Inspirational World

Close Encounters of the Dragonfly Kind (aka What Women Want)

2008-01-07T16:11:00.001+11:00

Notes from beneath a granite waterfall at the base of Mt Buffalo...

I’ve spent the last two hours in the company of one very persistent, sexed up dragonfly. He will go to great ends to defend his territory, frequently engaging in aerial combat, often simultaneously with two or more opponents. When given a moments rest, he catches his dragonfly breath at the protruding end of a stick that is mostly submerged, lodged between granite rocks in a cascade of Mt Buffalo’s Eurobin Falls. This vibrant, vital creature will not hesitate to pursue his rivals into the sky, his aerial strength and prowess obviously a favourite with the ladies, as is his choice of prime mating and egg laying location. For in the time that I’ve watched him, I’ve seen fourteen successful matings... no... wait,... make that FIFTEEN! Go you good thing! It’s as if he knows exactly what women want (a strong man with an emerging stick??).

No sooner than a lady lands nearby, admiration and lust in her eyes, dragonfly eyelashes fluttering and dragonfly wings folded back and quivering in anticipation, than her neck is grabbed by his tail, and she is flown to the aforesaid mating branch. Often, en route he must engage in dogfight with his rivals, before finally landing and consummating their brief affair. From there it’s straight underwater with the lass, who climbs submerged down along the length of the stick to lay her eggs in the constant, fresh running water that will be their larvae’s ideal nursery. But no sooner is she below the water’s surface, than he’s back at it again, ready for the next concubine. However, the women, for their part, don’t seem to mind; there being a procession of up to five women laying eggs down the stick whilst mating goes on overhead. Not to worry, for the woman has been satisfied, and will complete her mission in life... once traffic eases. Any trip back to the surface may be in fain, for the film of flowing water at the surface is difficult to penetrate once wings are wet, and the exit path is treacherous. All too often the female ends up carried away by the stream. [Perhaps this explains how I, good sir Warwick have come to rescue two dragonflies from the water on prior expeditions].

Meanwhile, the sire of the future dragonfly village gets on with (creating) life...

THE EUROBIN DRAGONFLY EITHER: A) TRYING TO DUEL WITH ME, B) ADVERTISING MY LEG TO FEMALES AS A GOOD PLACE TO MATE, OR C) ATTEMPTING TO MATE WITH MY LEG

THE DRAGONFLY IN THE PROCESS OF COMPLETING THE CIRCLE OF LIFE WITH A CONCUBINE

The DRAGONFLY TAKING HIS LOVER INTO ENGAGEMENT WITH A RIVAL, WHILST HIS PREVIOUS MATE LAYS FERTILISED EGGS UNDERWATER AND HIS NEXT CONSORT PATIENTLY LOOKS ON

More pictures at http://www.flickr.com/photos/beautifulworld/sets/1815898/

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Jumping off a cliff

2008-01-07T16:06:00.000+11:00

I’ve always wanted to jump off a cliff. Not just any old cliff, mind you – a 300m cliff that my family has been visiting every year since my grandparents met there. Inspired from a young age by hang gliders launching themselves into space from the top of Mt Buffalo’s granite gorge, this new years eve I took a leap of faith and strapped myself in for a microlight flight over Mt Buffalo (after camping for a number of days at the top and beneath the mountain). Unfortunately, due to insurance costs, I had to rely on an engine to propel me to the top of the gorge (and beyond), though I was fortunate enough to take over the controls on the gliding descent. In homage to my spiritual homeland and in memory of my grandfather, here is a few photos, and following in the next email is an entertaining encounter with a dragonfly stallion.

More photos at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/beautifulworld/sets/1815898/

Timor, where the sun rises

2007-10-28T10:53:00.000+11:00

Reflections from Timor, where the sun rises...

Security was the main concern I had before embarking my journey to East Timor. I had been eager to assist in the installation of solar systems in a country in desperate need of infrastructure, but in the month leading up to my visit it seemed that Timor was again revising the troubles that have plagued its independence. Notionally aware - having travelled through Turkey, Indonesia, and the Middle-East against the advice of the Australian Government - that insecure locations are typically geographically constrained, and one need only avoid war fronts (and five-star hotels), I was generally happy to continue my mission East Timor. However, when it arose that much of the conflict was occurring in the very region that I was headed, and that after a vehicle was attacked en route to Viqueque the UN had ceased driving through the region in favour of using helicopters, I re-thought my itinerary. I was assured that Dili and the surrounding areas were all stable; consequently my activities focussed on this region, though - as it arose - things seemed to have settled in Viqueque by the time I arrived. Following, then are some interesting insights about the country of Timor Lorosae (translation: where the sun rises) whatever you call this country, it matters not , for the word Timor itself means East.

The streets of the capital, Dili, were notionally very safe. Although there were quite a number of internal refugee camps modest places at best, but progressively less squalid as aid agencies installed sanitation units it appeared that life continued as normal for many, with some evidence of refugees settling down in the camps: most notably those small number of refugees who donned business suits to work for international NGOs, before retiring to their tent later that evening. It was only late at night that one might have guessed at a security problem, for at 8pm the streets went deathly quiet. We were caught out one night: having eaten late at a restaurant, we found the streets bereft of taxis, and our hostel lay some 7km away. With little other choice, we set out to walk home, dodging coffin-sized potholes in the dimly-lit streets whilst I nursed a foot with its sole torn open from a local barefoot basketball match earlier that afternoon. We werent sure whether the sight of flashing blue lights and the Australian army in the direction of our travel was a good sign, though the pimple-faced soldier we spoke with assured us that the night was dead, before turning his attention back to the local young women that seemed to be impressed by his uniform. Fortunately, it wasnt much further beyond this point before we passed a gathering of young men nearby a number of cars, and with a swift bit of negotiation we secured ourselves an impromptu lift home. Our saviour in this case may have been the absence of street lighting in that stretch of road, for had we been able to see that they were sitting out front of what must have been the most burnt-out building in Dili, we may not have jumped in that kind young mans car. But, one does get desensitised to the sight of burnt-out buildings in Dili...

The most-recent spate of troubles, not Timors first, owed itself to the most popular political party failing to secure a place in the government, despite winning the greatest share of the vote (40%). Politically-incited violence erupted like a wave across the country, though not for the first time. People we spoke with had varying beliefs about the reason Timor seemed to be infected with violence, some pointing to the anger and frustration of having access to so much oil wealth without yet receiving benefit, or boredom associated with unemployment creating a simmering problem of dissent. Others suggested that the Indonesian occupation had suppressed the ability of people to seek retribution for perceived wrongs inflicted by neighbours, thus the violence was opportunistic, the natural culmination of decades of enforced peace in a society pre-disposed to retribution. Whatever its cause, terrorism it was not, but neither was it conducive to investment or TOURism.

With an uneducated population and few income generation opportunities other than oil wealth and a export market for high quality organic coffee, tourism is a necessary focus for Timorese development. It is a pity that the country hasnt been stable enough to encourage tourists, for in many regards tourism is a natural opportunity. A country with some brilliant natural beauty, including enviably unspoilt diving reefs, eco-tourism could be a sure-fire winner, if sustainably managed. Timor has also, as yet, been unspoilt by tourism you pay the same price as locals almost everywhere, theres no haggling or hassling, and wherever you go youre welcomed by squadrons of young children all eager to pose for photos. Any flash that erupts from a camera causes an eruption of cheers. This creates a welcoming experience untarnished by the negative experience you often face throughout south-east Asia. Its not all tourist utopia - deforestation and lack of garbage collection can despoil what is otherwise a beautiful land blessed with its own unique Eucalyptus species. Timor is also significantly more expensive than its neighbours, a problem compounded by its use of the American dollar as local currency, and the inflation that occurs whenever so many foreign NGOs concentrate in one region. The white 4WDs with clear UN markings charging up and down the narrow streets are another less-pleasant impact of foreign visitors; though (as we found) the sense of being elite that is gained from the money that foreigners such as ourselves command in a subservient society contributes somewhat to the enjoyment of the place a feeling of being rich that must have intoxicated colonial rulers worldwide.

Fortunately, we were able to get real at an eco-resort, an exemplary model of sustainable tourism that was struggling to maintain its democratic constitution in the face of tribal politics on the island of Atauro. It was here that a group of volunteers had installed solar lighting systems, and for this reason we were understandably eager to return to check up on the systems (youll understand why when you see the photos). Our actions in East Timor had otherwise been curtailed by the late delivery of the container of equipment we were set to install; instead we focussed our attention on identifying training possibilities for the locals to ensure the long-term sustainability of installations. The Alternative Technology Association had put in many systems over previous years without paying enough attention to enabling their maintenance, an oversight they wished us to assist in correcting. This gave us license to speak with many interesting people with some relevance to sustainable development and solar energy ; Aires, who had spend 20 years in Sydney repairing microwave ovens before returning to Timor to install solar and biomass systems, all the while creating beautiful art; Gonzalo who must have had the only private backyard swimming pool, notionally to treat the bamboo he was buying from farmers in the process of establishing an export market for the product; Wolfgang, who was developing a secure compound to host foreign dignitaries from neighbouring embassies (notionally to assist the sales of his high-quality water treatment and solar pumping equipment); Jonathan who was making biodiesel from waste vegetable oil produced by the Australian army kitchen; Father Thomas, whose Don Pedro mission was providing enviable technical education to many children; and Pedro, the host of our hostel in Dili, which had been a base for freedom fighters and journalists throughout Indonesian occupation. These people opened their doors to us because we were attempting to help them assist East Timor, resulting in rich conversations and insights a tourist would never attain. So, having established the contacts necessary to create a solar installation and maintenance training course, we earned our R&R.

The tourism we did gave us further insight into Timorese culture, of which children play a significant part - with an average of eight children per couple, its little wonder! Most are living in very poor conditions, resulting in frequent infant and maternal death. Those that make it through have a lot to smile about, and the children we saw behaved impeccably the truck we rode home from the beach in one night was full of perhaps 25 children, none of whom had kicked up a fuss when mum had said its time to go, something impossible to think of in Australia. However, with such few opportunities, child trafficking is becoming an increasing problem, something we contributed to (tongue in cheek) by carting a ute-load of kids up the hill to school one day, saving them an 3km walk; on our return we gave three women and their 20kg sacks of rice a lift of about 20km, much to their pleasure. Riding in the back of a truck is also a cultural phenomenon, although sitting on metal benches while trucks get airborne over some of the rutted roads must take its toll on the body. Unfortunately, the Portugese didnt install much infrastructure (such as roads) during their reign. The Indonesians installed roads, health centres, and electricity; much of which they destroyed when they left the country. As a consequence or poor quality infrastructure and limited ability to pay for upgrades or running/maintenance costs, electricity typically runs only 6 hours a day, also the only time when mains water is available, meaning that taps and lights are left on by the householder. Such is the Timorese unfamiliarity with modern infrastructure that we witnessed a police van, blue lights flashing with extreme urgency, stopped at a traffic light waiting for it to change. Unfortunately, the Indonesians didnt provide much training of the local population, preferring to treat them as no more than human labour. The populations low technical ability makes it difficult to maintain complex solar systems, and with some 800 being installed by the government and UNDP, we devoted our energies to the establishment of training of service personnel who will now be able to earn a living maintaining this critical mass of systems. But the most touching experience was seeing the effect such training can have on one single person.

Given that we had plenty of time on Atauro, we were able to improve the existing systems, in the process dismantling and reconnecting each in a uniform way. Jonniko, A local worker at the eco-resort demonstrated enthusiasm, and we gladly took to instructing him. Such was his desire to learn that it wasnt uncommon for us to find Jonniko improving a system while wed been having a kip. Over the course of 3 days, we extended the existing system, providing additional energy services, making maximal use of Jonnikos rapidly developing ability to troubleshoot systems. Jonniko extended his gratitude to us with tears of thanks in his eyes, overcome with emotion not only at being given the opportunity to develop his skills and earning potential, but more significantly (we feel) at the experience of being treated as someone equal, someone able, a valuable human being, something he would not have experienced during Indonesian times.

I'll leave you with a timeless picture of Timor... As always, plenty more amazing photos at http://www.flickr.com/photos/beautifulworld/sets/72157602220513647/

Warwick

Cairns Adventures

2007-08-04T16:30:00.000+10:00

Tales and images from a wet two weeks journey in Cairns

Queensland: Beautiful one day, perfect the next*.
* AND RAINING THE OTHER 363 DAYS EACH YEAR. - So should read the disclaimer. Judging by our experience, two sunny days in a row in Cairns would be a freak occurrence worthy of a news report. Lured by the promise of an escape from Melbourne's winter theat would have us lying on a beach for two weeks of idle recharging, Julia and I quickly discovered why a rainforest is so appropriately named. For unfortunately, nobody had notified the gods that the wet season officially ends in May. Sunscreen graced our pale screen for a total of 6 hours over the course of the vacation; every layer of thin clothing was employed just to keep us warm and dry in the 19-22 degree daytime temperatures. Of course, this was the same weather front that flooded Newcastle and froze Melbourne, so we didn't fare too badly.

For the first few days we were buoyant, regardless of the weather, and hopeful for an improvement in conditions. The cliff-top hang- gliding instructor believed that the windswept, onshore conditions were perfect (perfect for business, not for our holiday), and likely to remain so for a couple of days. He kindly directed us to a freecamp on "Pretty Beach", apparently the beach where the XXXX commercial was filmed. Ahead of us lay a hilly coastline seemingly beset by interminable rain, clouds frozen in position above green mountains, a mystical land called the Daintree.

It seemed like another planet up there; seemed inconceivable that we were in Australia, and I expressed my surprise that the locals spoke such good (albeit broad and slow) english, and that the cars drove on the left. Unimaginable lifeforms sprung from the fertile earth, raising heavenward buoyed on the air alone, mystical beings danced amongst the trees or lay frozen beyond sight. We awoke each morning half expecting that the forest would have reclaimed our van the previous night, such was the competition amongst the crowded flora for available land space. A world of abundance that supported crazy creatures like a colourful
Emu (Cassowary), hopping mouse (Musky-rat Kangaroo), and a glowing
beetle that lined the sides of the road, as if placed there by a over-
diligent roadworker who'd seen one too many David Attenborough
documentaries.

Whilst Julia hid away from the crocodiles, mosquitos, cassowarys,
wild pigs, and leeches that all seemed intent on eating her, I got
friendly with wildlife.

One of my most serene encounters was with a dragonfly I found
drowning. I walked past this beauty floating in the water, took a
photo, but sadly assumed that he had already drowned. Not far down
the path I took a shot of a butterfly in flight, and was then turned
around by some wild pigs. On my return to this water, the dragonfly
made a single struggling motion - he was alive! I carefully picked
him up on my finger, and waited while he preened the water from his
face, flapped the water from his wings, warmed up his body by
vigorously flapping, smiled at me, and then took off up to the sky. A
heartwarming adventure.

Here he is in the water.
Here he is rescued: Here he is flapping his wings free of the water.

And here he is dry, about to fly away to live another day.

We emerged from our rain drenched week in the Daintree happily having
visited a permaculture exotic fruit farm, an insect museum, a yoga/
meditation retreat, and plenty of waterfalls, swimming holes and
rainy beach walks. We headed inland, towards the sun and away from
the crocodiles that threatened Julia's peace. Both of us were happy
to get out of the campervan, which was forcing us to chant 'Om' at
the top of our lungs any time the refrigerator kicked in, or the sink
pump screamed, just so that our sanity wasn't blasted from our minds.
Free from the threat of crocodiles, Julia had the courage to venture
outdoors, only to be chased inside by 'Lady', a Major Mitchell (Pink)
Cockatoo that grew quite amorous with me, and chased Julia back into
the van by attacking her toenails (the hostage is seen here praying
for her release).

Inland, we visited a granite gorge - where the strangler figs even
attempt to kill granite boulders, a volcanic lake that was crawling
with life and hungry bottom-breathing turtles, and the paradisiacal
home of a friend, perched on the bank of a crystal clear river, two
doors down from national park. The rain managed to find us, obscuring
waterfalls in mist so that it looked (and felt) like a waterfall was
streaming directly from heavens. For all the rain - the daintree
receiving 3.8m a year, Cairns 2m versus Melbourne's 500mm - this
experience of an ancient rainforest and jewel of Australia was
thoroughly enjoyed by Julia , myself
, and our travelling companions

In other news, Julia has moved in with me, and I've taken a new job
as a renewable energy consultant/manager, working from home (and
hopefully frequently from Lorne), for 4 days/week, with 50% pay rise.
The company's name is Climate Managers - for my first job I'll see
what I can do about managing Melbourne's climate (Cairns' is beyond
control).

Peace,
Warwick Johnston

More at http://flickr.com/photos/beautifulworld/sets/72157600540965045/

Climate-CHANGE! website and webvideo released

2007-02-10T16:54:00.000+11:00

I've put together a small website and video which conveys my vision for our evolution on this planet. I believe that climate change presents the significant challenge that is needed in order for humans to rise beyond themselves, and nations to recognise their common mutual interest. We respond best to an inspiring challenge - we've been to the Moon, after all. But now we are all connected, and our evolved response to climate change offers the opportunity for us to address much of what is wrong with our current human climate. It may sound like a lofty goal, but I envision that the simple responses set out in the movie can set in motion a chain reaction. Its an inspiring vision for us to stand for, united - and is hope-based.

I was originally going to produce this work as part of the Vision Statements I create (see my YouTube site), but was further inspired by Easy Being Green's competition. It has encouraged me to really put my vision 'out there', and I will be incredibly rewarded if it touches many people, and has a big impact on their lives. Winning the competition itself would be a major bonus, as it would strongly support me in creating and distributing more of such visions, teaching people to envision and create their own... the multiplier effect. I would be so happy and grateful to put the competition winnings towards an upgraded camera (a digital-SLR) so that I may capture even more images of the world's beauty, with a tool that unleashes my creative visions.

You can see it (and help avoid Global Warming) at www.wondawe.com

The Secret (Shared)

2006-09-22T17:51:00.000+10:00

Watching “THE SECRET” brought up some interesting reflections for me, which I wish to share. I hope that doing so may activate some seat of truth in those of you that read on.

The Secret reminds us that we create our own reality. Our thoughts and emotions draw related happenings into our lives. It encourages us to therefore take a co-creational path though life, and to manifest what it is that we truly want.

This struck a note with me, as I feel blessed to have been taught metaphysics and conscious creation from a young age, and employed it to good effect – as evidenced by the wondrous life for which I am truly grateful. So, the first personal confrontation of ‘The Secret’ was what to ask for. In many ways my life is already perfect; I am connected into a web of incredible light beings, each phenomenal in their own right, each reflecting my brilliance and nurturing its development. My contribution to nature and society in an area of personal passion has already begun to reap inner and outer rewards through the work that I do. This year I’ve experienced a life-changing love, and have stepped into adulthood and embraced manhood. And at the eclipse I tapped into my own spiritual power, which I feel is developing and ripening, ready and willing to expand with the guidance of those surrounding me. Putting it all in writing before me, I realize that everything I visualized at this year’s commencement, I have created. And the question that burned me is: “If I have in this moment everything that I’ve wanted, if I don’t feel a sense of lacking something, if I feel like I’ve got what I’ve been looking for for so long (thanks be to you all), then what’s left to create? What do I choose to create next?”

Then I Remembered that there is plenty of room for further bliss, further beauty, more and deeper fulfilling experiences, wonderment, spiritual alignment and realization of divinity. In this infinite universe, contentment is all well and good – and actually for me the perfectionist, who must live life with a purpose, just being content with life is actually something new and an achievement - but am I living to my greatest potential? So, the cycle evolves into the next, higher spiral, as I now reflect upon what next I want, knowing that it could indeed be anything, limitless.

But what to ask for? I’d love to be living in a place of natural beauty, with loving housemates and surrounded by inspiring community. I’d love for my photography and insightful writing to take me amazing places and provide me wealth as they, my voice, develop. I’d love to be having an even greater and further reaching positive impact upon the environment and community. I’d love my life to be filled with even more wondrous experiences of meaning insight and beauty. I’d love to share love in greater abundance and depth together in union with another soul with whom to evolve, and community with whom to co-inspire and co-create. And I’d love for each of these elements to work synergistically together, to breathe this dream into my life in perfect divine timing.

Yeah but that’s the easy bit, that’s the ‘what more could be’. Given infinite abundance, where do we stop asking? Why not ask for the lot?

But ultimately beyond all of this lies what we’re all ultimately wanting:… Happiness. The challenge I face is recognition that none of these are pre-requisites for my happiness, yet they are circumstances conducive to it. Is an emphasis on such circumstances overlooking what’s ultimately important? It’s easy enough to visualize such specifics, yet how do you visualize increased happiness? Question unresolved, to be explored, insights welcome please.

But back to where I started – the greatest realization is when you know you have everything you need, and have been blessed with all you wish for. So, thank you all again for your wonderful love.

Warwick

Maldives Magic

2006-09-02T20:59:00.000+10:00

When people think of the Maldives, generally the picture that comes to mind is of a tropical island paradise. Of endless surf breaks in warm waters abundant with marine life. Of sunsets and boats.

That, at least, is what the tourist brochures would have you believe. But that's only one part of the Maldives. Beyond the resort lies a very different country - a capital city of Male' which occupies just 3km x 1km but holds 70,000 people. A sparse sprinkling of far flung atolls formed from remnants of old volcanoes, occupied by villages engaged in boat building and fishing, each with a unique mix of issues, and many affected by the Tsunami in one way or another. It is this Maldives which I came to see.
Engaged as a consultant to perform a feasibility study on renewable energy systems in Tsunami reconstruction on behalf of the British Red Cross, my colleague Duncan and I were taken on a week-long tour of 7 islands in two atolls, and engaged with community members to assess their energy situation and possible remedies. It was a truly unique and insightful experience, in which we were granted meetings with ministers and mechanics, taught a school class before been led to the principals office (for the first time in over a decade), and sat in communal hammocks under palm trees with island chiefs sipping coconut milk. The food on the islands consisted of fish, fish, and more fish - "FISH" being the sole response to our "what's in that" query of all menu items - though we were also fortunate enough to be treated to fresh coconuts professionally cut by a wily old man with a 30 year old wife and a twinkle in his eye, who shared his secret for satisfying a young wife (much has to do with a mango tree and (in the absence of Viagra) frequent drumming practise to maintain erectile performance).

Whilst the Maldivians we met were lovely people and were keen to hear some solutions to their energy problems, they seemed unfortunately unaware of environmental sustainability as key to their future survival. If relying on international tourism in the era of peak oil sounds perilous, if the notion of every power plant and boat running on diesel seems somewhat unsustainable, if the thought of a country with 80% of its land less than 1m above sea level sounds precariously threatened by global warming, if you feel that (for all our good intentions) we may be merely assisting to prolong the agony of a country destined for underwater fame, if it sounds like Atlantis may be founded by people intent on sacrificing their housing foundations in order to build higher with outdated notions of 'progress', then perhaps you too should visit the Maldives! (whilst they're still there)!

The one possibly suitable method for raising the mean height of the Maldives seems to make use of the growing piles of litter accumulating everywhere as the Maldives transition to a more wasteful "developed" nation. Growing amounts of garbage and lessening amounts of land is leading to the practise of landfill being used in reclaiming land. This is practised on a national level and on a local level, for it seems that there is an affection for direct reclamation of land by dumping rubbish on the beach - perhaps most concerningly highlighted by the local language, in which the word for "Beach" is the same word used for "rubbish dump".Meanwhile, those in the capital city (island) of Male' go about their lives attaining to Western lifestyles with disregard for locally appropriate behaviour. Drivers brandishing expensive mobile phones import cars (actually, EVERYTHING is imported (except fish, fish... and coconuts)), then proceed to drive circles around the island, leaving motorbikes and scooters contend with narrowing gaps between cars and pickup trucks, whilst bicyclist are left to their own devices. That cars are necessary on an island which must be all of 3km x 1km is beyond me, though I guess there is little likelihood of a subway being installed on a flat island 1m above sea level. The insanity of driving cars and motorbikes about might be explained as the only form of "entertainment" on a strictly-Islamic country in which nightclubs are forbidden, alcohol can only be obtained on resort islands and is expressly forbidden for consumption by locals (with the exception of fortunate oversight on behalf of "Toddy", a local traditional fermented palm-flower drink which people (in between hiccups) vehemently deny is alcoholic), and all stores must legally be closed between the hours of 6:00pm and 7:30pm for prayer.That in mind, we were asked to assist the locals (rather than only make fun of them), and we're happy to note that the renewable energy systems we've proposed are intended to address outlying islands' energy self sufficiency and independence from centrally controlled fossil fuel supplies. They also will assist in transitioning economies away from diesel and toward more sustainable land use. They will provide power in event of future disasters, and assist in pumping water for irrigation and relief from tidal surges. Its been an insightful trip, one which has left me with an indelible impression of the calibre of British Red Cross staff and intentions.

I therefore hope you'll see that we have been doing some significant work here, its not been a junket at all (so long as you don't ask me about the surfari (complete with rediculously stupid cocktails) I just returned from!). That's the other aspect to the Maldives - the luscious lifestyle. Complete with outdoor showers, dolphins, sharks, turtles, sting rays, and multitudes of fishes. Now, as I sit and rotate in my hammock, where is my papaya juice and handful of fifty-cents-per-kilo Bananas?

Back in Melbourne today - which reminds me, I'm still in the market for a homely share house with grounded housemates in an eco-aware household located near some natural beauty, ideally Clifton Hill/Westgarth/Fairfield. If anyone is looking for a housemate, please let me know. Cheers.
Warwicked.

Familia

2006-05-09T17:22:00.000+10:00

Hmmmm, what to say - I haven't really had much chance to compose any travel memoirs of late, principally because I've been traipsing across Germany, Austria and Spain, all in the name of solar air conditioning (the reason for which I came to Europe.... or was the solar eclipse.... I forget. Both were pretty massive in my life). This has meant that most of my experience has been that of trains, hotels, and meeting rooms, with no time whatsoever for sightseeing, photography, or creative writing (an understated term given the usual creative license which I apply to my experiences). The one benefit has been the opportunity to visit friends from the eclipse and past Europe trips, in Freiburg, Munich, and Berlin.

The only exception to full-time work has been a (long) weekend in Spain, in which I managed to catch some of Gaudi's masterpiece, the Sagrada Familia, a work which will probably have taken 200 years before the artist's original vision is completely realised. In these times when no building construction lasts longer than 2 years, it is truly wonderful to walk amongst an emerging work in the same way one may have done as churches and temples were erected in previous millennia - even if the Sagrada Familia does look like much of a construction zone. Gaudi's incorporation of natural elements, including formations based upon trees and spirals, is highly inspiring and demonstrates a vision for which I have an affinity. But it was the passion of Christ facade which I found to be most photographically pleasing, as demonstrated below.

Words upon a massive door seemed to reveal a message to the world, conveying the master's wisdom, of evermore portent value with the increasing complexity of todays life and crises.

Embedded in its raised words lay details of beautiful nature, shells, skulls, faces....

... all contributing to the macrocosmic representation of an astonishing and breathtaking minor detail within this overall extraordinary masterpiece, the inspection of which would certainly bring a look of awe to your face.

Oh yeah, there's another reason there hasn't been a lot of correspondence from me of late... . Her name is Cristina.
Turns out the solar eclipse isn't the only thing which defies direct description, there's another experience which can only be experienced and felt within, the kind of which inspires poets to prose. Would love to say more, but words escape me - perhaps I'll venture a little bit more than "It was really good" and say that I'm (just) ecstatic. A weekend at her home in Berlin rapidly evolved into a week together in Barcelona, including a beautiful camping trip along the Costa Brava, in which I had a quick lesson in driving on the wrong hand side of the road through the streets (and occasional accidental foray through the pedestrian malls) of Barcelona.

Anyway, by the time you receive this I'll be in Thailand for a few days en route home. Back May 11, looking forward to paddling out to a surf break, to riding my bike and to paying a visit to Sydney in the last week of May.
Warwick

Cairo

2006-04-21T21:53:00.000+10:00

I've decided that there certainly must be some conspiracy in action in the middle east. At first I thought that the local's "hello, what is your name" and "where are you from" was merely a friendly, welcoming and friendly questioning, resulting from a lack of further english with which to conduct a conversation. However, after travelling through Syria, Jordan, and Egypt, and having being followed and then hounded by these questions, I began to wonder that perhaps they were actually the government's way of keeping track of the movements of foreigners, that after meeting me the locals would immediately phone the secret police to report "Warwick the Australian last seen near the moaning water wheels." As I became more and more paranoid in response to this continued inquisition, I decided to thwart further interrogation by responding that I came from Mars, and that they had a very nice planet (much to the confusion of most, evidence of a successful decoying ploy).

That said, I have enjoyed my time in Cairo, though after (yet) another two hour border crossing because the border guards ran out of stamps, and then our bus staff conducted the most inefficient and lengthy means of data collection employed since the times of the Roman census, I could only laugh when finally as our bus departed the border station, we completed three full turns around a roundabout before coming to another halt - indicating exactly why Egypt has lost every single modern war it has been involved in.

Cairo was surprisingly enjoyable, particularly as I had expected to not enjoy it. Having met a good-natured Mexican on the bus to Cairo, we proceeded to laugh our way through the back streets of old Cairo- both of us gasping at this woman's sense of reaching out from behind her veil in this universal declaration
- and to share astonishment at the Egyptian museum. Both of us were struck by the beauty of the Tutenkhamen exhibition, a particular image - that of peoples faces gazing in wonder at the magnificence before them, as seen from behind Tutenkhamen's mask with golden reflection in the enclosing glass case - sticking in my mind. We left buoyed by witnessing human's greatest capabilities in historic civilisation.

Beyond this and some simple hanging out with hostel friends and a Lebanese-Egyptian (male) model I met on the street, I made the obligatory visit to the Pyramids,where I was able to remove myself from the crowds and find some peace on a n overlooking hill perfect for some yoga.

Other than this, Egyptian thrills involved crossing roads (frogger style), taxi rides, camel eating, chatting with islamic students from the oldest university in the world, observing the making of mother-of-pearl hand-made boxes, running down streets at night because footpaths were choked with late night shoppers and we were running late for a train, drinking chay, and all that goes with it. All in all, a wonderful visit which only entices me to return. I'm in Germany now, working and meeting with friends.Full power to you all,
Warwick
http://inspirationalworld.blogspot.com/
http://flickr.com/photos/beautifulworld/

Dead City

2006-04-19T17:57:00.000+10:00

The history of the city of Jerusalem is immediately apparent and impressive. Dating back 5000 years, Jew, Roman, Byzantine Christian, Arabian Muslim, Crusading Christian, Mamluk Muslim, Ottoman Muslim, the British, and now again Israeli Jew have ruled the city. It seems as though every square foot of the 'holy city' is occupied by church, synagogue, mosque, or museum, and wandering around the warren of city streets, one passes very perceptively from Armenian to Jewish to Christian to Arabic quarters. Its occupants carry the weight of this history upon their shoulders, as seen by their stooped posture and gritted faces. There were a few surprises to be had when walking around the city (often hopelessly lost) - I stumbled upon an apocalyptic rooftop playground, in which the Jewish quarter extended over the Arabic souq (market), complete with Jewish guard watching over the area children had abandoned in favour of playing in the bustling alleys below.

Jerusalem was an opportunity to visit the many Churches of the Orthodox (Greek, Syrian, Coptic) and Western (Lutherian, Catholic) Christian faiths, many of which interlinked. In the path of doing so, my path took me from an under-ground cistern below a church, complete with resonant acoustics, through the discordant tones of the Ethiopians singing mass in their monastry, and into a sung liturgy held by the Franciscans, caretakers of the church of the holy sceplture (where faiths agree that Christ was crucified, cleansed, buried and reborn) .
Christian pilgrims come from all over to touch the stone upon which Christ was cleansed, make offerings, and to pray.

The jewel in the visual crown would have to be the temple mount, a place claimed by all three Monotheistic faiths, and currently the home to a striking mosque (built by the Byzantines on behalf of their Desert conquerers). Its golden dome is eye catching, and tiled appearance superb. As the bird in the photo below ascended to the sky, it struck perhaps a symbolic pose.

Of course, the faith which dominates the greater city is that of Judaism. Being there on the first day of Pasach (Passover), I was treated to an insight into the effect of Religion on city life, as businesses shut up shop in anticipation of the coming holiday. It would be concerning to the unwitting tourist to have a city close before their eyes, a prophetic symbol of some coming catastrophy, cafe's stowing chairs and tables and shutters being brought down until the new city was a dead city. It was eerie walking the streets at 8pm, having them wholly to myself (if there were tumbleweeds in the region they would have all been streaming toward the city for their annual convention), and it felt more like a balmy summer evening 5am aftermath than dinnertime in the capital city.

For this and all other emails and photos, visit
http://inspirationalworld.blogspot.com/
http://flickr.com/photos/beautifulworld/

Warwick

Petra, Siq!

2006-04-12T04:25:00.000+10:00

When I arrived at the top of Mount Nebo, hoping to catch the same view of the promised land that Moses saw moments before his death, I began to understand why it it took him 40 years to get here from Egypt, for it was shrouded in mist. Although treated to a brief glimpse between clouds, Jordan's vast landscape lay unrevealed, creating an introspective atmosphere perfect for contemplation of the intention and effect of Moses' words. What Moses lacked - a car - I was fortunate to have, which allowed me to explore some of Jordan's natural beauty in the company of a few other tourists. Rocky gorges, rocky plains, rocky valleys and mountains, Jordan has a beauty all of its own, and many of the Wadi (valleys) I have passed continue to entice me to return, to explore deeper. There have been more than a few places I have looked upon and said - why there is a fine cave in which to sleep.

Such an idea was had at Petra in the centuries before Christ's birth. Here, carved into sandstone cliff faces, lie tombs of mammoth proportions. Thousands of these dot the hilly landscape, their numbers slowly revealed as you emerge from the Siq (a cleft in the earth) and out into a valley surrounded by tombs extravagantly carved from rock faces. Along with a ampitheatre, sacrificial sites, and the ruins of ornamental gates lie the remains of a civilisation obsessed with tombs. The sheer quantity of tombs leads me to believe that a lot of people died here, and to conjecture that perhaps death did not proceed burial. The hills and rocks themselves - expressive in their features, flowing in their formations, astonishing in their gathering, and colourful in their strata - would attract visitors on account of their natural beauty alone. That impressive burial chambers have been carved into their faces by an advanced historical culture leads only to greater wonder and amazement.The Bedouin, traditionally nomadic people, have inhabited this region for over 600 years, and now they seem very at home in Petra, where they sell horse, camel, and donkey rides, as well as a number of trinkets. Their expertise in the English language, stemming from years of conversation with tourists, makes it possible to sit down and engage in deep conversation. It is through visiting their homes in the areas further from the tourist throngs and by accepting invitations to their villages that I have been fortunate to have an insight into their lives - simple but joyful, with 8-20 children (typically from multiple wives for the latter figure), their homes are full of the cutest faces you can imagine.
Sitting high atop a mountain, on a view which took in three valleys, adjacent hills, and a 30m high rock-carved monastery, sat my new friend Atalla. His pipe flute rang out, echoing again and again with an melody which brought the rocks to life. This man seemed to be a Bedouin saint, bottle feeding two of his goats which had been orphaned, answering their bleated cries, and carrying them gently in tender embrace rather than by the ears as many farmers would. From this high vantage point he revealed not only his tender nature, but also human dignity and intelligence, as he responded to my questions about his personal dreams, hopes for the region, peace in the middle east, terrorism, and the environment. Atalla had been privvy to frank conversations with US army soldiers and had aroused the interest of a BBC reporter with whom he had spoken.His opinions on Jordan echoed those of every other Jordanian I had queried, and it seems that the kingdom of Jordan is blessed with a benevolent monarch, enlightened democracy, reasonable quality of life, general happiness, and mutual dislike of terrorism which results in community prevention. I'm sure that our leaders would have similarly nigh-unanimous approval ratings if they demonstrated such qualities as Jordan's.

Syriausly Hospitable

2006-04-12T04:19:00.000+10:00

It is only when you get a repeatedly implored invitation to enter a lingerie and women's clothing shop that you begin to realise that profit is not motivating Syrian conversation, hospitality is. As I had wandered the streets, it seemed that everybody knew two English words - "Hello" and "Welcome". Those that spoke more than a handful used all their pleasantries before graciously allowing me to continue the next 10 metres down the street before I would be bailed up again. Initially distrustful, suspecting that everyone wanted to sell me something, I slowly opened up to people's invitation to conversation, with the reward of being able to sit inside a lingerie shop (and a muslim one at that), chat with a herbal doctor (though I declined the herbal viagra offered, invariably unneccessary but even more so for a westerner in Syria), and meet (very) extended family family matters, (though now I realise that this email may be flagged as junk mail as it contains the words 'viagra' and 'extended' in the same sentence (oops, now twice).Apart from the aforementioned markets, there was little to offer in the city of Hama. Their claim to fame are some large wooden waterwheels, oft pictured. What pictures fail to convey is the stench of the river which hosts the waterwheels. When I arrived, they had not yet re-started the river's water flow and hence the waste which accumulated was in an advanced state of decay, causing me to seriously question my guidebook's suggestion of a romantic walk through adjacent parks.A day-trip out of the city let me to the ruins of Apamea, whose columns make for good photographic material, but are otherwise uninspiring. What is of more interest is the driving skills of those people who drive their scooter around the ruins hawking 'old' coins.
A far more enjoyable afternoon was spent climbing a castle I stumbled across en route, behind which lay a surprise canyon full of sheep and goats, and a charming river.The next day, the river began to flow for the summer season, lessening the haze of aroma, only to be replaced by the mournful sound of the wooden waterwheels turning. This chorus of bagpipes hounded me from the city, as I journeyed to mountains and castles in search of Syria's less noxious tourist attractions

On such a castle expedition, we arrived to find the first castle closed for the day, which only increased my desire to enter, whether by way of medieval force or subterranean subterfuge. My method of ramming the front door down proving itself unsuccesful, and lacking the time to starve the occupants out, nor a battering ram, catapult, ladder, or flaming carcass with which to force entry, I employed all that I knew about castles - there is always a secret exit - which I was able to locate (on my umpteenth attempt of peering into holes which seemed to have been converted into makeshift lavatories). Having discovered the castle's weakness, my interest in it waned and I moved on to a grander adventure - that of conquering Crac de Chevaliers, the best preserved Crusader castle and a place to relive childhood fantasies. This double walled castle would certainly also have been impenetrable, were it not for the fact that the front door lay open, the guard easily bribed with an entrance fee.

However short my visit was, Syria's greatest attraction was its people, welcoming and hospitable. There is no symbol of Syria's generous hospitality greater than the amount of refugees they have taken in - palestinians, Maronites & Armenians, demonstrating tolerance and diversity. If only our nations could follow their example.

Soulful Total Solar Eclipse

2006-04-03T04:48:00.000+10:00

The total solar eclipse experience was, by all accounts, truly soulful. I spent a week camping at a trance festival in a beautiful national park in Southern Turkey, arriving before the festival began to contribute to the setting up of the healing space, offering an opportunity to connect with some truly divine people.

The festival itself turned out to be a bit of a mudbath, for every afternoon for the first four days of my stay, a storm would drench the ground and create the sort of mud which seemed to delight in sticking to your shoes. That not being enough, the rest of the mud would grow envious of the mud affixed to your boots, and cast itself upon its brethren, until your feet weighed an extra couple of kilos, and you stood a good six inches taller. Bare feet were an option which afforded one the luxury of being able to walk through the many puddles without fear of eternally soaked footwear, though as they offered less traction and thus a high likelihood of falling over, they were a dangerously muddy threat to the remnant patches of clothes which could be described clean. Those clever Turks who realised that neither trinkets, nor soap shaped like fruit were going to be big sellers at a festival remarkably dissimilar to a tourist resort, quickly began to sell wellington(gum) boots, and it is the fond memory beautifully dressed men and women, from all over the world, uniting to make a common fashion statement - ala gum boot - which must have had the creators of the ugg boot in emergency meetings about having been upstaged in the ugly stakes.

The rain was typically brief and the mud seemed to dry quite quickly, much to everyone's relief, and the weather and festival site were astonishingly beautiful. Set by a winding river and draping itself around numerous hills, morning mist typically burned off about the time of my morning yoga and swim session. The morning typically heated up to a temperature which encouraged the exposure of inappropriate amounts of flesh for a muslim country, and the local turks who heard about the festival and swanned about perving must have been happy with the prospect of wet t-shirt competition promised by the typical afternoon buildup of cloud, though those of us there to witness an eclipse nervously searched for the sun each day about the time of the forthcoming eclipse.
(my campsite)(view from my yoga platform)

Little could have prepared us for the approaching cataclysm, and certainly the turkish workers employed to build the mainstage employed the same construction techniques as they have in their ruins, for a severe thunderstorm which centred itself over the festival for an hour - dropping 1cm diameter hail until the ground was white - caused the flat-roofed main stage to collapse, much to the dismay of the hard-core partygoers who had to make do with 2 stages for 3 days. Most people seemed to cope well enough with this catastrophe, even though it occurred just before the opening ceremony, such was the peaceful vibe and pleasant nature of the first international party of the season, and all-in-all it had a nice cleansing effect.

My contribution to the festival, apart from the occasional piece of voluntary labour, was as a healer. Together the healers - which included yoga instructors, masseurs, Reiki practitioners, sound healers, Mayan calendar teachers, and more - came together to hold resonance within the healing space, perform impromptu observation of ceremony and ritual, and to bring our own energies into line. Through this group I felt a deep connection with my own energy, and stepped into a space of personal power and group service. My particular contribution, beyond that mentioned above, was to facilitate a talking circle, an opportunity for free and open communication between a group of people. The focus for the circle was experiences and understandings of the healing potential of solar eclipses, with the group sharing of wisdom opening doorways of understanding into personal experience. Its effect was deeply satisfying to assist in bringing those present to a state of attunement and inner observation, concluding as the sun's light began to dim under partial eclipse, and it certainly connected me with a deeper experience.

The total solar eclipse itself was, as ever, indescribable. Again, as per the Outback Australian Eclipse 2002, I can only describe my internal feelings. For me, this eclipse was less exhilarating than my first (a short but intense 23 seconds) and had a different appearance (high in the sky versus on the horizon), though its duration (3m30) seemed eternal and time lost all meaning. Although, like an addict enjoying a peak, you wish it could keep going, the climax of the eclipse is indeed the reappearance of the sun - at first but a pearl as it peeks through a crater on the moon, but quickly growing to glow upon one side like a diamond ring, before finally discontinuing to envelop the whole moon. Internally, beyond the feelings of awe, tears of joy in beauty and sadness, I felt a sense of completeness and integration. Completeness in person and in self, and completion of this expansive cycle since my past eclipse (from when I have come to stand far more assuredly in my power). Integration as though somehow the eclipse was in my heart and beating through my body a DNA-activating or awakening (as came to me visually when sitting with the feeling I had), as if possible the associated new beginning. The photos below convey neither my feelings nor the visual spectacle that is the eclipse, but they do give an opportunity to put a visual image against my experience, and in doing so greater share the experience. I sent out the feelings I was having to those in Australia I knew would be listening, also to all those graced, touched, and moved by the moon's shadow, those in the chaotic neighbouring region in the spirit of salaam aleykum, and all of us all over the planet with the intuition that in these times of change, such opportunities are energetic blessings (eclipses have stopped wars before). To all you receiving this email, I hope that you too feel some of its magic.

The eclipse experience itself was about far more than just the eclipse. The gathering of the tribe at Soulclipse, the total solar eclipse festival which I attended, brought together beautiful people from all over the world, each bringing with them the energy of anticipation and joy. Plenty of fun was had dancing, but far beyond that was connecting with friends old and new. I was happy to again meet and dance with Vera (my German friend who now lives in Istanbul), Fi Minto and her incredible bus, and Jo who has delighted the Victorian trance festival circuit with her joyous transformation and carefree antics. I spent much time hanging out with a group of new friends who were also contributing to the healing space, and together we shared beautiful experiences, journeys, ceremonies, meals, and happiness. Dessy came across from Bulgaria, and it was wonderful to share the solar eclipse and trance festival experience with her. Particularly it was a truly embracing reunion which certainly must be the most loving, caring friendship I have experienced as we recounted our past year, shared our dreams for the future, healed aspects of our past current and future relationship, and were re-connected.

And, not only did I get a solar eclipse, but in the same day I met and engaged with one person who I hero-worship on a musical level. I was dancing to Shpongle beside this bloke, commented on his clothes, he mentioned that I reminded him of some cartoon character and I said - "that's funny, you remind me of Andy from Lamb". He said "that's funny, because I am". Anyway, whilst the music continued and people carried on dancing, our worlds stood still as we engaged, chatting about life and the effect Lamb's music, in particular Gorecki, had had on me, Dessy, and two others of the aforementioned group of friends - a pertinent connection as I had been discussing that it is the energy carried by the love communicated in the song Gorecki which keeps my level of faith high, in knowingness that the perfect partner does exist, that they're out there and are worth waiting for. Yaaay - so nice to meet Andy again!!!

Anyway, it was difficult to leave such a brilliant festival, and there's many more stories to be told - many captured in photos online - http://www.flickr.com/photos/beautifulworld. But for the moment, I'm in Syria and the Syrian government won't let me access my email. Hope then that this gets to you somehow.

Love to you all.
Warwick

Australian Exit

2006-03-24T19:46:00.000+11:00

What a beautiful exit from Australia...

The beauty of Australia's age was trumpeted, as I felt a deep connection to the land's ancient energy and vast beauty. Bangarra dance company, a modern Aboriginal dance troupe, teamed up with the Australian Ballet to provide a farewell treat the night before departure, a reminder to the gathering of cultures which makes Australia wonderful, the sound of the didge reverberating throughout.

The flight took me over the Murray, for the second time in as many months, again struck by the wayward wandering of this mighty drainage system that forms our state border and has influenced the lives of countless numbers of people.
As I flew over Australia, chasing the sun's gradually lengthening shadows, the relief of the land sprung to, and desert features leapt up in abundance. Numerous rocky outcrops presented themselves, all seemingly impressive from the air and each enticing me to visit, and as I observed the vastness of the Australian continent, I was showered in its beauty. All of the formations seemed to be aligned, giving the impression that prevailing winds had caused ripples in the earth's surface in much the same way undulations form in sand. Eternally empty riverways left their mark, drainage basins apparent and hidden force demonstrated by the manner in which they sliced through the rock formations outcrops. They too somehow all seemed to head inland, no doubt evaporating in the desert heat long before they reached the fabled inland sea, leaving in their place vast salt lakes,which somehow the ever-present scrub did not seem to mind.

Then the aeroplane involuntarily rolled to the left as the captain made an announcement that we were passing over Uluru, and passengers flew to the windows quicker than on an emergency exit. Forehead pressed to the window, I gasped in the extraordinary beauty of our magnificent monolith, and felt touched by the sacred energy of Australia's heart, a blessing and omen on the start of this journey to witness heavenly beauty in its most awe-strikingly sublime form.

In Istanbul, safe and sound, excited and energised.
Warwick.

All images on Flickr Beautiful World

Eclipse sightings grow in number

2006-03-24T19:38:00.000+11:00

19032006
Originally uploaded by Beautiful wwworld.

Its funny how we seem to observe things in increasing quantities when we turn our attention to them. Some call this 'messages' (I do) others just coincidence or reflections on the human mind's filtering process. Whichever way it is, I decided to do it consciously in my attempt to grow more and more excited about the eclipse, and it proves that eclipses aren't rare, they're everywhere we look.
Here are a few other sightings:

This is a number plate of a car which I saw after viewing the beautiful moonrise below, on the second last night before I left Australia - watching the moon a fabulous way of observing the inevitable passage to eclipse

There's more eclipse sightings and relevant others in my flickr group

Inflatable mattresses

2006-03-06T08:45:00.000+11:00

A couple of things have caught my eye of late, which I wanted to share.

I was cycling along the F1 Grand Prix track (as you do), off in my own little world of brum brumm cars, considering that perhaps the reason I'd been dreaming of F1 cars overtaking me as I cycled along a mountain road was because my daily commute takes me past race barriers and even more scarily, typically in the wrong direction (major digression here but riding into F1 traffic is a high adrenaline sport), when....

I decided to start a new sentence, for sake of clarity.

It was just nice to see, playing on the grass hill adjacent to the track, a toddler make bold steps up the hill towards a sprinkler which was an obvious source of fun. Mum only cottoned on that junior was going to get wet just prior to the event, and started an inevitable sprint to his rescue (things looked very slow motion in her mind at this stage, I'm sure). She was able to snatch him away from the sprinkler just as he reached it (Boooo!) but much to my delight (and theirs), this was the exact moment that the sprinkler (one of those ones that sounds like a cricket) swung around and saturated them both, their laughter ringing out.

The second moment of joy this week came down on the beach, when I saw three people, a man and two women all in their seventies, riding waves on those old school inflatable mattresses. It was such a delightful sight to see these oldies enjoying the waves without any regard to their age, as they looked to have done for decades. Yum

pre eclipse cycle cresent3

2006-02-28T20:11:00.000+11:00

pre eclipse cycle cresent3
Originally uploaded by Beautiful wwworld.

I slept beneath the radiant southern stars on the Sunday night, to awaken at first light to an intensely beautiful morn.

Wandering through a paddock to the shore of this dam, mist rising off the water, silhouette of a eucalypt reflecting off its mirror as the sun's first rays caressed the horizon, I set up my tripod to shoot.

Before me was the slimmest crescent moon possible to be seen, the last before the lunar cycle preceding the impending solar eclipse commenced - poignant as I am about to travel to Turkey to witness totality.

As I turned the camera on and placed my finger upon the trigger, the battery died... Devastation.

Never mind, enjoy the moment, drink it in... but at the same time, lets try to warm the battery with energetic hands as we savour the sight and foretaste of the eclipse to come. Replace battery, pray a silent prayer, aim, turn on, shoot, hold breath...

Click.

Joy.

The moment to share with loved ones and people all over the world.

And a spring in my step as I walked in full appreciation of the beauty of the area, the birds, the animals, the trees, glory abundant.

meet dragon - no fly

2006-02-24T14:09:00.000+11:00

meet dragon - no fly
Originally uploaded by Beautiful wwworld.

The insect world always fascinates and inspires me. What prompted this blog was when the spot I was staring at the wall (little else to stare at when you're on the toilet) started to move. It was then that I realised it was an insect about half a milimetre in length. This train of thought led to the "Life in the Undergrowth" documentary series by David Attenborough, which features an insect far smaller than a pin head, able to leap above the Eiffel tower (in relative terms).

If you realise the amazing insect societies that thrive below and all around us, each full of individuals themselves remarkable feats of evolution, you start to realise how wondrous life on earth is. Remember that there's no way that humankind would survive without the insects!

As for this photo, its part of a beautiful story explained here:
This beautiful dragonfly was drowning in some water. When I rescued him and placed him out to dry in the sun, he obliged me with some pictures before he was dry enough to fly off. As a wonderful reward, I was fortunate enough to see another land at eye level, 1 foot away from me, which then proceeded to vertically launch, zap through mid air to catch an insect in its mouth, after which he returned to the ledge in front of my nose to chew and swallow the insect before my eyes. Wow!!! (That dragonfly is the next in this 'insects' set). I just love the detail in this picture, you can even see the hairs on his leg. Hold your finger up to the screen for relative sizes!

and concluding here:
Matrix Dragonfly

In less inspirational news, be sure to google "march 20th" and hit "I'm feeling lucky". Lets all celebrate!!!

Oh, and if you're fond of kittens, you may not like this: http://www.dansdata.com/kitten.htm

First Blog - inner and outer purpose

2006-02-22T09:06:00.000+11:00

Its difficult to make your first blog entry, so difficult to know what to say. I'm sure there's been countless blogs about this very subject written, blogs about blogs about how to write a blog that tells someone how to make their first blog entry. Given that there are also plenty of blogs starting out like this one, I'll proceed.

The intention of this blog is to distill some of the inspirational beauty that life has to offer - its a method of encouraging myself to observe it, and part of an internal purpose to share it with the world.

This morning is a prime example of the simpleness of this approach yielding personally uplifting results - As simple as observing someone at the tram stop wearing a dog suit, accompanied by a person clad in see-through plastic. Ahhh diversity, got to love it. I'm sure those people were getting all sorts of attention and were the subject of many a lunch-break conversation - lending moments of happiness to the busy people of our city (bless 'em).

I was reading my book today - A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle (Power of Now), and before jumping off the tram, a guy expressed interest in it. I knew that I had caught the tram rather than cycled to work this morning for a reason, but between him, the dog, and the cute girl with strawberry-blonde dreadlocks neatly tied up to match her business attire, I had my reason - and basked in the pleasure this brought.

This realisation, as well as a conversation the previous evening with a heart friend Sal - who showered my in appreciation and love after I just allowed my intuition to guide her through her present momentary crisis, helped me have a minor epiphany. I feel highly motivated to give something to the world, to use my skills to best effect to contribute something of value to the world which has given me so much. I'm fortunate that I've been able to allign my contribution (my work) to my passion - environmental conservation - through working in renewable energy, green buildings, and sustainable living. In this I feel that I've discovered my outer purpose (for the moment), but there's much more to me and to life than this - this is what lies within and drives and guides us.

Eckhart tolle summed it up thus: "I am not saying here that helping others, caring for your children, or striving for excellence in whatever field are not worthwhile things to do. For many people, they are an important part of their outer purpose, but outer purpose alone is always relative, unstable, and impermanent. This does not mean that you should not be engaged in those activities. It means you should connect them to your inner, primary purpose, so that a deeper meaning flows into what you do."

So perhaps this blog forms some part of my inner purpose - which I feel for the moment is to inspire people to live to their potential, in everyday life and in their work. As I sat back and reflected in the afterglow of this realisation, I was pleased to observe the hand grips on the tram moving in synchonous motion, like linked pendulums - a phenomenon which brings me calmness and pleasure.