Help!

Well the unimaginable has happened.  On friday we had two working vans, one our home on the road for 7 years and one as a parts vehicle with a nearly new engine (very grown up)......and today we have none.  

It was rather an iconic van. Transporting us all as we grew and travelled in our flowmadic way

It was our home every sunday as we were part of a Growers Market in Macclesfield SA.   It once performed in a military vehicles display at the Strawberry Fete, as the 'swords to ploughshares' exhibit.

It took us to the most amazing places......camping an incredibly large amount of people comfortably

Here it is in its crocheted splendour.  A haven to the fibre and colour addicted

With artworks by friends....

Camping outside Alice Springs

Thoroughly, completely, crochetedly unique.....

We thought we had it sussed, and had complete vehicular security.  Our beautiful roadhome of many years was running smoothly, and we had a parts vehicle to slowly replace her fading parts with.....

Till we went shopping on friday, and on the way home it made a funny noise.

Our roadhome gently died by the side of the road.  We dropped a timing belt. 

We got the kids home with a friends help, and got it towed and considered ourselves lucky as we had the spare.  Currawong reckons our whole van looked sad as she sat on the tow truck.   So he spent three solid days making the other one roadworthy, only to take her out on her maiden voyage and she died an oily death. Possibly dropping a rear main seal.  We got home quick, a bit dumbstruck, and put it on the shelf to feed and bed babies, and decided to leave it till morning.  And I wake up this morning in excited shock.  Ya know that kind of rush you get when present at the great mysteries of life?  With every death a new beginning.....

Can't quite believe that our van is dead.  And the back up van too.  

Now is the time to put into action all those "If anything really drastic happened we could..." ideas.  We need some help.  Caught totally on the hop we have us nine people without any transport.  Without  much savings.  And in need of a miracle.

We've decided we need to get a coaster sized van in order to be able to go out together with our rapidly growing family.  We've actually been talking about it for a while, but felt too much loyalty to our beloved van to take any further steps.  Till the ball's been taken out of our court so to speak.  

We need a new canvas for our dreams.  Getting a vehicle that can carry the nine of us, and the ten of us when Jess visits, is no ordinary feat.  And we could really use some help.

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I'm starting the (snow)ball rolling and selling my book 'Balthazar & Nimue - A Love Story' as an ebook on my blog. A 12 year old book that really wants to be born.  

I'm going to start listing wearable art pieces on my blog as well.  

And we're strongly considering selling both vans to someone mechanical who could make the one awesome van out of them both.

Rather than do a fundraiser, I'd like you to get something for your money, but if you felt compelled to donate us some money to speed our way to a new vehicle and home on the road, there's a donate button on my blog too, halfway down the side bar.  

Please help to share with anyone you think would like to help us.

the last installment.......

For the uninitiated, you're about to read chapters 5 - 8 of a book that started two posts ago, so if you want to start from the beginning go here -  http://spunoutpost.blogspot.com.au/2012/02/love-story.html   And I'm not sure I'm going to continue with this concept, because I seem to have lost most of my readers along the way.  In fact, I'm pretty sure that this is the end.  If you were one of the five readers who really loved this, then email me and we'll work out how to get you a copy. 

 

CHAPTER 5 -  Tremble in your arms....... 

And that’s when it happened.  The folding of faces and layers to sex and dark and skin warmth.  All of their best was tangled with blessings and tranquillity.  All of their worst was loved and acknowledged, seen for it’s heartache and seamlessly healed.

They saw all within.  The maiden the youth, the mother the father, the crone the wizened, the rapist the victim, the phallus the cunt[1], the father the daughter, the mother the son, the despair the elation, the sacred the profane, all interchangeable, all connected, all within.

And the interchangeable bits became so distractingly quick in their flux that the spin was dizzying.  Then the flickering slowed to deep moving waters of connection and sanction.  Belying all with the rocking uterine waters of the mother, seared by the phallus of the consort in deepening thrusts.

They fucked and sucked, kissed and slid, giggled and moaned.  He travelled her soft skin and supped her sweet nipples.  She folded him into her warmth.  He filled her inside in every way possible, sexual and spiritual, slow and quick.  She dragged him with her to spiralling heights to see the terrain below.

And around and behind them sat hordes of ancestors, divided they died, and united to watch.  To see this marriage of death and life, polarities melded within.

---

[1] Cunt:  Contrary to popular belief, this is not a derogatory name to denigrate a woman and her genitalia.  It’s actually derived from the Oriental Great Goddess Cunti, or Kunda, the Yoni of the Universe.  Also the root of words such as cunning, ken, cunicle ( a hole or passage ), cunctipotent ( having cunt magic ), county, kind, and often synonymous with woman, though not in the insulting modern sense.  In pagan Europe there were many shrines dedicated to female genitalia which Medieval clergymen called cunnus diaboli, or ‘devilish cunt’.  For more information read the entry ‘Cunt’ in ‘The Women’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets’ by Barbara G. Walker.   

CHAPTER 6 -  Soft Tranquillity

“Who are you?” he asked.

 She looked at him with a gaze of intense curiosity, and that open warm feeling you get after engaging in an extremely fine fuck.

“I’m magenta flowing life, streaming through the gaps and silky touching the fibres of people around me.  Inspiration and magical interlude.  Ancient past and new born babe.  Wearer of many faces and lifetimes, stories and memories, smiles and tears.”

 He looked her deep in the eyes.  Tall, sanguine, shine dark hair with glints of blood, line traced face, full skin lips, tree green eyes, and fine smooth nose.  Full soft body of belly curve, and gentle breasts.  Long white limbs and soft white hide.  And the strength of fire in her gaze.

“Who are you?” she spoke back.

He kept up his gaze in her eyes.  Dark pool eyes.  Endless reaching eyes.  He looked into her and murmured...

“I’m the dancer the laugher, the raper the light bringer, the wounder the wounded, the husband the lover, the violated the desexed, the bull and the blade.....”

She watched him as he talked.  Long velvet, dark hair, curled down a shoulder hollow.  Lean frame draped on the bed.  Hard line of muscle smoothed by soft satin hollows.  Grey blue eyes, holding grief and wisdom.  Elegant line of lip, over a fine bone sculpted chin.

She caught her breath and gently closed her eyes.

“I think I’ve known you before.”

CHAPTER 7 - Clouds, all are clouds......

Aware their time was limited, they exchanged as many signposts of their lifescapes as they could. 

Not that long ago, she’d sat on Sunset Rock, curved in a hollow of craggy ore, feeling herself drawn into the valleys and cliffs and vista’s before her.  She’d stared at a cloud and made it dissolve.  Stared at it so long and intensely, and imagined it melting till it did indeed start to disappear.  It wisped away before her eyes, and left no trace of it’s visit.  She moved her gaze to a larger cloud, and it happened also the same.  Then a larger cloud still, and it melted away to pre-existence.  It was only when she’d thought to herself...

“How can I do this?” that she found she couldn’t melt clouds anymore.

He’d spent a time at a night club on peyote, and become so involved in new views perceived, that he changed his form to become life force.  He’d moved his life force into a stranger’s body, speeding through veins and blocks, knot muscle and grief, till that body, as he watched from the outside, became looser and taller and cleaner.  Amazed by the outcome he’d moved into others, to melt through and unblock, feeling awesomely charged by his pursuits.

And inbetween all these stories shared and pictures drawn they kept up their loving.  Trying new poses and angles, movements and moist.  They entered the realm of an infinite world where past becomes present and futures diverse.

CHAPTER 8 - Back to the outside

It was time to part.  Dawn struggled it’s way through the steely clouds to warm the currents.  He wasn’t as free as her.  There were other lives he was dancing in, that weren’t quite ready to loose hold.  And he still had warfare’s, and bloodshed, to try and repair.  He was still God in some circles, that he had to remain in, till a gentle extraction was hailed.  But he knew he had found his sign.  He knew now where to aim his bow.

She on her part, had already travelled the masculine lands of destruction and blood, had driven deep down in it, and tasted the air there, sucked it in deep, and let it form itself in her words and tongue.  She’d cowered under the harsh rule, and licked her anger down.  As she’d been slave in that world, she understood him intimately.  Far more than he ever knew.  Being slave made it easier for her to drop that role, and step into another.  Far easier than forgoing the role of God.  And now she’d lost the skins she’d used to view him, he stood out beyond them, resplendent and new.

So they found it hard to part.  They held swift to mere distractions and whimsy’s, to cling to their time in the room.  The ancestors watching began to leave.  The main course was over, they were off for desert.

“When will I see you again?” he asked her.

“When you can I’ll be ready.  I’ve been waiting so long for you to see me truly, that any time now is timeless.  When you’re free come to me, but you must surely be free, for I’m not keen to feel pain again.”

They held onto each other as long as they dared, and even outside, in the cool morning light, they clung to what moments were left.  No promises, no treaties, just a silent agreement that what had been shared was sacred.

My greatest creations....

So I've realised, as a lot of people already know, that my greatest creations are my babies.  My 5th child was born on the 28th of November, and had a bit of a surprise entrance!  He decided he'd help my growth by encouraging me to face every fear I ever had about birthing - to birth out of water, be transferred mid labour, go into a hospital for birthing, have a spinal and caesarean, and have a hospital stay of two days........  All of which was nowhere near as scary as I thought it would be, and in fact was conducted with the utmost grace and respect.  We had a bit of an impact on the staff as well - we did a lotus birth and were incredibly greatfull for two stereotypical 'hippies'.  We've called him Balthazar Pheonix Post, to go along with Spiral-Moon Post, Lilith Magenta De-Ath Post, Griffyn Flux Post, and Jessica Kaira Post......

The photo's of all the other kids were taken a while ago, and I only found them again just before Balthazar's birth, and it blew me away how stunning they all are.  Like a friend said, it seems that Currawong and I have stumbled on a good genetic combination!!  Must be something to do with our Friesian heritage.  Speaking of which, I was a bit thrilled to find out that Balthazar was the name of the last rebel Friesian freedom fighter!!!  I've been obsessed with the name for a long long time, and it's good to have a quirky Friesian story to explain it with...

So we ended up with our perfect birth afterall, just not the way I'd thought it was going to be.  After 1 hospital birth, a 2nd hospital water birth that was as close as you can get to a homebirth in hospital, a 3rd homebirth and water birth, and a 4th homebirth, waterbirth and lotus birth, to have my 5th as a ceasarean in hospital has nicely rounded out my experiences and learning.  We found out after trying to do the homebirth thing, and it not working, and getting to Flinders, that his cord was wrapped around his neck, and he was 'leashed' high in my womb by a high up placenta, and there was absolutely no way he would have survived (or me either more than likely), or could have been born, unless we had access to western medicine and a caesarean in particular.  

And I have to admit now that I had been judgemental about caesareans, and western medicine in general, and I'm glad to have had this experience to become less one eyed about the whole shebang.  Considering I'm attempting to write a book about birth, sex, and death, I think it's highly fortunate and timely for this event to have unfolded as it has!  Also taught me to never say never, as no-one would have thought that I'd need a caesarean on my 5th birth with my birthing history!  

This appears to be the lesson of the year for me - to never say never.  To avoid trying to predict and plot the future.  And to surrender to the flow and wherever it chooses to take me.  Which is one of the very greatest lessons about birth in general as far as I'm concerned - to surrender. Birth will be what it will be, no matter what plans you may make in the meantime!

So.

Back to crochet and spinning and the like in my next posting - just had to take a birthing interlude.....