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Showing posts from November, 2013

Help On Wisdom's Wings fly!

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Hi folks

Here's a flier with information for bookshops and libraries who might be interested in stocking a new collection of poetry by an Australian poet.

Please feel free to forward, print, share, send, and help to get On Wisdom's Wings on bookshelves everywhere.

Thank you!


of Christ's wholehearted leading of self, of all.

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Today is Christ the King, or Reign of Christ, Sunday in the Christian tradition. The final Sunday in the Christian calendar, before we begin a new year with the season of Advent next week.

As I reflected on Christ as king, I had in mind the words of a training course facilitator and of a researcher/storyteller. Their words helped me to explore the story and the theme with my congregation at Belair.

a happy tale of transformation

Can people change?

Perhaps the essential core of who we most deeply and truly are remains somehow the same. We do have a remarkable capacity to grow, to learn from life's experiences and transform, sometimes slowly and gently, sometimes rapidly and with disruptive force. 


One day recently, after I had finished and handed in my honours thesis, I was feeling flat, the end-of-a-big-project blues. A cold was threatening, exhaustion taking over, motivation flagging.

In the past, I would have wallowed in such feelings, taken the opportunity for rest, doing nothing, withdrawing from the world.


While I was in the core phase of formation, after stressful periods of study and self exploration, I crashed. Twice.
The disruptive force of the process of formation for ordination invited me to change: to change my attitudes and ideas, to deepen well of knowledge, building my skills and resources.
That deep well of knowledge includes knowledge of myself that I gained and began to understand during…

of an artist with her hand out for help

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This afternoon I added a new page to my blog. Then I went out for a walk, and part way through began to feel jittery about the new page, and thought I'd take it down when I got home. Now I'm not so sure.

Thinking about it some more as I ambled along by the creek, I wondered what was making me so nervous about the new page, which invites readers to offer support to the ministry of sarah tells stories.

Am I afraid no one will respond? Sometimes it does feel as though no-one reads the words I write here, no-one caring what I write or that I write, or if I never wrote again ... so if there's no-one to read these words, there would be no one to click 'donate'.

I suppose I might be disappointed ... but actually, on consideration, I might be more relieved. And that is intriguing: that I might be more nervous about people responding to my call for help, than not.

It is not that I don't believe in sarah tells stories - on the contrary, I continue to make considerable sa…

looking back on a full, rich year

This week, I managed to take two - count them TWO - days off, after a long season of not very many whole days off. Actually, a year of it. Not surprisingly, I am feeling quite tired, although there is one more busy season to go before a prolonged break for deep rest and recuperating energy in January.

When anyone asks me how I am, they receive an honest reply, 'exhausted.' To which I add, with a generous amount of gratitude, 'It's been a big year for me.' By 'big', I mean that there have been a number of breakthrough accomplishments this year. These have been immensely satisfying and affirming - they have also taken a lot of hard work, cognitive, physical and emotional energy. With two or three of the highs coming one immediately after another earlier in the year, followed by a very long season of hard slog, an intense period of creativity and two 'highs' back to back, there has been little time for reflection, transition from one thing to the next,…

Workshops to enrich and equip healthy communities

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Get in early - opportunities are limited! 



body count

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(story of the art installation pictured above can be found here)
listen here

bodies carved in grains
of sand on France's northern
beaches
             stand
                      in memory
for other beaches painted red –
fields and streets and trenches,
rivers and homes and towers –
              humans
fighting humans forgetting
we are human together

nine thousand silhouettes
tell the story of our regret
at our forgetting –
it's a story we keep repeating
but do not seem to learn from
as war rages on in city streets,
            on desert sands
counting the lives, the deaths,
like counting grains of sand

when will it stop?
why can't we stop?
how do we stop on this day
of remembering, silent one
minute
            only
                    but do not stop
the combat, the killing, the fear?

                     hear the cry
for peace, from God, the earth,
our selves
                     heed the cry
for peace, lay down your guns
                       stop
                    …