Blatant Copy But Shit it says it all yes?

All it took was the pretty brutally honest resignation that this is my life, this is my one chance, and the quality of it is up to me. No one else to blame, spit at, or get angry at. No, I’m not responsible for everything that happens and will happen to me, but I am responsible for how I respond to it and how I let it effect me. I just made the choice to look at everything with light.

I take what frustrates or saddens me (working at a job that’s uninspiring, being far away from the ones I love, numbly following traditional education) and I use that as fuel to make change. I can make plenty of excuses to not pursue the life I want, and I can make things a lot more conventional by following the expected norm, but that means drifting far from the life I’ve lived so far and one I hope to never stray from. A life that’s explosive, sensational, challenging, wising, and flooded with light. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to settle for anything less than extraordinary with my one time to be on this planet.

And in the meantime, when I am at the job that’s uninspiring or am away from ones I love or am going about the mindless motions, I let myself fall in love with the fact that I’m simply existing. What the fuck, right?! We are breathing! There are SUNSETS! FLOWERS THAT BLOSSOM! GLACIERS! POETRY AND MUSIC! PUPPIES BEING ADOPTED! PEANUT BUTTER AND CHOCOLATE! There is so much good, there is so much that is really a miracle to exist at all (fruit growing on trees, for example — don’t even get me started on oranges, they’re pre-sliced by nature!), and this: there is only up. I think of all the people I’m going to meet, all the places I’m going to go, and how goddamn thankful I am to have done all that I’ve done so far. Every day is another step toward living a life I’m in love with; even the sadness, pain, and anger that inevitably comes. Everything comes with a lesson if you let it, and is just another chapter in your book. Just be patient, be kind, and mostly, remember that there are no right or wrong choices — there is only choice. But mostly, I trust that all is unfolding exactly as it should. Doors open when you’re ready, people come into your life when you’re ready, and stories happen to you when you’re ready. And through it all, through everything, never stop reminding yourself to pause and take a look around you.

I’m here. You’re here.  I’m glad we exist. 

Where to Camp?

“Let’s ask the waiter, he looks like he’s from around here”

“How’s that? He looks fucking normal, is that from around here”?

 “You know, he looks like he would know stuff”.

“Stuff? Fuck me, we’re looking for a camping spot not a Brownie recipe”.

 It turned out the waiter from around here did know.

 He knew of a great place

Brindle

Every summer when I was a child our family had a summer holiday, we would pack up the car and drive great distances to visit relatives or explore new parts of the country.

My lasting and fondest memory is the times we spent in the Bay of Plenty area, my mother’s family live in many of the small towns dotted around this wonderful part of New Zealand.

The country side has nothing to do with my liking of this time; it is the dogs that lived there. Most of the homes we visited or stayed at where those of hunters. With hunting comes a collection of dogs.

I would be excited as we neared certain homes and could hardly wait for the greetings and questions to stop. With large extended families it is easy to remain in the back ground as a child and melt away, not long after arrival I would find myself at the kennels patting and playing with a team of pig dogs all vying for my attention. I think this is where my love of brindle coloured dogs comes from; oddly enough I have never owned one of that colour but find myself drawn to them.

Hunting dogs have presence about them other dogs lack; they have a bearing that says I know what my purpose in life is. These dogs where loved and respected, as an integral part of the food gathering system they shared with their owners. Hunting dogs do what dogs are supposed to do; they live fit healthy full lives.

 

Aware of the small things

In a word that just appears to be getting faster with every moment, where people go from home to work, to the gym, to the TV and .....
This occupies time and if you allow it  to you are no longer aware of important things just the jumble that occupies time.
Some people now don't take the time to cook a meal. This is my time to be in the now. Time to think for it removes you from everything else it clears the jumble. I often think how the ingredients I am using got to my house this is worth so much more than a Television or time spent looking at a computer. I now think of this when I make my purchases; what if I buy this will be the impact? and do i want to be a part of it? All this is is being Aware of what I do and what I have become, how I live, what I live from, and how I care for this. Not for one moment do I not understand how lucky I am to be able to live like this. This is a small thing but I'm

 happy that it helps if only in a small way.

Old School

With all the devices we have available to us these days it has occurred to me that sometimes the old way is still the best.

Several of my favorite things in life could be classed as dated. I begin with cutting my own fire wood, who does that these days? In my street I think but can’t be sure but I’m the only one. The lack of smoke in the evening and the proliferation of the ubiquitous heat pump says it all.

Why? I mean why cut your own wood.  Firstly it’s cheaper just effort verses paying for power it’s a no brainer.

The capital expenditure isn't that large when you off set it with the power cost of the winter. I use an axe, tomahawk, chainsaw, and lately I've added a purpose built hand saw. Total cost $1200 I've purposely purchased top of the line tools as they in my experience last longer and preform to a higher standard. Within one and a half winters the expenditure was recaptured and now years later we are saving money every winter.

 Time is the big barrier here but I do not spend more than two hours at a time collecting cutting or stacking my wood. You don’t cut a year’s supply of firewood in one day you have to work at it over a period of time. Take your opportunities when they come.  The satisfaction of a result from you own labour is hard to measure and that’s why I keep coming back to this task it rewards me for my time and effort. 

It gets me out side and keeps me fit, I don’t know about the pollution but I’m not using any fossil fuel to heat my house. The fire box we use is a double burner so it produces less smoke and burns at a slower and higher heat than an open fire.

Our power bill stays the same winter to summer. We have dispensed with any form of power heater and clothes dryer. My drawing on the national grid is constant throughout the year and not putting pressure on the power system during peak times.  

Ride

I sat drinking a large glass of coffee, I got to thinking why do I ride my bike? I thought back over my mornings ride. I had ridden for over four hours. Out to visit a friend and then back home via a old hill road. The road has a reputation of being the steepest road in my district. True it is steep but that is not what draws me to it. The road winds its way up through native bush . Bush that towers above you and falls away into steep sharp gullies. There is no traffic ever on this road so you can hear the stream rumbling its way down hill far below the road.
This morning it was cold and still, mist hung in the valleys encasing the trees giving them an airy appearance with their midsections disappearing into a white void. Water dripped from the branches lit by the sun and splashed onto the road, that in turn goes from dry to wet and back again . I rode in and out of gloomy corners that wont see the sun all day and the frosty chill hit me in the face making my eyes water uncontrollably. Birds sing above me and occasionally they fly startled by my sudden appearance.

This is why I ride my bike, I could have taken my car and halved my time. I would have missed this world that I accessed by my physical effort, Is  it the action of  working hard to enjoy a return? This is some how hard wired into my Psyche,  for as long as I can remember this has been one of the most simple pleasures I know.

Guardian

A wave of sadness washed over me, the old rugby club rooms looked in need of a coat of paint I doubted they even played rugby here any more. Given I cant stand the bloody game it felt odd.

 My father coached the senior team here 44 years ago, it was a sense of great pride for an 11 year old that his dad was the senior coach.

 I have one vivid memory of my dad playing his last game of rugby one day when the team was short a man.
 I stood on the side line glowing I was in charge of dads note book and the half time water bottles, I cant remember if they won or lost, it wasn't important I was trusted with dads note book, I held it in both hands guarding the teams holy grail, I was trusted, I was the guardian.