Life on the Edge

If there is any one spider that visually exemplifies all the fears of every arachniphobe in this world, then it would be the Tasmanian huntsman, as ferocious a spider as one could imagine. In truth, it’s not all that dangerous. With no poison, just a mean bite, it just looks ugly as hell with its two inch to three inch diameter body and furry legs . Some ancient fear, however, is easily brought to the fore when a huntsman drops from the car visor onto your lap while driving. Anyway, the other morning after I had replenished the firewood on the Peace Fire, just as I sat back for a little quiet time, I noticed a huntsman spider running frantically up and down the log that I had just put on the fire; a spider definitely in a hurry to get out of an increasingly difficult situation. In my attempt to help world peace, inadvertently, I was destroying this spider’s home and creating a refugee as he/she fled their homeland the woodpile. It was too late to pull out the log, so I got the shovel and tried to coax the spider onto it so that I could, at least, carry it to greener pastures. No way. The spider avoided the shovel and just kept hopping around on its eight warming feet. Okay..... “Take a deep breath and bend down and pick up the scared, scary spider with your bare hands”, some higher more compassionate force within me screamed its plea. Did it. And, I felt a bit of pride in overcoming my initial fear. I sat back down to continue the morning’s meditation when, you guessed it, another two spiders crawled out from under the bark of the same log and began their search for an exit. The last one was captured on film before being provided with safe passage in the palm of my hand. No sweat.

Question: What's missing in the above photo? Answer: A diminutive, red breasted scarlet robin sitting on my head singing a song. Although this photo was taken this evening to (sort of) show how things were this morning, what happened is this: Every morning I start my day off by first going over to sit on the ancestral midden bench for a few moments; meditating a little and thanking the ancestral spirits for protecting this property. This morning, with eyes closed trying to wake up my heart and mind to move into the work of the day, I sort of felt a bit defeated at the prospect of people ever living in peace with the world let alone with themselves. Worse still, I felt no energy towards contributing anything to the global peace process. I just wanted to stay at home. My thoughts then turned into a simple prayer confiding that all I really wanted was to just be guided into a gentle awareness of how to be totally "at one" with those sentient beings around me here at Windgrove; where boundaries were fluid and I could dissolve my tiny self into a greater whole; where, if I were to live in peace with anyone or anything, it would begin here. With eyes still closed, a peace dropped over me as the earlier anxieties evaporated. I opened my eyes and, as I gazed out across the pond to the spiral of hope, a little bird landed on my head. I didn't know what kind of bird it was, but I could feel its tiny feet prancing lightly on my skull. Then it began to sing. Chirp, chirp, chirp. The sensation was..... was.... well..... just wonderful. When it flew off revealing itself as a scarlet robin, I smiled a big smile and then laughed as I put my hand on top of my head to feel if my friend had left a small white gift behind.

Animals seem to know when something dangerous is about to happen. Birds head north (or south) when winter approaches. Ants get desperately busy before a storm. Quiet falls across the land before an earthquake. These are harbingers and nature's messengers that the days ahead might be difficult. Up against my fire wood shed and facing the entrance to the drive into Windgrove, is a small donation box. Oblong and vertical in shape it receives a scattering of coins from grateful visitors. For the last couple of days a baby brushtail possom has sought refuge in it.

The message: "Help. I've lost my mother and father and I am hiding here out of harm's way. Will you protect me?" I pray that when the bombs fall on Iraq, the memory of the many innocent children who will be maimed or murdered in the name of peace will not be forgotten. Bush, Blair and Howard seem hell bent to have their way. When the refugees start streaming out of the war zone, let us open our homes and hearts to them.