Our world has changed

 Everything is different 

2919 was my last entry and that was in the before.

Before lockdowns and masks and isolation.

Before the world literally came to a standstill. 

We’ve lost millions of people in cruel ways. 

We’ve seen the worst global responses 

But the best science ever.

And we are persisting. 

But we’re tired. 

Translation

Failure. Distinguishing what’s holding us back from what we want, and trying to  find the source of our problems are things I just can’t seem to grasp. Everything just seems too big and complicated and too much work and time to fathom on where to start.

I tell myself.
Be grateful, be mindful, be nice, be polite, be thankful, work it out, do the right thing. Make good choices, don’t upset anyone, be understanding, stand up for yourself, know yourself, know others.

I tell myself to be these things.
Be organised, but be messy. listen up, but speak up. Be strong, but be vulnerable, Allow sadness, but be happy. Be perfect, but be different. Solve it, but let it go. Move on, but hold on. Pay attention, but be flexible. Concentrate, but be imaginative.

Talk bullshit, be authentic.
Find yourself, reinvent yourself.
Be selfless, love yourself.
Do anything, do nothing.
Take time, keep busy.
Plan ahead, be spontaneous.
Prepare yourself, go with the flow.

Conclusion.

Accept the impossibility to be everything and be all that you are.

What wakes you.

I’m watching the moon through the window above our bed. It’s a half moon with a hazy ring and the wispy clouds are slowly passing it by. I’m drawn to it, and although I feel the need to go back to sleep, I resign myself to my sudden awakening. ...Never knowing what pulls me from my sleep so abruptly, and so I search for reasoning  amongst the sounds around me. The roosters are crowing, birds are beginning to tweet and the dog is randomly barking, the air is still and heavy, and I see car lights flicking by. The early morning rubbish truck slows and crashes our waste in with the rest. I get up to go to the toilet and wander through the house caching glimpses of the dim moonlight outside. I’m compelled to write in my head so I go back to bed. Unsettling things are bothering me, and I’ll have to untangle them to let them go. So I go through them in my head one by one and and release them to be resolved in due course. Well I try. It’s gone quite now. No rooster, no cars, no dog barking, no birds, no nothing, just the solid night coating us with it’s darkness. Alarms will be alerting us to the days beginning soon. Buses to catch, animals to feed, jobs to do, bills to pay, things to plan and life to be lived. I turn back over to look at my moon and she’s gone, a tiny star sits in her place. Everything keeps moving, the earth turns anyway, and nothing stands still for you. So we move along too. 

SPEAKING OUT.

I Just have to say that women speaking out about past sexual abuse from their childhood/youth/womanhood is excruciatingly painful and traumatic. The only reason one would chose to expose the truth after some time is that you have come to the point where you can’t keep it to your self anymore, and you need that overdue fucking accountability.

Personally, I have been sexually harassed in my primary school years, and my secondary school years, physically and verbally. The amount of times I have been groped, leered at, whistled at, inappropriately spoken at is incomprehensible.. and my voice in speaking up, was drowned in the confusion and shame that you are made to feel. But, I tell you what, I don’t have any shame now. I’m just fucking mad.

I’m angry at every asshole that treated me and my body as a thing to sum up, to pick at or judge me on. I’m angry at the sexual harassment I endured in my young high school years, in the hallways between classes, where I was targeted and made to feel so ashamed, as if walking alone was my fault. Fuck you all.

So, If lm making people squirm, too fucking bad, you stole so much from me. And you new it was wrong, you were self entitled shits intimidating your way through life, and the world as far as I see it, just allows it. When it really really matters, these self indulgent pussy grabbers become presidents. What a fuck up.

So, for anyone trying to belittle women in coming forward in speaking out against an injustice that has touched her body, at anytime throughout her life, I say fuck you. #fuckyou #metoo

Peaceful

It's just so peaceful over here.

There’s no scrolling or being sidetracked by images and information.... No pressure, no exposure. I feel like I could once again write. No one visits here anymore and I could possibly explore my thoughts in this space again. Maybe.

What is our need to convert our thoughts into words and how is that so important to the expanding growth and knowledge to know ourselves? We strive to understand our connectivity to each other and how that one thing is the sinew that binds us all. To keep it strong and expandable is key to existing in a state of healthy awareness. Being attached yet independent and resilient are all descriptions of what we see as integral to human health. But the balance of this is a complicated and pressing expectation in this current social landscape.

And much of the responsibility of this expectation relies in the raising of children. The parent is to take on this whole task with enormous amounts of critical observation. We are the caretakers of these growing humans and are required to manage their exposure and social online balance with immense and conflicting information at our very fingertips. We are overloaded with options and decisions within this negative and doomed moment in our existence, we are expected to instinctively know and immediately have the correct response to our children’s actions.

But we are so swamped trying to navigate through this mindful movement of parenting with our heightened alertness in everything appropriate.

Which is humanely impossible to fucking do.

Either we're trying, or we're giving up.

If your child has an issue, anxiety, bad behaviour. It's how is that child being parented? What are the parents doing? We all do it, we all judge and compare. And to some extent it's true. We are partly how we were raised. But these days the analytical process that takes place is debilitating.

Maybe I am sensitive to it as both my own parents are councillors/Therapists and so the degree of pressure to raise well balanced kids is felt intensely. Too much insight.

But then there are the good days. Where you actually feel a little smug cause the kids are happy and you sit back and you think yep, we’ve got this. We’re playing scrabble by the fire and everyone is content and there’s no technology. 

But then the kids want to practice spelling or order there scholastic books, or whatever the hell... and these things are not on fucking paper, these involve apps or internet and we are back to square one, because as adults we find it hard to stick to the one thing we hopped on our phone for,  so how the fuck do we teach our kids this. Did you know that there is no ethical online use which allows are to focus on one thing, everything is based around keeping us on the device. EVEYTHING.

I’m really having quite the debrief session here! 

Anyways feeling a little little lighter. Cheers.

Being here.

It is always a point of discussion in my head to decide on what the first word of a blog entry should be. Like it is the most important and enticing part of the post itself. When its not important at all really. In fact it's been a very long time since I have had that discussion as my time using this medium to write shit has been few and far between. Over a year actually.

So I maybe a little ordinary in my delivery. But somehow I feel superior and mature since my last writings, as if I have grown and become more wiser and intelligent. Not true of course, I have likely become more bitter and cynical, somehow mistaking that for insightful integrity and wisdom. Although in my defence some really strange shit has happened globally in the past year that has made me contemplate the sanity of all people. You just could not for see the things that have occurred, except if you were the writer for the Simpsons. Because man that show was spot on in it's portrayal of the worlds crazy demise.

I'm wondering though if blogging had a hand in killing humanity. Just too many opinions and thoughts piling up in the world, confusing the fuck out of the simple things. Ahhhh simplicity, the long lost lover for us all.

The Twittering, Face-booking and Instagramming, the status updates and the what's on your mind Rebekah... All prompting us to join in with fleeting contributions of sharing our everyday moments. Which really, mostly, should be left in the dark spaces of our thoughts to flitter away and disintegrate with the unknown exploding stars in the universe.

Oh and the comments. The fucking comments, they are the most trivial pointless time wasting despicable aspects of social conversations on-line. Each person believing their comment can change the masses opinions and really get their message across. All of us trying to be heard in a mass of squirming outrage on that particular issue .. where it will be a distant memory by the next day. A shameless fantasy world of our egotistical self that we sprout all over the net without accountability, respect and authenticity. And then the Trolls. Actual people, not trolls at all. Real life people that are amongst us everyday that spend their time invested in this damaging, transparent display of baiting, whilst they believe it is their right to terrorise others. All behind the mask of an elusion of what they think their life is, when whats left is a very sick human.

So maybe blogging was the beginning of the end. As the mutations grew and took hold of the quick click social media that stole the charm of blogging and turned it into the frenzy of look here, see me... inviting the shiny sparkly in with the dark seedy instant scrolling and sharing of information that has swallowed our intimacy and sensibility.

When I used to blog regularly I would take up to two days to think out a blog post and then draft it, re-write it, re-read it and then add thoughtful story photos to enhance the words and the feelings I was trying to convey. To be fucking mindful about what I put into this world.

But at the same time there was this very small part of me that tugged at the base of my top, like... are you sure this is good, are you sure writing some of your most in depth personal thoughts is ok to do on the net... where will it end. The question was also the dilemma to make it a business or do it for yourself. The struggle between taking it to which point and what purpose. I don't read blogs anymore, apart from one. I'll never stop reading hers, but she too struggles with life, trauma and where that fits into the world. So her wonderful words are rare now too.

Sometimes I just wonder at who's mowing the old peoples lawns, whose chopping wood for their little fires and cleaning their gutters. If all of our time is spent checking Instagram and Facebook and scrolling and searching for things on the Internet. Who's visiting the elders that probably sit at their own computers not really understanding most of this cyberspace with aloneness in their hearts and waiting for humans to visit and just drink tea.

Not knowing what the future will be is ok, feeling as though the future is doomed is not ok. Most of the time I believe in the good, but then there are other days...

Time

I currently have 38 minutes before  I need to step into action for the day. Is this enough time to bang out a blog post of coherent structure? Lets see.

I just don't know where to start. So much stuff! Oh man this world, its just too much. Its like a circus of egos running around with insane ridiculousness and then the world listens, I mean actually takes this shit seriously and like feeds it... with like Proton pills. Except we don't feed it to Roger we feed them to gangster Noodles Romanoff  and his evil organisation. Yeah ok, not making much sense and I have only 12 minutes to wrap this post up. Time is not my friend anymore.

Speak soon.

Hi I'm Rex,

I once was a blogger that figured stuff out by writting about it here on this blog. Some how I ran out of puff. I desperately want my puff back. Well anyway here I am attempting to reclaim my unfurling thoughts once again in this tiny crevice of the Internet. I thought pirates may have absconded with my blog name by now and turned this into some porno site. But it's still here. Yay. Which is forcing me to take it as a sign to crawl out of my cave and brave the light.


Heres a photo of a our new metal staircase Wayne made for our house extentions. Swisho.


.

Cheers Rex.

Memory recall.

Trigger me. C'mon have a go.

Cover me like violent snow.

Ice my heart with frosted visions.

Ignite my redundant memory.

Permit the rage of pain and fire.

Burn the haze and defrost the truth.

I can take it now. I'm stuck in no mire.

Let me see it. Let me feel it.

Don't give me halves an quarters.

I'm the earths innocent daughter.

Born to trust the arms that held me.

But slaughtered by premature exposure.

My mind shut off.

Skipping over all the land-mines to exist in wonderland.

Lost to the majestic birds in that make believe land.

But I cant live there anymore.

I need a truth that will set me straight.

Hit me with that recall, anytime, anyplace.

A way to reach out.

The time is looping so fast now, can't seem to slow it. 

Day in day out, the sameness is throbbing through the house hold. Yet so many changes have transpired in this past year amongst our standard routines.  I see my reflection, and its clear how fast my time is moving and I don't know where to cast my eyes. I see our bubble, a life of absolute privilege. Do we even do it justice. Do we do all we can to share our bubble of privileged air? Or do we hold it close and guard it, scared that it will drift away on a care free breeze or be suddenly popped by unforeseen barbs? Are we just as selfish as all that we hate, or are we just preachers for all that we love? 

So I read the news and all I see are dead bodies being found or dead bodies gone missing or children charged with murder or billions worth of drugs being discovered. I see our leaders being mediocre just like me. Why read the news I say to myself. Just because its not happening to me it doesn't mean I shouldn't be aware, and then with this knowledge what should I do, and what could I do… What action should I take. Should I write about it? making it art with my words of storytelling, is that even fair? 

And so I sit in front of this screen so detached from much of the world. Deciding that the words I write will bring me to action. Somehow in someway. 

It's a way to reach out. 

Paint me whole

I saw the crevice in the mountain. The burnt trees and scorched rocks, shaded in charcoal and earthly reds. Shadows casting across the divide that inexplicably tear at my heart.

My soft ancient heart.

Wanting to jusitfy it all in paint and pencil. To covey the beauty and enable others to see what I see. To converse with mediums of basic creation.

Close my eyes and share the tragedy.

Tell a story of truth encrusted in my bones and skin. As the angry little fire still flickers. Forever wanting to release myself to the soaring of wings through an open and brilliant sky.

Please paint me whole.

a worthy creation

What does that even mean? What makes a thing be of worth?

I'm currently eating dried Pear pieces that have just come out of the dehydrator and pondering my lack of dedication to this blog.

I found a video a while ago and posted it. Today I'm going to post it again, cause I feel like it.

If earth walked into a shop.

How you going Earth? Are you all good?

You ok?

Do you need some help? Just sing out if I can help you with anything?

Oh you just looking….  No worries.

Nice bit of rain we just had. Need some more though. Really need that moisture to soak in. Do you think you could help us out with that? Because the weather seems a bit all over the place dude. I know your busy just trying to keep the air clean so us humans can at least breathe. And I know… we just keep on fucking it up and polluting the shit out of everything. Sucking our resources dry. We're really very stupid and don't seem to understand that we are annihilating ourselves.

Do you think we could stop turning on each other one day? Do you believe in that? Is that even possible?

I'm just not sure anymore. Once I did believe in us.

But, now everything seems a bit out of control. Like we are really losing the plot. I mean, literally losing our place. Destroying our own habitat. And completely crushing humanity.

Makes me really sad. It's hard to find the sense somedays.

Oh, ok, no worries, just browsing, sorry didn't mean to get all sentimental and deep… yep you too, have a nice day, thanks.  

Document my life?

I still don't get it. The need to keep this space as an attempt to share my voice.
It seems ridiculous to continue but unthinkable to cease. So if I'm going to be here slogging out my thoughts from time to time, I resolve to rebuild it into a worthy creation, and a bit of a fresh start.

There are many things in ones life - A journey that is our own - Yet completely interwoven with others.

________________________

Be truthful to yourself.
Making you vulnerable to emotions.

Do things that teach you about the human spirit.
By opening your heart wide and loving hard. So hard.

If your in it.
Be completely in it.

Shed your skins.
Revealing who you are.

Free yourself from your preconceived ideas.
Then your children will be free.

Then you will be free.
__________________________

                                                Happy starfish wishing for 2015.

Shit it's october!

I had plans to post more in september. But that came and went and now it is October!

Anyway, we keep finding bird nests around the place. They present themselves to me one way or another. So I don't know if the universe is telling me something.. a sign maybe. Or, we are just finding bird nests around the place. Who knows. But they are very pretty and amazing little art pieces.

See!

This one is a swallows nest under the shed roof. And when I hopped up on chair and stuck my phone over it to take a snap to see in, I was delighted to see these speckled little eggs.

The one is made from Emu feathers, wool, horse poo, wattle twigs and blossoms. It blew down from one of the faraway trees intact and unused. But so spectacular!

So even though I missed september I found bird nests. 

Thats gotta count for something.

Seeya.