All I need to know about Life

All I need to know about life I learned from my cat.

• Life is hard, then you nap.
• Curiosity never killed anything except maybe a few hours.
• When in doubt, cop an attitude.
• Variety is the spice of life; one day ignore people, the next day annoy them.
• Climb your way to the top ~ that's why the drapes are there.
• Never sleep alone when you can sleep on someone's face.
• Find your place in the sun ~ especially if it happens to be on that nice pile of warm, clean laundry.
• Make your mark in the world, or at least spray each corner.
• When eating out, think nothing of sending your meal back twenty or thirty times.
• if you're not receiviing enough attention, try knocking over several expensive antique lamps.
• Always give generously ~ a small bird or roden left on the bed tells them, "I care."

Hone Tuwhare ... Poet

New Zealand had a wonderful poet, sadly now departed from this earth, whose writings are inspirational.

I never learned of him until recent years. He spent his final years living at the seaside near by New Zealand home. I did meet this poet; a man with wisdom and a wonderful sense of humour.

Many of his works are delightful, most resonate with New Zealanders. The following is short; his use of words carefully considered, and used with greatness.

Wind song and rain by Hone Tuwhare

A poem is

a ripple of words

on water wind huffed

But still water

is a poem winded; a

mirrored distortion

of sky

and mountain

trees; and a drowned

face waiting

for a second wind

(a second coming?)

rain

oblivion

Ripple of words

on water.

What for?

The other day while I had half an ear to the radio a statement leapt across the airwaves sending my thoughts into a whirl. It was a simple enough question.

"What is your purpose in life?"

At first the question flew over my conscience. After all, only half an an ear heard.

Later, in the middle of the night when all was dark and when thoughts come to the forefront of the mind seeking an answer, the question rose again. "What is my purpose in life?"

So different from what is your purpose in life!

Seldom do we consider such a searching question, or at least, seldom do I think along those lines. After all, I am busy, doing ... this or that, often useful things [in my mind at least] or just sitting reading.

Contemplating the purpose of life is rather deep!

Well days later I have come to no conclusion. I have given the question a lot of thought, and somehow consider this question will remain in the front of my mind until I decide what my purpose is in life.

Rather deep don't you think!

Rebirth

Rebirth by Essae Scott

Curling, rolling, the old skin sloughs away
Tender, newly exposed,
Unwrinkled, unweathered, carefully nurtured
Delicately spreading an untested covering
To facing life in the elements
Grows a theory, as yet untried.

Old concepts and ideas are replaced by the new.
Past thoughts thrust into view,
Re-hashed, altered, oft disposed.
The challenge of a magnificent future
Resisted by deeply held fears
Struggling from the darkness of eternal night.

Resisting new growth leads to decay
As thoughts stunted by dark, dismal memories
Struggle to hide from the glorious light of day.
Toadstools, mosses, lichens and rotting debris,
Cast-off twigs and leaves smothering growth
Carpet the stagnant mind.

High in the canopy fat-bellied pigeons sit.
Around the rooftop a friendly fantail flits,
Each caroling a song of sunshine and cheer;
Coaxing, cajoling their musical entreaty
“Join us, join us, cast out your fear,
Enjoy a new life of freedom and reality.”

The Solitary Tree

The Solitary Tree by Neroli Roberts

A solitary tree
floats in a whispering sea of grass.
A shoal of pelicans drift by
along the ocean of the sky.

The tree by day
is a castaway,
by night
a coral form bleached white
by timeless tides of lunar light.

But night or day
in some strange way
it stands enshrined
becalmed and tranquil
in an isolated by
of my mind ...

We went to a garage sale recently and picked up a wonderful illustrated book, The Kimberley, Australia's Unique North-west, by Jocelyn Burt. The text is well written and entices the reader to visit The Kimberley. Each chapter had a poem by Neroli Roberts ... the poems vividly illustrated in words the landscape of The Kimberley. An enchanting book to pick up and read a little here or there, put down, and return to later.

We'all All Be Rooned, Said Hanrahan

We’all All Be Rooned, Said Hanrahan

Taken from an Anthology called “Around The Boree Log:, by John O’Brien, whch was first published in 1921. “John O’Brien” was the pen-name of Patrick Joseph Hartigan [1879 - 1952]. He published only one book of verse, Around The Boree Log, written while he was parish priest of Narrandera, New South Wales.

Thus it is, that about one hundred years ago, somewhere in Outback Australia.

“We’all all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,
In accents most forlorn,
Outside the church, ere Mass began,
One frosty Sunday morn.

The congregation stood about,
Coat collars to the ears,
And talked of stock, and crops, and drought,
As it had done for years.

“It’s lookin’ crook,” said Daniel Croke,
“Bedad, it’s cruke, me lad,
For never since the banks went broke
Has seasons been so bad.”

“It’s dry, all right,” said young O’Neill,
With which astute remark
He squatted down upon his heel
And chewed a piece of bark.

And so around the chorus ran
“It’s keepin’ dry, no doubt.”
“We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan
Before the year is out.

“The crops are done; ye’ll have your work
To save one bag of grain;
From here way out to Back-‘o-Bourke
They’re singing out for rain.

“They’re singing out for rain,” he said,
“And all the tanks are dry.”
The congregation scratched its head,
And gazed around the sky.

“There wont be grass, in any case,
Enough to feed an ass;
“There’s not a blade on Casey’s place
As I came down to Mass.”

“If rain don’t come this month,” said Dan,
And cleared his throat to speak ..
“We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,
“If rain don’t come this week.”


A heavy silence seed to steal
On all at this remark;
And each man squatted on his heel,
And chewed a piece of bark.



“We want an inch of rain, we do.”
O’Neill observed at last;
But Croke “maintained” we wanted two
To put the danger past.

“If we don’t get three inches, man,
Or four to break this drought,
We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,
“Before the year is out.”

In God’s good time down came the rain;
And all the afternoon
On iron roof and window-pane
It drummed a homely tune.

And through the night it pattered still,
And lightsome, glidesome elves
On dripping spout and window-sill
Kept talking to themselves.

It pelted, pelted, all day long,
a-singing at it’s work,
Till every heart took up the song
Way out to Back-o’-Bourke.

And every creek a banker ran,
And dams filled overtop;
“We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,
“If this rain doesn’t stop.”

And stop it did, in God’s good time;
And spring came in to fold
A mantle o’er the hills sublime
Of green and pink and gold.

And days went by on dancing feet;
With harvest-hopes immense,
And happy eyes beheld the wheat
Nid-nodding o’er the fence.

And, oh, the smiles on every face;
As happy lad and lass
Through grass knee-deep, on Casey’s place
Went riding down to Mass.

While round the church in clothes genteel
Discoursed the men of mark,
And each man squatted on his heel,
And chewed a piece of bark.

“There’ll be bush-fires for sure, me man,
There will, without a doubt;
We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanraham,
“Before the year is out.”

Is Your Ego in Bloom?

Some time when you're feeling important,

Some time when your ego's in bloom,

Some time when you take it for granted,

You're the best qualified in the room,

Some time when you feel that your going,

Would leave an unfillable hole,

Just follow this simple instruction,

And see how it humbles your soul.

Take a bucket and fill it with water,

Put your hand in it up to your wrist,

Pull it out and thehole that's remaining

Is the measure of how much you'll be missed.

You may splash all you please when you enter,

You can stir up the water galore,

But stop, and you'll find in a minute,

That it looks quite the same as before.

The moral in this quaint example,

Is ... do just the best you can,

Be proud of yourself, but remember,

There is no indispensable man.