Tag Archive: wonder

This weekend some friends and I did a hike in Kinglake National Park finishing at Mason Falls. The conversation was as wide ranging as our footsteps, as we were washed by rain and the knowing that the world is beautiful… beautiful.

Whole worlds

Whole worlds becoming
At the tips of her fingers
Weaving sticks and stories
Into a landscape of happening
For who, what, why…?
She delights in her creation
And Creation delights in her

Talitha Fraser

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you know more than you think you do

Maria got PR

maria nheu PR

we weep tears
joy and relief together
sweet and salty
the longed for has come
and, for just a moment,
there is nowhere to be
and nothing to do
but be here with You





“I spent the mornings writing letters in answer to advertisements in the paper; in the afternoons I went for walks round the creek.  I was experiencing a sense of freedom and elation that my failure to find work could not subdue. The renewing of my association with the clean world became almost an identification with tree and bird and sun.  The sharpness of my pleasure in rediscovery was sometimes so intense I could have shouted and flung my arms wide or lain with my face against the earth listening to music only the enchanted hear.

Quartz gravel, dry gum-leaves, bleached twigs and pieces of bark were rich with meaning. The floor of the bush was a narrative poem, the bush an evocation.

Shadow and sunlight, reaching limbs of trees, the rustle of grass, shapes and colours and odours, demanded a complete absorption to uncover the heart of their beauty. I felt I had been imprisoned for a lifetime in a dungeon and now, freed, the revelation of a communicating beauty lying confined in all that I was seeing brought with it a frustrating awareness of my inability to release it so that it would surround men and women for ever. There was an anguish in this unattainable desire, and tear, and a sense of deprivation.

I wanted to proclaim my message, if not in books then by talking.

Sometimes I had attempted, when stirred by the sight of a spider orchid, maybe, or the flight of a bird, to take adults on a fanciful journey of the spirit, in search of a truth beyond what the eye was seeing. It demanded of them an emotional response suggestive of children and this they could rarely give. They associated it with immaturity.

Shielded by books and facts and their belief in accepted authorities, they were incapable of becoming participants in wonder, only kindly and critical observers of those experiencing it. The years of development they had left behind were sprinkled with stars – the sharp lights of remembered experiences. The same experiences in later years never created a light.

What was once a magical experience becomes commonplace with repetition and there comes a time in the lives of most people when the eyes and ears fail to register an unadulterated wonder and excitement, but are used as instruments to revive memories that flicker like a match for a moment and die away.  It had all happened before; it would happen again.  But I knew that each moment contained something unknown, something never experienced before, an enchantment only it could provide.”

Sherbrook Forest


I have walked into the woods, off the muddy, many-feet-trodden path.

It is very windy and the susurrous of the trees carries a muted roar with it. I suppose it could bring branches down yet I am not afraid.

I walked to this place as surely as if I had somehow known to come here.

All that is of the world is left behind. There is only me. And You. And the magic in the woods.

Those I used to play in as a child around Erskine College had this feeling also.  As though anything might Happen.

I cried as I walked to the place where I now sit.

The silence speaks to me and I want to hear it. I wish I could always hear it.





Found this in an op shop and am loving it so can only imagine I will have to restrain myself from a public rendering of the entire tome… I’m not apologising for that… I think its too beautiful.


Through our thoughts and our human experiences, we long ago became aware of the strange properties which make the universe so like our flesh:

like the flesh it attracts us by the charm which lies in the mystery of its curves and folds and in the depths of its eyes,

like the flesh, it disintegrates and eludes us when submitted to our analyses or to our fallings off and in the process of its own perdurance;

as with the flesh, it can only be embraced in the endless reaching out to attain what lies beyond the confines of what has been given to us.

All of us, Lord, from the moment we are born feel within us this disturbing mixture of remoteness and nearness; and in our heritage of sorrow and hope, passed down to us through the ages, there is no yearning more desolate than that which makes us weep with vexation and desire as we stand in the midst of the Presence which hovers about us nameless and impalpable and is indwelling in all things.

Now, Lord, through the consecration of the world the luminosity and fragrance which suffuses the universe take on for me the lineaments of a body and a face – in you.  What my mind glimpsed through its hesitant explorations, what my heart craved with so little expectation of fulfillment, you now magnificently unfold for me: the fact that your creatures are not merely linked together in solidarity that none can exist unless all the rest surround it, but that all are so dependent on a single central reality that a true life, borne in common by them all, gives them ultimately their consistence and their unity.

Shatter, my God, through the daring of your revelation the childishly timid outlook that can conceive of nothing greater or more vital in the world than the pitiable perfection of our human organism.