Conjugated Love

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I’m drunk on possibilities. You know, one of those moments when you want to say I love you guys, to the ex who I truly loved, the friends who I love present tense and the people who I will love in the future. Life is so fucking conjugated. And yet so simple.

It’s an old post but the sentiments remain. I don’t post much these days as my life is generally offline and offgrid. I’m breathing in the air of constant change where creativity takes a million forms. As we breathe in and out together I wish for a deeply felt year.

Head in the Sand

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The air is like soup and my brain is a mash of desires that cannot be fulfilled. I am trapped in this room while Australia burns. And the politicians keep denying the cause.

I am suffocating on the stupidity of climate denial. I check the apps again. Extremely Unhealthy air is no longer a surprise. When it slides to Moderate I breathe a shallow sigh of relief. It’s amazing how humans acclimatise, become complacent. Sure we need to adapt, but let’s not just put our heads in the sand and hope it passes … because it’s not going to.

If we can’t change the game players who juggle corporate profits and political power, let’s work on what we can do. Talk with your friends and family and love deeply beyond what you already know. Solutions come from baring our souls and being vulnerable. You might want to plant some seeds in the soil and in the minds of those who haven’t yet thought about it.

I’m ready for action. I’m putting on my face mask and heading out into the smoke.

*If you enjoy my writing and want to read about something different I have another site here: https://wordpress.com/view/wildartwanderer.travel.blog

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The Journey

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I’m on a bus. Denmark has faded into the distance and now I’m passing through wind generator infested fields on the way to Berlin.  You know I care about climate change.  I’ve even vowed not to get on a plane again so that could very bad news for anyone expecting me back soon. I guess there’s always sea travel but I can’t decide what worries me more… pirates or seasickness.  I’ll start by doing laps of the sauna. (I know that doesn’t make sense but they’re great).
News trickles through to the remote corners of the world where I’ve been thigh deep in snow, that Australia has been experiencing a heatwave. When I was in Russia someone told me that Sydney had 48 degrees that day. He wasn’t Russian. In general, they’re not friendly with foreigners, unless one is in a sparse, white-tiled community bathhouse with a crowd of large, naked women. Trust me, it was fabulous. If only I had my sketchbook and charcoal.
Along with breathtaking architecture and cheap hostels that were once palaces,  and some photo opportunities that were golden, the lack of smiles was a constant during my three weeks in post Soviet Russia.
When I arrived in Stockholm,  laughter surprised me and the variety of different backgrounds were striking. What a relief to be amongst other humans who could laugh even when life isn’t perfect. It was still minus 5, the metro crowded and I was a foreigner. Of course I loved Russia but a huge thank you to the Swedes, Norwegians and Danish people for being you. I had a fabulous time and I’m sure I’ll go back for my friend’s wedding in August, assuming I manage the next round of paperwork in France.
I’m making my way back to France slowly.  There’s a whole mini series in my dental tourism escapades that happen before I get there. Hello Budapest.. I don’t require being picked up at the airport or help with a discounted hotel but bus and hostel will be fine to get me to your lovely dental suites. 12 February. Stay tuned.
In the meantime, Berlin with its politics, art, contact improvisation and some lovely friends are less than an hour away. I’m excited! The bus is approaching Frankfurt and it’s time I started looking out the window.
Take care, smile and give hugs. It’s a wonderful gift.
PS I didn’t pose naked in the snow but I did take the photograph.

Stream of Consciousness

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Where does the river go?

She mused on life.

Such ripe beginnings to tempt the mouth,

The belly full with fecund growth.

The soul divided by love and hope.

The divine incarnate, the ebb and flow.

When to stay and where to go.

She wandered along the humid banks,

Immersed in silent gratitude,

The sky white-faced,

The sun wore grey.

Long leaves simply watched,

And she went away.

Sweating Survival Day

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Another year has gone by and still there is no treaty for the indigenous peoples of Australia. So we march again. From the makeshift aboriginal tent embassy, ‘illegally’ planted 44 years ago in front of the former Parliament House, to the present seat of Parliament. I’m sweating, not only because it is a searing Summer day, but because we cross the police line and front the seat of power. It’s nothing new, but this time I’m thinking about the police report required to complete my visa application. Of course this is small fry compared to accounts of aboriginal deaths in custody and the institutionalised racism that the loud speakers aim at the bullet-proof doors. All the same, authority prevails and making waves is a risk. But so is life and upholding ones ethics is worth it.

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