The light gets in

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Leonard Cohen lyrics say “there is a crack in everything – that’s how the light gets in”. Well these words are some of the most profound that I have heard and I temper that by saying there has to be better formed words, better meanings found and, much more profound things said.

But for me this has a double meaning and I find it encouraging as well as levelling.

Cohen seems to be saying that, as things go bad and look like overwhelming us, something brighter shows itself fleetingly and gives us hope to go on.

The other, more compelling meaning for me personally, is that built into all things is a dark side and a crack. This is how we measure the beauty of the light side and the strength of the complete.

All things are perfect in their non-perfect state. Everything is complete only when we realize meaning is in the way we view things and is defined by our desire to see what we want.

“There is a crack in everything” doesn’t simply look for fault in all things but moreover expresses the humility of the state. Warts and all, we are all perfect in our own way and according to the route we have taken in life. Each road taken throughout our life defines ourselves today. Some roads by choice, some by fate and in some cases by force. But we represent today all of these things and each part that is beauty also has a crack.

Leonard Cohen’s words will always make me feel strong in the knowledge that if I look for the light, I will find it and that perfection is in the way I choose to look at something. Maybe the exception to this rule would be spiders and snakes of which we have plenty down-under.

There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.

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Anyone for tennis

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Beautiful Melbourne is in the grip of a fabulous game of 5 day cricket against England and preparing for not only New Years Eve, but tennis.

The Australian Open begins in about 2 weeks and I personally cannot wait.

This is the coming together of 6-700 thousand people attending and millions around the world viewing, a wonderful event.

And then there is a bevy of support acts that back up the tennis, such as the great Leonard Cohen and a multitude of visual and performing art.

Being here amongst the people is such a great feeling, knowing that there is goodwill and fun in abundance.

We often have international tennis stars shopping in the same stores as ourselves and we are reminded of how each of us is basically the same. We all seek to be friendly and be loved.

To all the tennis fans out there, whilst enjoying a New Year tipple spare a passing thought for some of our travelling internationals as they chase their dream. For as they chase their dream they bring so much pleasure and fun to many other lives. They are merely fellow travellers on a journey we know not where.

Love – 15

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The Back Door To Everywhere

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The house was hardly that at all; indeed it was tiny and crowded, and alive.
The kitchen, warmed by a wood stove that heated the water and the kettle; was small.. and clean, with a back door to everywhere.
It was where everything happened. Everybody was there, and wasn’t there; coming and going, bartering their time with leaving and coming back.
It was place of lively laughter and argument. With a Mother and Father larger than life.The kitchen was always Mother and Father and then the Others.

The Others were siblings in truth,but we were just friends doing lots of caring little. All using the kitchen for a purpose. All traversing it’s facilities, and all falling into the mire of warmth it offered.

Off the kitchen was the bathroom.
We knew it as the dairy because that is what really happened there.
Keeping clean was not important, getting cream and butter was.
Churning the butter was for the Others. It took strength and tall, something that was only a quality of the Others and not yet available.
You stepped down to the dairy, and this was exciting.
Down two steps.
You always knew you were going somewhere when you went to the dairy.
It felt quiet and sacred, and smelled musty and sweet; like a cave.
We bathed there, one after the other. Because it was important.
Sometimes two at once, but always in order of age. Others first, and always with the same bath water.
It felt supremely refreshing to get a kettle of hot water, poured into the bath, courtesy of the hot stove.
As the youngest, it was a privilege from time to time, to get first bath.
This depended on the injuries of the day and how much important work was got through by small Others staying clear of the back paddock enterprise area.
Small Others were allowed in the back paddock, it was part of Everywhere; but the creek was out of bounds. That was for later.

The back door of the kitchen that led to everywhere, was a fly wire door.
Made from lightweight timber, it was resilient to the point that it could have been iron.
It withstood the comings and goings, the wind, all kinds of insects including dive-bomber mozzies.
More importantly, it separated us from Everywhere when we needed it.

Through the back door to everywhere, was the laundry.
But more interesting and of far more significance, the path around the laundry where 3-wheelers could throttle up.
The laundry was a mysterious place. Mother knew it well and created lots of interest for the Others while moving clothes from one tub to another, much better tub. The Others understood this mysterious world.

Throttling-up the path for the first time, past the laundry and the hollyhocks, around the lavender bushes and their bees.
This was a new world.
One that wasn’t there before.
A whole new sense of place.
Where was it before? Where did it come from?

Hollyhocks always bothered pathways.
Tall people with flowers all over them.
The really tall people were the sunflowers.
Sunflowers never seemed unhappy, but sometimes they just turned away after dinner.
Lavender bushes with their bees always caused concern, and had to be talked to so they kept out of the way of important 3-wheel exploration.

The kitchen had another door.
Passed the green and cream stove with the kettle. This door led to the rest of the house.
The bedrooms.
Just the bedrooms. There was no lounge room, that was the kitchen.

There was three bedrooms.
One on the left and two on the right- smaller ones.

Mother and Father occupied the big room with a small Other.
Three Others slept in the front bedroom, and two small Others in the small bedroom.

In the bedroom with the big Others, was an earthen floor. Just earth packed down hard and smooth.
It had the smell that was in the dairy.
With a wet finger, you could paint one of the Others.
Playing trucks with the biggest loader in the world was best played in this room.
It was the best room in the go to sleep part of the house.

In the big bedroom where Mother and Father slept with the small Other, was a boarded floor.
We were not to go into this room because it was important.
Mother and Father must have realised that the snake and the very thin crocodile that lived in the hole of the floorboard, could be dangerous to Others.

Between the bedrooms was a hallway that led to the front door.
The front door led to nowhere and both big and small Others were often told to find it.
Being told to go “nowhere near the front door” proved to be a trick because there was only a small veranda and a gate to the outside road.

Bristlehound 2013

Rambling on the thought of another Christmas here already. Enjoy everyone.

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I shall not leave

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There is hope with change
And pain
But I shall not leave

With peace come quiet
Deep and silent

The land may dry
The trees all gone
But I shall not leave

Seas are rough with winds
Clouds envelope the earth
But I shall not leave

Bristlehound 2013

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