Life on the Edge

In an attempt to bring some energetic lightness and dance to the Peace Pole, there are now flags surrounding it fluttering their message of hope. Yesterday, I finished dying the twelve calico banners that my neighbor, Caroline, had kindly cut and sewn beforehand. The fun part in all of this was to take the cloth down to the ocean for a cold, salt water rinse to fix the dye. Playing with the fabric in the water and watching the several pieces flow with the movement of the waves like brightly colored kelp was a real treat as, normally, I deal in hard materials such as wood and stone. Late this afternoon, seeing them catch the last rays of the sun whilst they flapped wildly on their spinly bamboo poles encircling the Peace Pole, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope that, in this world gone mad with proving who can be more violent, compassion and tolerance will ultimately guide every politician's motive. It is hard to deny the flags' collective call for freedom. It is hard to deny their diversity of color. It is hard to deny their cheerfulness May peace prevail on earth.

My neighbour's father is in intensive care in the north of the state, so Mick needs someone to look after his dog while he and his partner, Caroline, do bedside vigil at the hospital. "I hope he won't be a problem for you", I'm told as Mac gets dropped off at my doorstep. "No problem", I say. Besides, who could look into those brown eyes and not be seduced. Actually, there have been several problems. The first was yesterday when I was giving a serious interview for an ABC radio national program next to the Peace Pond and Mac started barking joyfully and splashing around in the water doing his best to upstage me. The second problem occurred when I was at the beach throwing his stick into the water for him to chase and retrieve. Well, he got caught in a tiny rip and started being swept out to sea and just as I was wondering whether or not to go and rescue him a large wave (for Mac's size) brought him in with head held high paddling furiously. And last night, sometime in the wee hours of darkest night, probably 2:30 AM, Mac came into my bedroom to announce that there was a possum crawling on the roof: "Grrrrr, grrrrr". Exactly what I wanted to hear. The biggest problem, though, was having someone at your side all day trying to get you to play. "Hey, let's go for a walk.", "Here's a stick to throw.", "What's hiding in this hole?", "Are you still working?" Well, all the above could have been a problem if my heart hadn't been wearing such a big smile all the while. I can't begin to express what pure joy these past three days have been with Mac being here. Spent the day hand digging another trench to lay more water pipe, but found the whole operation more enjoyable simply with Mac as company. My neighbour was correct when he thought Mac might be a problem. Because there will be a big problem with me giving Mac back.

At the Forest Rally this past Saturday ten thousand people walked and carried banners through the streets to voice and display their concern over the continual destruction of the Tasmanian rain forests. At one particular moment in the march, as I looked at the massed crowd curving its way back and further back again into the heart of downtown Hobart, I felt immensely elated and joyful and part of a whole greater than any one person. Being with the masses was a spiritual high. Chanting, walking with a slow, rhythmic cadence, waving placards, beaming smiles and absorbing the positive energy coming off everyone, it was enough to induce an immediate enlightenment. What a buzz. However, there is the saying: "after the enlightenment, the dishes".

By Monday I was shovelling dirt again. The last three days have seen me in the ditches laying water pipes. Over half a kilometre (500 yards) of pipe. My legs beg to sit down. My back would love a massage. This is "the dishes" aspect of life. In the end, though, there doesn't seem to be too much of a difference between Saturday and today, because this afternoon, as I looked at the twin pipes (one for irrigation, one for drinking) curving their way along the ditch, I felt immensely elated and joyful and part of a whole greater than any one person. These pipes represent both the drinking water for all the many guests who will visit Windgrove over the coming years and the dam water for the small orchard and garden where apples, tomatoes, spinach, squash, blueberries and other beings will come to life and flourish. Such nourishment. As an aside to the Forest Rally, let me say how proud I felt that in this tiny state of Tasmania such an enormous gathering could take place to protect the trees. Would this have happened in America? I doubt it. In Europe or anywhere else? I doubt it. In every place other than Tasmania, the environment is off the agenda. Only here will people still take the time to walk the streets to keep the environment politicised. May peace prevail on earth. May the forests be saved. May clean water be freely available to all.

Some days there is little joy. I woke up this morning knowing that the only way through the next twenty four hours was to grit my teeth, take a deep breath and push myself out of bed with a steely determination to get the job done. It was not going to be easy as many distractions lay in wait; have lain in wait the previous nine months and been successful in seducing me away from the task at hand. Like this morning, for instance: blue skies, calm wind, wood begging to be carved, birds asking that their song be heard and the ground pleading to be massaged by my feet. But the hour of reckoning was approaching. The knocking; the ever incessant knocking on the door was getting louder and louder. The tax man cometh. And today, I had to give myself over to the arduous task of preparing last year's tax.

My dad was an accountant. And every year he would wait until the last possible day to file our family's income tax. Like father, like son. I, also, avoid doing taxes until the last possible moment as I constantly battle against being forced indoors to organise a box full of bits of paper into meaningful small piles of tax avoidance. Tonight the dining table is the dreaded Tax Table. Where usually one encounters conversation, platters of food, silverware and candles, at this late hour there is just a rising resentment to an Australian government that takes half a billion dollars in tax money to purchase 59 "used" eleven year old Abrams tanks from the US military. Will these tanks be used to round up aborigines in the central desert? Or blast away at the half starved refugee boat people that try to come ashore seeking freedom from the countries they have fled? Where our my guests to fill the vacant chairs and offer me cheer? Is there no one to tell me that the tanks are a mistake and that actually $500,000,000 will be spent on providing clean water to all the refugee camps in the world? Is there anyone out there who can hear me screaming?

Captured in this morning's dawn light, three she-oaks stand glowing. The keen eye will discern that two of the she-oaks are coloured with a dusting of orange, while the one on the left is a bright green. Allocasuarina verticillata, the latin for the type of she-oak that grows around Windgrove on its nutrient poor rocky hillsides, has both a male and female tree with the male flowering in long drooping golden-orange spikes this time of year. The air borne pollen then travels over to the female tree and pollinates a tiny red flower resulting in a cone just smaller than the average walnut. It interests me that the female of this particular species gets the nuts.

Finally, the first tender shoots of grass are poking through the top soil. The past three weeks have been arduous, yet fulfilling, and the placement and landscaping of all the guardian rocks at the entrance to the house is now complete. This could not have been done without the help of my "unexpected guest", Daniel, who only left two days ago after spending three weeks here. With all the moving of stones and soil, Daniel with his younger body came through okay; I needed to go into Hobart last week to have my extremely sore legs massaged in order to continue working. And yesterday, Windgrove was gifted with a Peace Pole from The Byakko Shinko Kai, an international organisation (based in Japan) dedicated to world peace and raising the consciousness of everyone and every living being on earth. Its activities are rooted in the universal prayer for world peace "May Peace Prevail on Earth" as seen in English and kanji on four sides of the pole. Especially interesting to me are their Mandalas and their affirmations of gratitude to Nature where people are encouraged to express daily their deep appreciation to the earth, the oceans, the mountains, the air, rocks, animals, plants, and everything else in nature. More can be found on their web site: http://www.byakko.or.jp/en/ Now, if I can only find some way of keeping the wallabies from eating all the new grass before it has time to establish itself.