Holy Moments ...

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My 'holy moment' breakfast was almost holy this morning ... 

I have my ground coffee, and my little espresso machine is making me so happy.

I had a bagel, as introduced to me by Kim back when I lived with her and Andy in Farnham, and apricot jam (I can't find peach in NZ), and good butter ... 

I have this little $29nz speaker that improves the sound quality of Jack Savoretti, Coldplay, Paolo Nutini and the rest of my playlist on my laptop.

The kitchen door is open because it's Saturday, and the blokes removing abestos at the school next door are at their homes. 

The sun is intense already, the sky is blue, and I have nothing and nowhere I have to do or be. 

This is where I've been reading in the evenings. Trying not to drink red wine but, you know ... sometimes :-)

Days like these ...

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7.30am, and I roared up to the supermarket. Dad had run out of tomatoes, and he absolutely requires them, on toast, as part of his morning routine.

Mmmm, the supermarket doesn't open until 8am.

I wandered along to the main street cafe I used, pre-coffee machine and sat there a while, reading.

I was the 3rd one in those supermarket doors this morning ... 

I’m listening to Jack's latest song, and really liking it..

The foto: I was talking to Dad, in the lounge, after a rainsoaked Sunday and noticed the sun glistening outside on the flowers. I had to, at least, attempt capturing something of the beauty …

What to Remember When Waking by David Whyte, 2013

In that first hardly noticed moment in which you wake,
coming back to this life from the other
more secret, moveable and frighteningly honest world
where everything began,
there is a small opening into the new day
which closes the moment you begin your plans.

What you can plan is too small for you to live.
What you can live wholeheartedly will make plans enough
for the vitality hidden in your sleep.

To be human is to become visible
while carrying what is hidden as a gift to others.
To remember the other world in this world
is to live in your true inheritance.

You are not a troubled guest on this earth,
you are not an accident amidst other accidents
you were invited from another and greater night
than the one from which you have just emerged.

Now, looking through the slanting light of the morning window
toward the mountain presence of everything that can be
what urgency calls you to your one love?
What shape waits in the seed of you
to grow and spread its branches
against a future sky?

Is it waiting in the fertile sea?
In the trees beyond the house?
In the life you can imagine for yourself?
In the open and lovely white page on the writing desk
?

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Perhaps I have arrived ... finally.

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Sometimes I feel like I've lived so many lives.
And occasionally, they collide, in the most unexpected ways.

On Sunday morning, I was wandering in from the car ... back from the babysitting gig in the city, when I bumped into an old friend from my days spent as an Airforce officer's wife.

There was Bridget, walking out from bringing Communion to my Dad, who can no longer attend church.
It was so good to see her. She had been an officer's wife too. We had long conversations, back then, about our real lives ... before those years we spent living on Base Woodbourne.

These days, she lives just along the road, with her family (she kept the same husband :-) ) and so, we have plans. One day soon, after Christmas and New Year, we shall have some of our long conversations again. 

Meanwhile, I went back out into the garden with my camera tonight ... and remembered that my camera is the other place where Joy hangs out. I felt like I was losing Joy, and I had no idea what to do, since Genova is about 20,000kms from here. I discovered so many photographs, unprocessed, there on the camera card. That last storm in Genova, Ben Ohau with Dave and Jude, and Dad's Garden. 

Perhaps I have finally arrived, here in this life ... I'm taking photographs again, with my camera.
Let's see it.

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