A friend sent a link for this fellow's artwork and we had to share it with all of you! If you're planning to visit southeastern Australia, this has to be on your list of things to see! - Editors.
About an hour and half's drive from Melbourne, Australia lies the small town of Marysville. With a population of around 650 people, this place is a sub-alpine area noted for its spectacular scenery and old-fashioned timber guesthouses. It is also the wintertime base for the cross-country ski fields of Lake Mountain. While it's in a a very beautiful place, the scenery isn't the only thing that makes Marysville amazing.
An artist named Bruno Torf has created an extraordinary sculpture garden in Marysville. Bruno and his family moved to Australia to fulfill his desire to create a world class sculpture garden and art gallery. He wound up setting his sculptures amongst the tall ash trees in Marysville and opened the garden to visitors.
Bruno has placed his life-sized terracotta figures amongst the ferns and trees. The result is that a visitor can come across many enchanting fantasy creatures that look right at home.
Here's another contribution from Susan Fekety. She gets regular updates from her brother-in-law, Adam who does wildlife rescue in the evenings. (You may remember his owl and squirrel photos published in the April issue.) - Editors.
Adam sent me this photo last night -- plus another one (see below). I think it's cool that he is sending them but funny that he's too shy to tell the stories himself. What a sweetie!
Anyway -- the story on this one is that he flew into a window -- hard -- and tore his crop. I think that's the little bloody bit on his neck. Adam rescued him and took him to the hawk rehabber (a story about these people might be fun - they carry pagers 24/7 in case there is an injured creature to care for and tend to have animals they specialize in). They cleaned out his crop of partially digested food (yecch) sewed it back up, and gave him a chance to recover. Shortly thereafter, this fellow was returned to the wild. Son of a gun, look at those eyes -- amazing! And those claws-- they just scream, "don't mess with me, ya bastard!"
Oh, isn't this guy pathetic! I'll start by saying that he's just fine now. But apparently they had been trying to catch him for weeks before Adam was able to nab him. He has a bad case of mange, which is a parasite that lots of animals get and which is really, really miserable itchy -- untreated animals will just scratch themselves to death. (My sister got mange once when she was on a dog-overpopulation /sterilization expedition in Mexico and she was miserable till the medicine kicked in!) Anyway -- he has it all over his poor little face - I thought he had face cancer or something. But he got a dose of the mange medicine and has been returned to the wild where he had been living before. The people there (who were the ones who called Adam, I guess) will be giving him another dose of medicine soon which was mixed into a ball of peanut butter -- apparently you just put the ball out on the porch or something and he comes to eat it. (For trivia buffs, this is how you give medicines to squirrels, as well. Who knew?) Anyway -- no more itching face, all better. I especially like the lovely crocheted fox bed in this picture...Undoubtedly a kind donation to the Humane Society by a crafty animal-lover.
Thanks for these reports Susan! While it seems like a small thing to change one animal or bird's life, it has repercussions on our collective well being. As our "planetary partners" are kept well, so does the overall ecosystem benefits. As the ecosystem gets well and whole, we get a chance to be well and whole, too! -Editors.
-----------------------
Here is a remarkable contribution from one of our Graduate students who lives in Bath, Maine. Magic really is all around us! - Editors.
So Many Gifts
Removing my glasses, I wipe my eyes to clear my vision. The tears have begun again. There was a time when it was nearly impossible to find the release that comes from crying. Not so, any longer. I have come to know the opposite end of the spectrum. Now when I'm struck in the moment by a full heart, I weep. I suppose, it is because I am aware of all the precious gifts that fill my life. So many in fact, that the most challenging part of this writing is where to begin.
Of late, rainbows have been a special guest in my life. Two of my most recent experiences with them will remain on my gratitude list for a long time to come.
The first appearance occurred on the second morning of a weekend workshop that I was attending. While the presenter had instructed us to pay attention to our dreams that night, a second point that he made also seemed important. He had shared about the spiritual landscape and the rivers we find there. He was talking about a shamanic technique of soul retrieval. He told us that when a soul fragment is found on this side of the river, the return of it goes easy. On the other hand, when one has to cross the river to retrieve a soul one needed to be prepared for a struggle. He also shared that if we have emotional things we would like to release, we can go to a moving body of water and let the water carry it away. I guess this had a particular impact as I live on a river.
That morning, I woke earlier than usual and rose to stand by the window, attempting to recall my dreams. I quickly grabbed hold of two and committed them to memory before my eyes clearly focused on the magnificence of the eastern sky before me. Orange and reds filled my horizon and without thinking about it, I was in my car going to greet the sunrise. I drove across the bridge that crosses the Kennebec River before I realized that I needed to go to the boat landing that was only moments from my home, in the opposite direction in which I was headed. Turning around to return to my side of the river, spirit nudged me to pay attention.
Driving in a southerly direction, the road ahead ended in a wide vertical tower of rainbow! Never in my life had I seen this version of a rainbow! Stunned, I reminded myself I was operating a motor vehicle and made the final turn into the public boat landing. My feet quickly took me to the dock as my eyes looked to the sunrise. Still time before the sun began to crest the horizon, I turned back to see about that rainbow tower.
No longer limited to the view from my windshield, the tower was in fact a whole rainbow, filling the sky from south to north. "I'm east of the rainbow!" I said aloud. Moments passed as I continued to take the beauty in. A thought penetrated my consciousness, "the rainbow before me, the sunrise behind me, the river below me." Turning again, I watched the sunrise with a heart that could do nothing but give thanks for the gift of this brief, but eternal, moment in time. Knowing it was time to return to my home, I greeted crow as it cawed, making its way to the tree top in the north.
Within a little more than a week's time, the "story" would pick up again.
I had the thought, "I haven't had any trouble with my back in a long time. I'm so glad to be done with that!" Can you guess where this is leading? I leaned slightly forward and felt an explosion of pain in my back. I no longer have the tolerance for pain that I once had.
Safe, in the hands of my D.O. who specializes in cranial-sacral treatment, and is herself shamanically trained--a soul retrieval was performed. This was a healing for a very old and very deep wound. This was a major healing, a major milestone, a life changing event. At one point in the treatment I had related the experience of standing on the dock between the sunrise and the rainbow. As I spoke of the beauty, silently I questioned why I was sharing this experience at this moment. It was a complete change of subject. I questioned it deeply enough so as to remember it now, in this retelling, to draw the connection that I would discover on the drive home. Another clear memory is that of thanking the good doctor for being one I could trust so deeply.
Turning off the turnpike, spirit nudged, and I took a different route than usual. I remember the rain, and thinking it will end soon. I began to search the sky, I was looking for a rainbow. Within moments and miles, I discovered one. A conveniently located rest area allowed me to pull in my car and have an unobstructed view of "my rainbow." Filled to my limit, I began to sing. Completely swept up in this moment I had to tell myself to remember to breathe so I could continue to sing. The rainbow now fading, I knew I would stay until it remained no more. I blinked.
When I opened my eyes it had returned but now as a double rainbow! At first, struck by the intense vibrancy of the color and the clarity of the bands, there was a delay before I realized there were two rainbows in place of the original. This was fantastic! At that moment, I recalled a story my older sister shared with me. My grandfather had promised he would send a sign to my sister after his death. She told him, "A rainbow, grandfather, a double rainbow, please." Well, sure enough, she got her double rainbow.
Recalling this memory I began to thank my ancestors, by name. I know their names as I've dedicated the last six months to searching for them. In fact, it was only last February that I was last in this area, traipsing around in the snow, looking for Grandpa Moses' headstone which marked his passing in 1788.
A feeling welled up inside me,"It's there. I know it's there. Right there under the end of the rainbow!" I started the car and drove without a shred of doubt that I'd find the marker. I did however remember to ask for spirit's help. And so, help came. The blank side of the marker faces north and is deeply weathered. But the side to the south, the side that declares that Grandpa Moses once lived, remains unharmed. Again I offer a song of thanksgiving. I reach slightly forward and pick the wild strawberry that grows above his grave. Such sweetness I have never known. Stretched beyond my previous capacity, the tears flow softly down my face.
This story is true. I admit that I if I am at fault for anything it would be that I have omitted a number of fantastic events, which weave in and out of this experience. Another time perhaps. The sole purpose of this telling was to publicly thank all who have supported me along the way. They are too many to name individually, it is my hope that this may inspire others to share in the telling of their gifts from spirit, be they physical or otherwise.
There is a quote..."teachers open the door, but you must enter by your self." I would amend that to to say..."but you must enter from your own place of courage."
I no longer believe I do anything by myself and for that I have Allie and Evie to thank.
Constance Merrill
Wow. Connie asked us not to edit out that last sentence, but we humbly understand that it was actually all of Connie's hard work on herself that has allowed her see the magic! -Editors.
-----------------------
S.J. Barker sent SpiritLiving one of her lovely poems this month. - Editors.
As wings brake,
They spread open and back.
Head lifts up,
Feet drop down.
Brilliant white undersides are exposed,
Contrasting the dark brown upperside,
Colors beautifully sharp and distinct.
And then head lowers,
Bringing the flight into a dive,
For prey.
The beauty of knowing,
What one seeks.
The attentiveness and vision,
For it to be seen.
The action,
To pursue it.
The engagement,
Without knowing if success will be obtained.
Prey caught?
Maybe.
It matters not.
-SJBarker
April 25, 2007
Revised July 2, 2008
-----------------------
Here's something Agnes Rysdyk found as she was clearing out some of her old magazines. Just as scientists have been studying human mitrchondrial DNA to discover our species origins, the same was done for cats. - Editors.
The Truth About Cats
A recent study of the mitrochondrial DNA (mtDNA) of the common house cat found that the felines roaming the streets and sunning themselves in front windows today can all be traced back to just five mother wild cats.
Using mtDNA samples from cats around the globe, scientist from the National Cancer Institute concluded that the five mother cats are all members of the Near Eastern wildcat species originating in the desert of Israel, the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, and Saudi Arabia approximately 10,000 years ago- the same time that we domesticated wheat and barley. Scientist are theorzing that these five particular mother cats were rewarded for keeping rodents away from the grain and were welcomed along with their children into the social realm of humans.
My favorite line from the article was this:
"The cats, who presumably liked their arrangement with humans adapted themselves into the environment, domesticating themselves."
(From the Nov. Dec. 2007 issue of Ancestry magazine)
-----------------------
Finally this month, here's a funny and sweet look at life, cats and parenting! - Editors.
Lessons My Cats Taught Me
I’m not a cat person. I have cats because I have children. My children wanted a pet to play with and my bearded dragon power animal didn't fit the bill for them. So when the opportunity came for free kittens I took it. (Good mommy!)
Since I live in the middle of a city, I naturally thought that the cats would stay indoors. This worked fine for a while, that is, until we moved to a home with a yard. Probably because no creature, except desert bred ones, can resist the feel of soft grass under their feet/paws, outside time was now being desired by my kitties. I was having a very hard time with this. I didn’t want them to run away because my children would be sad and the kitties don’t wear collars with identification on them. I also do not want fleas, or other parasitic bugs they might pick up from other animals. Yet the fight to keep them inside with the "blocking the door game," got to be ridiculous.
I considered doing what my grandmother and aunt had done with their cats. While I was growing up, these women's cats wore collars and a leashes attached to the stoop railing. This seemed like a good compromise, but then there was the issue of being able to get a collar on the cats.
I chose not to declaw them so that if they did get out and into a fight they would have their natural defense and protection. I don’t like to be scratched so I decided not to fight for the collar. Instead, I decided to talk to them about it.
One of my biggest challenges upon my spiritual path is remembering that all creatures are sentient beings and that I can engage with them. In our "discussions", I made it clear that they could be outside as long as they stayed within the fenced back yard. The fence, I thought, offered a nice natural boundary. Watching them explore snow for the first time was very amusing, especially the dainty little pokes at it that Sunrise the petite little girl cat took.
This compromise worked for several months. Then I started noticing they were slipping under the fence to explore the rest of the world. This was not something I agreed to and so I started chasing them back inside.
What a game that was! I gave up after just a few rounds. This giving up/giving in instigated, drum roll please, an "AHA" moment! I realized that I have no control over these beings. They are here of their own free will and because I provide food. If they choose not to be here, there is nothing I can do. Well that’s not true, I can continue to play the chase em back home game, put up blockades around the openings in the fence, attempt to keep them inside--which for outdoor cats, is "always out and only sometimes in."
I have better things to do with my time, so I let them go choosing to trust that if they want to continue being with us, they will return. So far they do, although occasionally they stay out at night. This is because I am unwilling to leave the door open all night, and they don’t always choose to come in when the door is opened for them.
As I watched them slip under the fence one day I realized this is my role as a caregiver. Whether I'm caring for human children or animals my roles is one of stewardship not dictatorship. To try to hold them here in my house or in my yard when they want to be elsewhere only causes unnecessary stress for all of us.
All I can do is provide tools to help them survive and teach them methods for getting along. I choose to let go lovingly and not scold for being gone. This gives them the opportunity to come home willingly and it makes our home a much more pleasant place to be.
The same message ultimately holds true for my children. I cannot control when or where they ultimately choose to go; all I can do is open the door for them when they come back, give them dinner and let them know I love them.
Carney Brewer
Got handy tips, observations, stories and photos that you'd like to share? Send them to us at: editors@spiritliving.org.
