Life on the Edge

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.

Yesterday evening, just past sunset in fading light, I wheeled my red wheelbarrow back home and into the garden shed for the last time. This year's tree planting and repair is finished. My palms are a bit sore from having pushed into the ground 3,000 bamboo stakes (even while wearing padded bicycle gloves). The usual neck and back problems flared up from the constant kneeling and bending over to plant the 520 trees and small shrubs and repair an additional 300 other trees from previous years. But..... what a feeling of righteous goodness! Looking back up the hill one can only see a future forest emerging in thirty to fifty years. Any pain disappears beneath the overwhelming joy of having done something truly worthy. When one kneels before an altar, are there thoughts of sore knees? Surely not. And thanks to Cawley, Jill and Sophie for the days they helped. Talk about feeling blessed. While planting some blackwood trees two days ago near the circle at the top right of the photo, I stood up to have a stretch. Looking down the hill with my arms out wide (like Christ on the cross), and holding them there as in a yoga pose while all the while admiring the view, a wedge tail eagle came by my right side from behind me. The eagle did a slow circle around me about 25 feet in the air and then continued on her way. I never flinched. The suddenness of it wasn't a surprise. I just smiled, kept my arms outstretched and sang the bird's praises. And for an update on a previous blog entry (August 19), my little boat sculpture, Who's On Board?, won first place and $5,000 at the 3rd Tweed Wood Biennial. What especially heartenes me with the win, is that the award acknowledges that art and politics can be a winning combination. Just concentrating on the beauty of the form is only half the prize; the deeper content of how we as a nation treat refugees is the other, more powerful half. More money for more trees.

I was serving up stacks of pancakes this past weekend to a house full of children, dogs and happy parents when it dawned on me that this is the work I do best: being in service. Don't know much about geology. Don't know much trigonometry. But I do know that I love to serve. And wouldn't it be a wonderful world, indeed, if I could continue to do thus.

Aside from being arranged in a similar pattern to the pancakes, the second group of nine objects are not for eating. Instead, these are the block forms that are presently being shaped to create the second Windgrove Peace Mandala. Eight of these will be gifted to people around the world whose peace activism revolves around environmental and social justice. (See archives: 18 January 2003) Not exactly a Noble Peace Prize, but it is one way I can honour and serve those who are dedicating their lives to creating a more sane world. One such person is Bev Reeler who brings rape and torture victims to the healing forests and rivers of Zimbabwe. Her work is hard. It is also important. Her candle of compassion most often burns brightly, but I have also heard of it becoming dimmed by the unrelenting onslaught of government policy towards any opposition to its power base. I wish I could give more.

And me? How am I supported by others? Clare, doing yoga before the pancake breakfast with daughters Kate and Brook in the window seat, wrote the following email to me this morning: "I left Windgrove Sunday with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Thank you so much for opening your home, heart and vision to us. Witnessing you living as you do, consciously, openly, inspires me to deepen my practice, opening to the magic, the mystery, the intangible element of beauty. Opening to grace." "I thank you for your kind attention to Brook and Kate, for it is through experiences of people and place such as you offer, that I believe they will form intentions to live by from their own goodness inside, from their feeling of connection with the mystery, with the forces of heaven and earth."