Nineteen75

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.

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

It’s the post-Christmas summer holidays.  Our extended family has just spent the week in an environmentally friendly hideaway in the Tararua Ranges.  This eco-house is of straw-bale construction and insulation; situated for sun and powered by solar and wind. Water is provided by an on-site rainwater-tank; and is also process on-site by septic tank and worm/composting ablutions.  As wood-burner stove with a wetback provides a boost to heat the water during winter and low sunlight days.  It’s a great house with high stud and expansive living areas, that not only housed the 10-20 of our holiday-makers, but reminded us that there are different ways to live peacefully on the land.  For a week, we have lived village-style with extra kids, extra adults, cousins, grandparents, sisters, brothers, partners and friends.  We’ve shared cooking, childcare and activities. We’ve eaten together, played games together, fished, swam, sunbathed, ate some more and generally detoxed from our busy lives at

A friend of ours committed suicide this week.  An adult man, mid-forties; two kids and a wife. The funeral is on Friday.  Earlier in the year, a kid in my son’s football team took his life – 13 years old, early secondary school years, nice young man; kind and conscientious.  Many years ago I watched a family deal with the aftermath of their 20-year-old son, brother, grandson taking his own life.  It was a desperate time.  I hope I never have to go through the trauma of losing someone close in this way, especially not a child.  It’s hard to make sense of suicide.  We, the bystanders, need reasons, causes and answers; someone to blame, some thing to blame.  While I don't think its that simple, suicide definitely leaves complexities to add to the grief for those left behind - a dark forrest of scary demons to navigate through - most of them internal; all the ‘what if’s’, and guilt, wondering if I’d been a better parent, better sibling, listened more, loved more, done more.  It’s