Showing posts from January, 2015

still calling, Australia

Australia Day. Invasion Day. Landing Day. Survival Day.

On 26 January each year, we celebrate our national holiday, but have not yet developed an appropriate fullness to the commemorations. Paul Daley suggests a minute's silence for those who died in the forging of 'Australia' - the thousands of Indigenous folk in particular, swept aside by the might of Empire, and still dying today before their time in prison or from illness and disease they would not know without the Europeans who changed their life and land forever. Many Second Australians died, too, in the harsh Australian landscape: and I wonder, how many lives of people of any descent would have been lived to greater fullness if the new arrivals had listened to the wisdom of those who were in the land first?

We could change the date of our national holiday - and I hope we will, perhaps if we become a republic, or when Indigenous Australians are recognised appropriately in our nation's constitution. A new date for…

unfinished nativity

it seems NiteKirk is a place I meet the muse - another poem emerged at the January NiteKirk on Friday. As I sat reflecting on this unfinished engraving of the visit of the Magi, it seemed that Christmas was not done with me just yet. 

unfinished nativity after ‘The Adoration of the Magi’, Hendrick Goltzius
into the void I pour empty despairing adrift
onto the woman I throw alone content lonely
from the brothers I want joyful together loved
in the light I see remembered courageous

setting the chords for this year's songs

A new year and new semester means establishing a new chord structure and a new rhythm for my weeks.

This semester, Tuesdays are going to be sarah tells stories days - one day a week set aside amidst the primary work of the PhD to ensure that other projects – such as the book about innovation and creativity in church, a new poetry collection, and the storytelling show (in)humanity – continue to progress.

Weekends will be weekends time off, with a bit of story and poetry thrown in, no doubt, and study when deadlines loom.

I am quite intuitive, feeling, perceiving, which means I like to go with how I am feeling in the moment - do I feel like studying, I will study, do I feel like walking, I will walk ... but I have found that setting a structure around which to work allows the work to actually get done. It's a bit like the chord structures around which a jazz musician improvises, and as a person engaged in multiple pursuits in any one season of life, this image has become a very usef…

the pressing question of freedom

I don't know what to make of it all, people shooting people because one made fun of the other in a cartoon.

I don't know what to make of it all, people making fun of others because they are different, because they think they have a right.

What is wrong here? What to write? There are questions pressing for release and so I will post those letters, jumbled up together, giving voice to something not actually quite expressible.

It's rather a vexed issue, this freedom of the press. Anyone within 'the press' will defend this freedom to the hilt. But is this freedom - is any freedom - without limits? At what point does my freedom impinge on your freedom, and become, then, a diminishing of both your freedom and mine?

The question occurs to me in the wake of the violence that was perpetrated against the Paris offices of a satirical magazine. Satire: so its business is poking fun, mockery, provoking thought. They'll ruffle feathers. They'll cause offence. Who will te…