Haven't heard the rooster for a few days...

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Trump may be the best thing that’s happened to the planet

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When sleeping women wake, mountains move – Chinese proverb I vowed to remove myself from all forms of media, social and otherwise to hibernate from the Trump winter that was about to descend as of the inauguration.   The women’s uprising (what else can you call it?) saved me from my despair, renewed me with hope, made me feel like I was in my own episode of Star Wars and part of the rebellion and revolution against the dark side of the force.   Cos Trump isn’t evil as much as frighteningly normal.   It’s a side of human nature – and its obviously prevalent. Like an outlaw moving into town, shooting up the locals and scaring people, the Trumpster has run roughshod over many painstakingly fought - one wonders what the fuck is he is thinking – the arrogance of the man to think these things are, what? The inane decisions of years of research down the toilet in 4 short days.  It beggars belief…   Unravelled the state medical care package that provided extra and accessible hea
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I can’t keep quiet

I outed myself this week, on Facebook, as a non-pray-er.  This came as a surprise, as I knew it would to many people I had known for a long time.  I grew up in a traditional (and conservative) church, and have been a very authentic and passionate Christian.  But that has changed, but I had not really told many people yet. This blog is, however, about the non-prayer bit, not the Christian-no-more bit – that might come later. In terms of prayer, even as a Christian I never subscribed to the ‘moving the hand of God’ version of prayer nor the ‘asking God to bring-out-the-sun-for-the-Church-picnic type prayers.  I could see no sense in asking God to bring out the sun in New Zealand, when he didn’t seem to bring the rain for the droughts in Africa.  This wasn’t necessarily cos I didn’t think he couldn't, just that he didn't. It just wasn’t the way he worked, for whatever reason.  And asking God to intervene in the behaviour of others seems closer to witchcraft than God-craft.
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Unexpectedly, a village

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Unexpectedly, my daughter (25) and her partner found themselves living with us in the last few weeks of her first pregnancy. They weren’t exactly excited about it. In their ideal imaginings, expecting their much wanted first baby, what they did not expect was to be back in her childhood bedroom, sharing a kitchen, bathroom and living area with her parents and siblings. Becoming an adult in our culture generally involves living independently in your own home, not with the 'olds'. Yet, here they were; pregnant, expectant and unable to nest or set up the baby’s room, or any of the other things she imagined she’d be doing at this time, all she could do, in fact, was rest. While honouring their disappointment, I harboured the suspicion that it was possibly the best thing any new parent could ask for, even though they didn’t realise it, yet. How could they? None of us really knows what to expect before that squishy ball of raw human need enters the world from the soft confines of h
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