Life on the Edge

The shiny, reflective, inner beauty of the Split Rock only came about after the whole was broken open. Your heart is now thus. The pain of the American and Australian elections can lead us to a deeper wisdom, a deeper compassion, a deeper love for all of life. These winds that seem endless and, at times, all too tiring, are polishing are character. Let them serve this purpose. This week half of America is licking their wounds. Well, keep licking. Like any animal that has been hurt, bruised and battled scared, now might be the time to retreat softly into the protective custody of friendly surrounds. Take time to be kind to yourself. Just remember that half of America still believes as you do. And, I would guess, most of Europe. You are not alone. Yes, keep licking. Try ice cream. The dew off a leaf. Your lover. Do not forget the sensual beauty of this world. Do not forget the delicious flavours this earth gives away freely each day. Indulge in them. Take time to immerse yourself in the joys that are found in the woods, the sea shore, the valleys and the mountains. And after the licking has healed whatever needs to be healed, come back into the ring again and stand tall for the earth, for social justice, for peace.

Hanging broken and limp like the wing of a fallen eagle, the flag guarding the entrance into the Peace Garden took as bad a beating by the wind this past week as liberal democracy did in Australia on Saturday when the far right conservative party was re-elected with control of both houses of Parliament.

All the moral aspects of governance, that for eight years have been lacking in the Liberal Party's platform of pro-business, pro-war and anti-environmental and social concerns, are back on the back burner again languishing for want of an informed public. In Tasmania, for a brief moment preceding the election date, it seemed our mighty forests, under a newly elected Federal Labor government, would be handed a reprieve and taken off the death row of impending clearfelling and wood chipping. Sadly, not to be. To have gotten so close, only to have moved backward, is an almost crushing burden many hearts in the Tasmanian Green movement will have to carry. The equivalent situation in America would be if Bush was not only re-elected, but with an even greater majority in Congress despite all the efforts of everyone to bring about change. Today is the fourth morning after the deluge. It is dawn with the sun just breaking over the eastern hills and I am at the eternal flame of the Peace Fire asking for guidance and looking inside myself to see if there is the strength to pick up the flag, mount it on yet, another pole, and set it waving again.

A gust of wind comes up blowing through the "more mature" South Esk pines encircling the Peace Fire. Millions of grains of pollen fill the air not unlike the magic moment when the coral reefs release their billions of eggs into the vastness of the ocean's currents, and I am encased in a very potent fog of red dust. It is a very strange experience; almost miraculous in its timing. And then the answer comes to me. All of us, especially those elders among us; those with a few more years of experiencing life in its fullness; those who have been at the forefront of environmental and social change; and those of us who have touched the void before and have come back with a deeper wisdom.... we have to remain virile in body and spirit. We can never give up on the spreading of seeds of change. This is a cry from the heart of all hearts to embrace the day with feet planted into the earth and arms thrust upward into the sky and beyond to the stars. Let fly into the air seeds of hope, stories of love, words of delight for all things green, all creatures great and small. Constantly sing up the earth. Breath in fear and despair and blow out a never ending stream of activity; of decent activity. And the stronger our exhale, the farther our seeds will travel. It is true that in our lifetime we might not see the fruit of the seeds we have planted. But it is so very important to keep planting them, despite what seems as hopeless odds; despite the seeming unjustness of it all; despite just wanting to curl up in bed and face the wall. If we're in the "wilderness" for a few more years, so be it. Just remember what Shakespeare's Duke Senior had to say about this in "As You Like It": "Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything: I would not change it." And so, I commit myself to continue on with the Work; to continue walking the path of Peace; to spread, in as compassionate a manner as possible, the message of peace; to use what skills I have to foster a dialogue for change; to be open for change myself; to develop new skills where needed; and never let a day slip past without savouring for a moment the deliciousness of life.

My intention today was to write about the fur seal that swam within meters of me this past Saturday with a grace and ease that I could only wish for. I changed my mind the first time when, this afternoon, I accidentally came upon a wombat in broad daylight and, seeing his comical gait, wanted to share the gratitude I felt in knowing that the numbers of these delightful, walking sacks of concrete were increasing.

But, it was seeing the Peace Spiral reflected in the pond just at dusk that I knew what I needed to write about. It was seeing its reality distorted and made to appear transitory that I was made to ponder on how difficult the achievement of peace really is. Not because it isn't possible, but because there is a shortage of leaders with the vision to lead us to peace. Consider the following and ask yourself if these words could be spoken by any of our political candidates today as they make their way across the country seeking our votes. "Let no man pull you so low as to hate him. Always avoid violence." "If you succumb to the temptation of using violence in your struggle, unborn generations will be the recipients of a long and desolate night of bitterness, and your chief legacy to the future will be an endless reign of meaningless chaos." These words were spoken by Martin Luther King in a sermon delivered nearly 50 years ago. In this election year, are there any politicians who have the insight King possessed? Are there any governments courageous enough to "give peace a chance"? May I suggest that when voting day arrives, we cast our votes to those candidates prepared to work for peace in ways other than pre-emptive strikes.

7 AM. Dawn. As the sun edged its way up over the horizon, a squall moved in from the west. From my vantage point at the Peace Fire, I could see a rainbow at the leading edge of the storm make its way across Storm Bay. What a stunning and joyful beginning to this day. This morning's normal round of prayers for the earth, humanity and my own personal problems, became edged with an excited hope full of potential goodness and loving kindness for all. Walking back to the Peace Spiral I was able to photograph a double rainbow just seconds before a golden shower of rain descended upon my head.

Half dancing, a touch euphoric, I bounced back to the house for an extra delicious breakfast of a Windgrove sized coffee and four large slices of sprouted rye toast spread with three types of jam. My mood remained buoyant from having seen the double rainbow. Wanting to get into my studio to continual sanding a small boat sculpture, I quickly downloaded my e-mails and took a look at the online morning news. My mood was no longer buoyant. Talk about spoiling a wet dream. This is what I read: "......Operation Rainbow. Israel's latest military offensive at Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip. At least 12 demonstrators were killed and dozens wounded when missiles were fired into a crowd of civilians in an attempt to ward off more than 1,000 demonstrators approaching Israeli forces......." How dare the military use "rainbow" in an operation of wilful violence and death. How dare any government take a universal symbol of peace and harmony and bastardise it by association with war. Government spin doctors might scream back, "Rainbow Warrior", but Greenpeace is about civil disobedience, not bloodshed. The Rainbow Coalition and other peace groups have always used the rainbow as a symbol of racial and religious tolerance. Perhaps Israel's political and military planners should use the slogan: Destroy the Rainbow. Because that is what they are doing.

Wearing a shirt with "New York" written across the top that reminded me of the recent 2nd year anniversary of 9/11, my neighbour's younger son, Patrick, sought refuge in my studio recently asking that I instruct him on how to carve a spiral. As I watched him from the corner of my eye while working on my own carving, his determination to learn as well as his quiet patience touched me. "Here is the future", I said to myself. "May this young boy grow up with the wisdom and courage and skills to live a full life in a peaceful world." Today, I received an email discussing the arrival at Windgrove in January of 12 students and two facilitators from the Rhode Island School of Design on the east coast of America. For five days they will camp out, explore, create art and learn..... what? Yes, what is really taught at Windgrove? What discourses happen around the Peace Fire? What learning takes place walking around the Peace Garden? What accumulation of knowledge occurs when a person or people gather on this land? This is for certain: students can at least gather here. Across the world democratic countries are becoming more fascist in their attempts to control terrorism, and increasingly facile with their use of spin to indoctrinate the public. Tasmania, relatively speaking, is still a safe place to speak one's version of the truth and to learn from others their truth. (Unless, of course, you're talking forestry.) Although a bit tarnished and tainted by the American governments continuous suppression of democratic rights in Guantanamo Bay, one of the most universal symbols of political freedom and democracy is the Statue of Liberty situated in New York harbour. Standing 151 feet tall or 46 meters, designed by the sculptor Frederic Bartholde and commemorated in 1886 as a gift from the French, it has welcomed onto the shores of America thousands upon thousands of immigrants and refugees seeking a life free of tyranny; a chance at grasping freedom and turning it into prosperity and happiness; a chance to speak.

I'm never sure if size makes any difference or not, but on Roaring Beach this week the Windgrove shadow of "Liberty Enlightening the World" (the statue's original name), cast itself tall and potently along the sand. "Give me liberty or give me death", cried a much older Patrick than my neighbour's son. This was the American Revolutionary War patriot, Patrick Henry who, in a speech delivered in 1775 sought to convince his peers that the political bureaucrats of the day (the British) were incapable of honouring the will of the citizenry and, therefore, a recourse to arms was the only way to protect the land/ the country. "In vain", he said, "may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope." Although I, myself, am willing to die for the country's trees, I would prefer, instead, to use non-violent acts of civil disobedience to democratically express any anger over the Tasmanian governments increasingly arrogant policy of clear felling our world heritage rain forests. I have not given up hope, yet. In her newest book, "Earth Alive", scientist Mary White writes: "The continued logging of the Gondwanan forests in Tasmania is environmental vandalism. They are the largest remaining temperate Gondwanan forests in the world. The fact that they have been here for up to 60 million years and are little changed, with priceless biodiversity, should be enough to ensure their survival, unchanged, in spite of human greed." What awaits those young people coming into a world of diminishing ecosystems? Will Patrick have a happy future? Between his youth and old age, will the Peace Fire at Windgrove stay burning? Or, will there be a time when the children of today are forced to take up arms to protect their country from the rapacious appetites of corrupt politicians?

What are all these stamped envelopes? For the last two days I have been preparing a formal letter that is being sent out to all 57 of Tasmania's elected state and federal parliamentarians; a letter that explains the reasons behind the Dawn to Dusk Parliament House Vigil on August 19. Will the letter get read? Hopefully, because the vigil is a plea from many people who want their politicians, when they deal with the forestry issue, to "bring a sense of reverence and dignity to the livelihoods of all Tasmanians and to the lives of all of Tasmania's flora and fauna". "The focus of the vigil is certainly the forests, but it is also about people and how government policy affects both people and the forests. It is a vigil seeking change, not only as regards the government’s treatment of the forests, but how our Federal and State governments treat their citizens." "The intent of the vigil is to push past the rhetoric and get all elected parliamentarians to consider the forestry debate in terms of reconciliation instead of compromise. Compromise tends to seek resolution through dividing up of whatever is being "fought" over. True reconciliation is about making something sacred again. As soon as governments treat all people and nature with reverence, then the potential for truly sustainable policies on logging and/or conservation become possible." ••••••••••••••••••• So why is Tim, the visiting cellist, smiling? The answer lies in the background to his right. With the last stamp being put on letter # 57, we are ready to head down to the "Beach" for my daily surf and Tim's stroll. Well, not quite ready. Tim still has to practice his cello for an hour.

Is there a river within the soul that ferries vision after vision into one's consciousness? What forces are at work when an idea floods into one's mind, knocks over all the existing furniture and makes a space for itself way out of proportion to its.... its...well, it's just plain bad behaviour to come in all unannounced and uninvited, isn't it? I can't answer this. What I do know, however, is that once an idea, no matter how trivial, either tip toes or drives a truck across my threshold of awareness, I had better pay attention. Not only pay attention, but water and nurture the germinating bud into blossom. Not to do so, is to 'not' allow the mysterious hand of divine guidance to give me a proper push (or slap) in the direction I most need to go. Especially, if that direction is about healing my human relationship to this sacred earth. Which explains why I am strongly behind the effort to organise a one day vigil at Tasmania's Parliament House on August 19. For full details see www.tasmanianstogether.net. After the Styx Valley of the Giants rally, I came away with the feeling that it wasn't just the speakers speaking well that galvanised a sense of hope among everyone. It was the collective heart-voice of the massed crowd that amplified and lifted up out of the ordinary each speaker's speech. A tiny thought then entered into my mind that if this same group of people or more could come together at the opening session of Parliament House with the expressed intent of using their massed silent presence to speak their concerns about Tasmania's old growth trees, then the politicians inside could not fail but to react in a positive way. So watch this space. See politicians take vows of humility in front of thousands. See entrenched forestry practices come tumbling down quicker than the Berlin and Jerico Walls. Most importantly, witness the truly democratic process of public participation.

This morning, like every other morning, I awoke to the sight of this tree photographed through the open French doors of my bedroom. It’s a eucalyptus tenuramius more commonly known as a silver peppermint. Its age is around 100 years; not ancient yet, but worthy of respect. All week I have been mourning the loss of this tree’s cousin, El Grande, a 350 year old eucalyptus regnans cooked to death in a Forestry Tasmania regeneration burn. With a girth of 65 feet (20 metres), it was the largest tree in Australia and possibly the largest tree outside of North America. Try to imagine standing on it’s stump: a dance floor 24 feet across. Has Forestry Tasmania shown any remorse? Hardly. Hoping that the public will forget about El Grande’s death, all they have done is issue a statement saying that it will take a year before it is known for certain if the tree is totally dead. Frankly, I don’t think they give a damn. Forestry Tasmania’s willingness to protect El Grande and our natural heritage is on par with the US military's defence of the museums in Iraq. There is only one word in the English language that comes close to describing the outcome of their stupid, arrogant, idiotic, immoral, asinine, shameful, despicable, repugnant, offensive, ugly, illiterate, callous, heartless, brainless, heinous, vicious, foul, witless, depraved and unbelievable behaviour. That word is “Tragic”.