I don't have to be part of a project to do so. It's one of the sexiest things about me I think. Currawong concurs. And there is the odd human around who has kept a love for natural smells despite the mainstream. I remember once Hairy Dave back in Maccy, telling Currawong rather sheepishly that he wasn't trying to cut his lunch, but he saw me lift my arm, and the sweat glistening on my armpit hairs was glinting in the sunlight, and he couldn't help it mate, but he barred up! All said with a big grin and laugh of course. Love it. And I love every inch of hair on my man. Incidentally, I don't think I've ever shared mine and Currawong's theme song with you on here. I knew it from my lesbian days, and thought it was a hoot, and never expected that the song would go on to prove quite prophetic……except we obviously missed out a bit on the birth control :) But here it is nonetheless. Our theme song. 'I spent my last $10 on birth control and beer' by Two Nice Girls. <br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">And I can't talk about body hair without a specific mention of pubic hair. It's another amazing part of our bodies, that doesn't necessarily need taming. And a rather special part in my experience. One thing I particularly love about my pubic hair is that with every pregnancy I've experienced, it's grown really long. Like a hairy protective measure to keep what's inside safe. It also can perform a rather miraculous alchemical role in the collection of juices that can happen around there. And I've only ever shaved it off completely once, and by gawd it hurt and was itchy and scratchy when it started to grow back. How do you all go through that? And of course…..if I'm talking about pubic hair, I'm going to have to share with you Amanda Palmer's song 'Map Of Tasmania', cause when I saw it I really fell in love with her. Both the cheekiness and creativity of the whole clip and song about the map of Tasmania, but also her complete abandon for flashing her hairy pits. <br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Currawong and I totally agree, that the only humans that ever really enter our attraction radars, are totally hairy and smelling like themselves :) Let your hair and body be what they're meant to be! And at least run an experiment, to see whether there isn't a sexy smell lurking on your body, once it's had the chance to regain it's natural ecosystem…….</span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-19314487774071888802014-06-09T14:54:00.002+10:002014-06-09T14:54:31.131+10:00Sometimes It Feels Like I'm Living In Narnia<div style="text-align: justify;">
Anyone who's tried community living in Australia, whether it be formal or informal communities, like we have for our entire relationship……..knows that there's usually some form of rules on every single one of them about animals, and what sort are allowed there. Cats and dogs are usually forbidden, for the damage they do to the environment, and other animals are negotiable. Even on the informal communities we've lived on, there have been other folk who owned it or had been there before us, who had their own animals, and requirements for what sort did and didn't come. So we've been pretty animal free for years. We had a cat called Fuzznut who ended up getting old and really over babies, and let us know that she chose to retire to my mothers and daughters house, and a dog called Scratch who couldn't be with kids after she broke her pelvis and retired to my mothers too, till she died. Little Scratch came everywhere and got snuck into places she wasn't meant to be, cause she was so small and inoffensive. </div>
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But for 7 years pretty solidly now, we've had no pets except for the rats that we got at Billen. And we've dreamed about getting others, but been on communities up here in the Rainbow Region that wouldn't allow them. <br />
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So in moving here to our (mostly) private rental, we decided that the time was now. It was starting to break my heart, that Griffyn, who'd wanted a cat all his life, was 12 years old without ever having his own animal. I figured it was just time to let some animals in our lives, and that the relationships you can only form with other animals was a really important part of childhood that my kids were missing out on. Not to say that they weren't finding and connecting with as many wild species as they could……they find creatures in the weirdest places, and hang out with them as long as is safe, and then let them go. Lilly who loves all animals had a hard time getting to love leeches, but all of them have quite a large respect for leeches now, and will let them feed till they drop off. We're usually asked to take photos of the creatures we come across, and here's just a few, but there's lots more of them peppered through our photos.<br />
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I so love how Lilly manages to pick up bugs with stings at the front and the back gently, without hurting them, and then releasing them after she's admired them….</div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">We even had a wild duck follow us home and hang out for a night. She hung out in the house for the afternoon, and at night she sat on the lounge next to me, moving step by step closer until she was sitting on my lap. In the morning she went on her way, but we loved her visit….</span></div>
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But what really got us started on the animal collecting, was when our neighbours were away, and their rabbit had been ripped apart by a goanna, and had left 5 little babies that were too young to survive really. It pulled on all our heartstrings and maternal instincts, and we did our best to save them. I even crocheted them a handspun rabbit fleece blanket to lay on. But they died one by one, and we buried them with many tears.</div>
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And then 'stuff it!' I thought. It was time for us to invite animals into our lives. The first animal that came along was a beautiful rabbit called Nimue, or Nim. And in the process of meeting Nim, we also met the gorgeous Rhea and John of R&J Pets and Aquariums in Lismore, who have totally impressed us with their love for all animals as well as people, and their true integrity and compassion in how they run their pet shop. The first time we went in there, I was in the small animal room, and there was a bunch of younguns talking over the rats, and one of the girls was talking about how they wanted a big fat one, so they could see it in the belly, and I realised they were gonna feed one of these little hand raised rats to a snake. Rhea came in, and they picked their rat, and they all filed out and it was just Rhea and me for a minute. I told her what I'd overheard, and she walked out, coming back a few minutes later with a triumphant smile, and released the rat back in with his brothers, saying 'they're not feeding one of my hand raised rats to a snake!' I was so impressed. And just a wee while ago, John told a story on Facebook, about how an elderly lady was there one morning as he opened his shop, asking him to find her budgie another home, as she wouldn't be able to feed herself with the new budget, let alone her beloved budgie. His answer was to give her a stack of feed, and to publicly tell folks that pensioners now had 20% off all animal food to help out. I love those two. We find any excuse we can at all to go in and hang out and swap stories. </div>
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But back to Nim, Griff and her really loved each other. We'd never had a bunny before, so we tried to let her be a house living bunny, but that didn't work out. So we made her a big enclosure, and had a cosy bunny house for night, and all fell in mutual love with each other. </div>
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And cause we found R&J's, it was a great excuse to fulfil a bit of a life long dream for Currawong, as well as a huge desire of Mr B's, to get an aquarium full of fish. We knew we'd found the right people to advise us on it too. For example, I didn't know until John told me, that goldfish need a huge amount more room than most people give them. He won't sell goldfish unless you have a massive tank or pond. Cause if they don't have the space, their internal organs keep growing to the size their meant to be, even though their body can't grow any more, and they end up getting suffocated by their own organs. He created an underwater garden for us, and gave us incredible information and advice, and our little boys (and the rest of us) are totally mesmerised….</div>
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We also got some chookies, but they were very young too, and one died a few days after we got her, and the other one ate something under the house and choked. So we had just the one chook for quite a while, and we called her Storm Chookie. </div>
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Being the only chook for a while led to some rather…..interesting……behaviours. Cause she thought she was one of us. She fast became one of my favourite friends. And comes inside to visit us, and threatens me with laying her eggs on my printer, unless I provide an adequate roost for her. There's lots of Chookie stories that I've told on Facebook, but to get to all the animals, I'm going to have to keep it concise. Enough to say that I love my Chookie.</div>
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And we got a cat for Griffyn called Dreamer. You can see her on the chair in front of Storm Chookie. They tend to hang out together. She was a kitten who was born into love at a friends of ours home, and raised with the utmost bonding and respect. And she's quite unique. Currawong and I were both a bit dubious about how other animal friendly she'd be, and were prepared to build her a large cat cage off the house if she proved to be a killer. I've had cats all my life, and know that they usually disappear off for a while every day, and who knows how much they kill in that time. But Dreamer is different. </div>
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She was given her name by our friend from her birth, and we all assumed we'd change it when we got to know her, but ended up realising that the name suits her completely, cause she spends most of her time sleeping. We always know where she is, every moment of the day, cause she's always within sight of us, and she cuddles with Griffyn every night, and gets the shits if he sleeps away too long. She puts up with the little boy pack being rough with her, and laying on her, and carrying her around (we do our best to minimalise it) and seems to just love all of us. The kids the most though…..</div>
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But the most amazing thing about Dreamer is her love for the other animals. Like I said before, the relationship between Storm Chookie and Dreamer is quite cute. Dreamer spent a lot of still and silent time winning Chookie over. Convincing her that she was a friend. And we quite often see them hang out together.</div>
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And then came Pixel. Lilly's been wanting a dog for ever so long, and another dear friend had puppies that needed homes, and we brought a little boy pup home the night before christmas incidentally, and it didn't take long till he chose Lilly as his person. We call him Pixel. And if he gets fat when he's old, we can call him Mega Pixel :)</div>
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And like Dreamer, Pixel loves all the other animals, and they all get along. He was only 6 weeks old when we got him, and his mother got sick and her milk dried up, so he was just a baby when he came to us. And we attachment parented him, not out of any ideology, but because we couldn't leave him on his own, and there was always so much going on around him. So now Pixie is convinced he's one of the kids. He's a cheeky and sweet little thing. </div>
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So we were in pet heaven for about 3 months I reckon, and everything was sweet, and we learnt all sorts of things about the animals we have, and how best to look after them. And then Death came to town. Our neighbour has a habit of leaving her rabbits out of their cages, though most of them have met untimely deaths that way. And even though we asked her if she could put her male bunny away while we were trying to housetrain Nim, she refused. Inevitably, they got together, and we didn't realise it at the time, but that meeting was fatal. The male was far too big for Dwarf bunny Nim, and when she went into labour, a baby got stuck (it was never going to be able to get out), and we took her to the vet hoping a caesarean or something could help her, and were devastated to hear that rabbits really don't do anaesthetic well, and the chances of her surviving were minimal, and very expensive. I was in tears, and prepared to get a loan to pay for it, and had to ring Griff up on the phone and break the heartbreaking news to him, and in the end the best solution for everyone was to put our dear Nim down. </div>
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It was horrendous from top to bottom. My eldest daughter had come for a visit the day before, and it was a shock for all of us that such a tragedy had happened. Jess was awesome in helping and comforting, and we were all glad she was there. On the night after she died, Griff went to bed and cried and cried and cried, and it totally broke my heart that my firstborn son was going through his first big heart break. Dreamer cuddled so close to his face that we knew she was totally tuned in. And I got very angry at our neighbour. Threw a lot of judgement at her. And the very next day, after changing the procedure for the rats, trying to be extra careful that they got more shade on a hot day…….I quite stupidly put them in a place where they got full sun if we were away for too long, and in the process of that mistake, Lilly's favourite rat Snuggles died in the heat. We managed to save the others, even though they were thoroughly heat stressed, and Jess was amazing again in her calmness and assistance. </div>
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We were beyond distraught, and I wailed and said sorry over and over, and instantly thought that my judgement had come back to bite me on the bum. It seemed a harsh lesson for us all to learn. And was so very very sad. We all cried a lot. And built some graves for our loved animals. </div>
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But the next morning, after we'd lost two of our most loved animals over two horrible days, Lilly and I sat and talked on the verandah. She said that in a horrible way, she was getting used to death, and to the grief and loss, and that maybe in a way, that was actually a good thing, as we knew we were going to love lots of animals in our lives. She was also the first to notice in the following days, that there was a change in me. Up until these traumatic events, I'd been nice at arms length to Lilly's rats, and really didn't realise how much I'd come to love Nim. And it cracked my heart open to such a degree, that I felt like I pushed through that arms length approach, and reverted back to the full hearted love I had for animals when I was younger. I vowed to honour the demise of our loved ones by being a better animal carer. And went into full sook mode with Lilly. As much as it was awful, it also helped us appreciate the animals that are left in our circle even more. I took on the remaining rats with Lilly, and fell head over heels in love with Dusty, who is in the photograph with me and Storm Chookie up above as well. </div>
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And even though Griff didn't want to replace Nim, and knew that it would never be the same as it was with his first love, he fell for a bunny in R&J's again, and helped by Jess, who so wanted to help him heal, and bought him a beautiful bunny habitat, we ended up bringing Fleur home. She's not the same as Nim of course, but she's delightful. And very cuddly.</div>
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Zarra and the other little boys love her to bits, and visit her first thing every morning to feed her and pat her. She loves a pat more than any other rabbit I've met, apart from Nim. And she loves to lick their hands and faces. He can't resist getting in for a visit sometimes. </div>
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In fact…..lots of critters love to steal into Fleur's cage and hang out with her. Between her little home here and the big bunny cage outside that she's busy creating an underground home in, she has a pretty busy and loved life. Her and Storm Chookie were even timesharing her little night home for a while. Chookie decided for a bit that the bunny cage was the only place she was going to lay an egg.</div>
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With all the equals and opposites and ups and downs I must admit to being utterly thrilled by having all these animals in our lives. It does help us get used to death, and work out how to deal with it. And it also helps all of us to develop relationships with species that aren't only our own. There's so much we learn from all of it in fact, that we're always on the plan for more. But the best thing is the love. The huge amount of love given and received by us all. Not to mention the relationships between all the animals and how they all inter relate and get on! Sometimes I feel like Fern in Charlotte's Web, sitting outside just to watch and observe the interactions all around me. Not to mention the wild animals that come into and around the edges of our existence.</div>
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So much to learn. So much to love. So glad that we finally got to this place where we can explore this most important dimension, of the truly deep and human love and need for animal friendship.</div>
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Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3887847079702315563.post-11603631091849416682014-05-11T13:45:00.001+10:002014-05-11T13:47:24.610+10:00Mothers Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR65p79saoZgKsPzlJFbuB498kfgUcKYIXgtB_L1ZuYXsT3gDPIjLtdG70WEApWdZTxB1kGpj9_9mT8rGqBKYDDqEyQHpSkjimW3DrdDyrVV5UBuccyhbRTqg_6lc3ltdfCs6SiDSBxbHD/s1600/tumblr_mh54mjyxma1qgpi6ko1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR65p79saoZgKsPzlJFbuB498kfgUcKYIXgtB_L1ZuYXsT3gDPIjLtdG70WEApWdZTxB1kGpj9_9mT8rGqBKYDDqEyQHpSkjimW3DrdDyrVV5UBuccyhbRTqg_6lc3ltdfCs6SiDSBxbHD/s1600/tumblr_mh54mjyxma1qgpi6ko1_1280.jpg" height="320" width="318" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://traumwerk.stanford.edu/philolog/2006/07/gustav_klimts_pallas_athene_of.html">Pallas Athene by Gustav Klimt</a></span></div>
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When I was 21, I'd just had my first daughter, and woken up to a whole other world where my experience didn't fit with the mainstream, and I searched for where it did fit. One of the things I did to see what I'd woken up to but didn't understand yet, was to engage in a healing therapy called Prebirthing, with a woman who went on to become my mentor, and teach me many things. </div>
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In our very first session, where she was asking all about me, and where I'd been and what I'd learnt, she sent me off with the homework of a candle meditation. I was still relatively fresh out of a very complete religion, that considered just about everything to be potential tools of the devil to sway you from your righteous path, so even the thought of staring into a candle as I went to sleep was a bit oo er to me at the time. I was living with my mother and daughter in the house I'd grown up in, and after tucking my baby in to sleep, went to sleep myself while staring at the flame of the candle. And I kept seeing this triangle with a cross underneath it, and rubbing my eyes, and then seeing it again, and wondering what the hell that meant, and it was my companion the whole time I was awake.</div>
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My mentor had also invited me to a psychic fair the next day, held in the local RSL hall, and seeing all the tie dyed and velvet skirts swishing round the space made me fairly nervous. And there was this fella who hand carved wood in all different symbols, and lo and behold, there was the triangle and cross that I'd been seeing the night before! So I bought it as a necklace, and wore it always, and only found out later what it meant. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhSE-BrH60dq-rjpzwyK6PXGQHnBYq8ErmeLnuXSVFl_M5V2Cldv1K3IAgAx_gqDWAVEBuI0Q5tg7fOQ3cICKzPPzvSIkG7qrYro6XpqGjdKgn69wDtyi7ZYb8z620LB-PGXnqjLt36D5/s1600/AtheneSymbol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhSE-BrH60dq-rjpzwyK6PXGQHnBYq8ErmeLnuXSVFl_M5V2Cldv1K3IAgAx_gqDWAVEBuI0Q5tg7fOQ3cICKzPPzvSIkG7qrYro6XpqGjdKgn69wDtyi7ZYb8z620LB-PGXnqjLt36D5/s1600/AtheneSymbol.jpg" /></a></div>
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It's the symbol of the Greek Goddess Athena, also known as <a href="http://www.ucmeta.org/Pages/Articles/Symbols-Colors/Symbol-Dictionary-Mother-Preserver-Goddesses.php">Athene and Pallas Athene</a>, and also sometimes the symbol used for <a href="http://indianinthemachine.wordpress.com/2010/04/15/alchemists-work-mainly-with-three-substances-sulphur-mercury-and-salt/">Sulfur</a>.</div>
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And then a year or so later, I lent the necklace to my sister in law to be and never saw it again. Further down the track again, I had a lover who called himself a Yowie, who was a Kali devotee (he spent all his money on incense every week for the 'Black Darling' cause she was a 'jealous Goddess') and Archdeacon of the Church Of No World Order, as well as introducing me to Bob Dobbs and his head….who was horrified when I told him the story of the symbol. He couldn't believe I'd been given a magical alchemical symbol and then given it away. He was so distressed he went out straight away and carved me another symbol from pine bark, and instructed me to wear it till we went and got it tattooed on me in the proper respect and fashion. Which we did. </div>
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I drew it myself in my diary on the train down to Sydney, and when it was freshly done, it looked very similar on my skin to the bark that I'd been wearing. I went on to slowly find out all sorts of things about Athene over the years since then. She turns up in all sorts of ways through all sorts of myths and permutations, as explained surprisingly well by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Athena">Wikipedia</a>, but the bits about Her that have always appealed to me were from before She was born out of Zeus's head, and when She was a goddess in Her own right as Athene, and Pallas Athene. And I only found out She was also the patroness of spinning 6 years after I started spinning myself, which was pretty kooky. To me She's become the Goddess of Passion and Logic, Administration and Warfare, Spinning and Weaving. At least that's what I tell folk when they ask me what my tattoo means. I love the paradoxes, and the shadow, and just about everything I've heard and read about Her. And always considered that She was my personal Goddess who had picked me way back in that candle meditation. </div>
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And last year, I had a Kahuna Massage and met Her.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-lYwyBI4MycAy8JCrMAVEghM55dDbuO7lg6tJgW4W3gn8flUxzHLhOOiJE99ECi7UHcUDOahNkkJrNREZeg164DsWk8jkhCXeo3T1t7Eru0251pA4mnoQ8EnrldjPtLlkIvAdv_i7YCIR/s1600/athene_and_the_centaur_ba227144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-lYwyBI4MycAy8JCrMAVEghM55dDbuO7lg6tJgW4W3gn8flUxzHLhOOiJE99ECi7UHcUDOahNkkJrNREZeg164DsWk8jkhCXeo3T1t7Eru0251pA4mnoQ8EnrldjPtLlkIvAdv_i7YCIR/s1600/athene_and_the_centaur_ba227144.jpg" height="320" width="227" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.paintgallery.net/sandro_botticelli/athene_and_the_centaur.htm">Athene and the Centaur by Sandro Botticelli</a></span></div>
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I really don't know how to describe it without sounding like a new age tosser, but happen it did, and no matter what opinion you may have about me and how whacky I am…….I don't make shit up. I do my best to relate the stories of my life as honestly and authentically as possible, and just lately, I've realised that all my favourite stories of mine and other people's……are the stories that we all find it hard to tell each other, for fear of being laughed at, or disbelieved, or having our sanity questioned. And let's face it, most spiritual and religious experiences seem totally whacky unless you experience them yourself. </div>
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I'm not gonna go into every detail, cause for that you'll have to come over and stay the night so we can tell each other our real stories around the fire, but suffice to say I really met Her. Lots of people had been asking me about my tattoo, and I was finding myself telling the story often, and feeling like it was a distant magical experience that had become a bit dim over time, and then as soon as Kahuna hit my body She was there.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5HUdsTwXqf2I1S_kEJalAPsPtaukLoEUEoZfJxriDg1H_usAStP7astro32j7w1AsFDzZouLKXauiOMaRidc8OxS_mtMbmtW90-1RKbKKO4kbY2-0iaBmZKf3hPMK4wVlcIRqPl2h9Y2_/s1600/4816_0_Athene_Figur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5HUdsTwXqf2I1S_kEJalAPsPtaukLoEUEoZfJxriDg1H_usAStP7astro32j7w1AsFDzZouLKXauiOMaRidc8OxS_mtMbmtW90-1RKbKKO4kbY2-0iaBmZKf3hPMK4wVlcIRqPl2h9Y2_/s1600/4816_0_Athene_Figur.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.figuren-shop.de/kulturen-shop/de/Goetter-und-Helden/Bronziert/Athene-Figur-Goettin-des-Krieges::4816.html">Athene figure by Gottin des Krieges</a></span></div>
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Have you ever had a Kahuna?? I've only had one, and it rocked my socks completely. I've done quite a few rebirthing therapies over the years, and they've been powerful and potent experiences, but this was a full body mind-blowing trip. In a Kahuna massage, a healer dances round your body, stripping your flesh with their oiled hands, and dragging what feels like the earth and mountains of your flesh down and out and through your body. The first thing I thought was 'Here's Birth!', as my body totally recognised the whiff of birth and surrendered instantly to the well known energy. The woman doing the massage knew I'd had 8 babies, and figured I could hack the intensity, and went as hard and strong as she could, squeezing my flesh in exquisite agony. My body moved the same as it does in birth, and I was making the same sounds. The next thing I thought is that THIS was a REAL rebirthing experience. The last time I felt that kind of moist pressure on the whole of my body, was when I was getting my body squeezed in the birth canal on my way down to earth. And there She was.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUAs_iZ_dNs-sn28WZhZd7hY8VeWu08GJMlruVYxoqdwcc4DD09i4Jr1aT1x46pdjUVp7si4pFUmqGkDYNhh-oYggDgbxqeJnK-fY3Onn9pGZGYxoWgyfRgIHGoLIVxOSrT4HCBvWldshE/s1600/franz-stuck-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUAs_iZ_dNs-sn28WZhZd7hY8VeWu08GJMlruVYxoqdwcc4DD09i4Jr1aT1x46pdjUVp7si4pFUmqGkDYNhh-oYggDgbxqeJnK-fY3Onn9pGZGYxoWgyfRgIHGoLIVxOSrT4HCBvWldshE/s1600/franz-stuck-25.jpg" height="320" width="290" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.canvaz.com/gallery/13985.htm">Pallas Athene painting by Franz Von Stuck</a></span></div>
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I started crying and snotting with grief and relief as knowing tumbled and gurgled out of me from the tips of my toes, and realised that She'd always been there for me and always would. She was there with me as I squeezed into life, holding me and helping me be born. She was there with me through every one of the births I've experienced with my babies, and I felt Her there with me as I die. I felt and saw and experienced my death, and it was into Her arms and Lush and Soft and Embracing body. My biological mother and me as a mother and everything I know about the energy of mother is wrapped in Her arms. She is my real mother. She's always been there, and always will be, Her eternal and all encompassingly unconditionally loving self, is with me at the core of my being. All of this was happening within me as the Kahuna stripped the muscles of my body, and stripped me to my insides. </div>
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I was a bit surprised that it was Her after all these years, and after the story of Her had almost become a cliche. But it also made complete sense. I was thinking it was going to be some kind of lofty quantum realisation, or a pagan birth/death goddess, but of course it was Athene all along. As it was all happening, and I was feeling the waves of Her wash all over me, I thought to myself that this is the kind of spiritual transformational experience that can set a person off on a pilgrimage or quest, and was wondering to myself whether I should get another tattoo in honour of it, or wear certain colours, or set up an alter, or some other kind of ritual to signify the event, and I got the most profound sense of peace. That my form of worship was my life, and every single thing I've done has been my quest and pilgrimage, and I'm already doing everything I need, and a big and overwhelming knowing that everything was happening as it should. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghleINNfaUQqg9xgFyaC_ZxSLZY311qb-sUlyTfxQp1xCaFTu-r7Bx-4dg0b826_3UF2tkPFzbJbsqXpbeApZMwW501wuG8KyWsd8rUawBhu14JwExwfTE_AW8EIUO3tUkCZqLJ1I-pOAs/s1600/athene11.jpg.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghleINNfaUQqg9xgFyaC_ZxSLZY311qb-sUlyTfxQp1xCaFTu-r7Bx-4dg0b826_3UF2tkPFzbJbsqXpbeApZMwW501wuG8KyWsd8rUawBhu14JwExwfTE_AW8EIUO3tUkCZqLJ1I-pOAs/s1600/athene11.jpg.png" height="320" width="310" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://mythagora.com/bios/athene.html">Athene statue and stories</a></span></div>
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And then She channelled through my body. The only way I can describe it, is if you could contain the energy of solar systems and galaxies into a beam of energy that was about the circle of my linked arms, and rush that energy through my body in an electrical pulse that had me stretched out like Sigourney Weaver in Ghost Busters, where she's being electrocuted by spirits on a pedestal……. The healer was a bit disconcerted, as my body took over and this experience overshadowed everything. I felt the tunnelling of energy powering through my body, and then my arms raised up towards the skies, and I felt the energy rush through me and into the atmosphere. As it charged through, I eventually felt the end of it, and felt the end move through me and up through my body until at last I was holding Her hands, and crying and grinning with the absolute beauty of Her. And the Love. I was trying to explain it to the healer standing by with her hand on my heart. Trying to explain, while caught up in an ecstatic union, that I was holding the hands of my Goddess, and She was so utterly beautiful. This whole event was a kinaesthetic feeling experience as well as a visual and external one. And those last moments of holding Her hands were divine.</div>
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And She hasn't left me since. I've had fights with Currawong, and a rather intense journey through my personal fertility since then, and every time I've been on my own and would normally feel lonely, She's there. Every time I sink just a little below the surface She's all around me. When I'm feeling sorry for me, I can nestle in Her warm Belly and Breasts, and She'll hold me. And She shows up in all sorts of ways around me.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxolqozbbi3CZ0qLQHTU3B0ATLchIi4tdbqKs_Zh04Cu-Ofklbr_XyMvIeG63VUBz1cvLu1lquL-PX2cZc_Q9aOb5FxuyOOqieWddpP2hP-jNSOjlcmgYUOVIBzbNUgIzqllXXilFxWMz/s1600/Pallas-Athene-Brunnen-Parlament-Wien.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxolqozbbi3CZ0qLQHTU3B0ATLchIi4tdbqKs_Zh04Cu-Ofklbr_XyMvIeG63VUBz1cvLu1lquL-PX2cZc_Q9aOb5FxuyOOqieWddpP2hP-jNSOjlcmgYUOVIBzbNUgIzqllXXilFxWMz/s1600/Pallas-Athene-Brunnen-Parlament-Wien.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.city-walks.info/Vienna/Parliament.html">Pallas Athene Fountain in front of Vienna's Parliament building</a></span></div>
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It's changed everything and nothing. It's been who I always was but more of it. It's made sense of my personal story. It's connected me with my personal version of the divine. That makes sense to me. And it's real. To me. I've believed enough things in my life to know that this is all that really matters. I take her literally and not at all in the same instant. She is the ancient Greek Goddess, as well as more ancient versions of the Divine Feminine, as well as a metaphor that can come together under the umbrella of Quantum Physics. She's my personal metaphor that makes sense to me.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMg4XDuyQO6TjClSWYc9w1op_PF2_ZU84FL76cySUDdBE3BNbdroucBN_07TyQomFQxkqbnY_SnAXy4RcB56jO2O10lWz8xtHJJirUWNFoaq4nz3mbuly2Memak_v5LuJmViBi7wJIDrFr/s1600/weaver.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMg4XDuyQO6TjClSWYc9w1op_PF2_ZU84FL76cySUDdBE3BNbdroucBN_07TyQomFQxkqbnY_SnAXy4RcB56jO2O10lWz8xtHJJirUWNFoaq4nz3mbuly2Memak_v5LuJmViBi7wJIDrFr/s1600/weaver.gif" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://mythopoetry.com/dialogs/athene_mirror_three.html">Athene as Weaver and stories</a></span></div>
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I don't need anyone else to believe me, and I don't want to start a church or cult, in fact I don't need anybody else to believe what I believe at all. But it works for me. And I think that's all we're really meant to find. Our own version that works for us. Makes sense of our own personal journeys in a unique way that powers our spirit. That can be the same story that a lot of other people share, or a totally individual and inner honed one. </div>
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So Happy Mothers Day. To me, and to Her, and to my biological mother, and all the mothers of the world wherever they be, and in whatever state. To the divine feminine within us all, male and female and whoever lays between, and all the ways She shows up through all of our metaphors. </div>
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<br />Helena Posthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07442132139130785495noreply@blogger.com4