Can't sleep.  Up at sparrow's fluff, timed it for a second hot flash so I could race to the loo and then into the bathroom before the sweat had dried.  Heater on, bathmat against the door, where Natalia tries to pull it through, while washing and getting dressed.  Then back into the cold where three expectant cat faces, one, Natalia mewing piteously, while I get their breakfast.  Natalia in the laundry room with her CD, Matisse on the fridge and Nairobi on the floor with their Science Optimal.  Coffee made, bird dishes set out and woodburner fueled and flickering. 

Sky turning grey.  There's a cow lowing to the north but not even the kookaburras have called yet.  The willie wagtails sing through the night but the kookaburra is Australia's version of the cockcrow.  We have several living around here.  The kurrajongs have come down from the mountains for the winter.   No, wait I'm wrong.  Just heard the first bird.  Not a kookaburra but a butcherbird, the warbler of the woods.  It and the gerygone have the best songs.  The gerygone is the prettiest but the butcherbird is the more ethereal.

The Annihilation of Buddhism

Have been reading up on Buddhism, the person, the history, the various forms and the art.  I've been interested in Buddhism for many years but have always had a problem with its tenets.  It makes sense in some ways but there is one fundamental flaw.  The extent to which non-attachment is taken.  No desire; for things, people, emotions (including the desire to feel joy), ideas, even to have a spirit or soul.  Complete annihilation of everything.  Nihilism equals nirvana. 

There was a program on telly the other night which explored the life and death of the universe.  In trillions upon trillions of years the stars will all dissolve, there will be no light only photons diffused through a space empty of all mass, even I suppose of time, for nothing will change.  And, the presenter, said, from that point nothing will change.  There would be no time for there would be no changes to mark time.  I thought it must be something like dissolving ink in a glass of water.  When the drop first hits the water it would evolve into strings and spirals and shapes.  With time the ink would be equally dispersed into the water and from that point, like the dead stars, it would not, could not, resume its former shapes and of course never coalesce into that first drop.  There would only be dead, faintly tinted water.  

So there's part of the problem for me.  I don't want to be dissolved into a dead universe with no time, no change, no light.  And it seems wrong to want it so.  This earth, a bright blue ball, the only living thing that we know of, is a jewel.  It's like going to a party where the hostesss has gone to great lengths to decorate the room, has spent hours in the kitchen cooking my favourite foods, has found special unique gifts that are sure to delight me yet when I arrive I go sit in a corner, do not acknowledge the effort that has gone into the party, and worse,  act and believe it was all a cruel illusion on the hostess' part to keep me from my true destiny which is the death of everything, including me.  I don't mean just physical death but death of my soul as well.

I often experience that 'oceanic feeling' that Jung wrote about.  It's not hard.  I only have to look at Nature with an awareness of its beauty, its majesty, its miraculousness to get that lift in my heart.  Trees do it for me as does the sky or the stars at night.  Being alive is a blessing.  And death?  Death will be a release for one does get tired.  I  get foreshadowings of that but it's not a bad thing.  It's all part of the deal.  Light and dark.  Beauty and wretchedness.  It's the Package Deal of Life.  I'm willing to play.  Perhaps there will come a time, when I've had my one millionth reincarnation, that the warbling of a white throated gerygone no longer means anything but background noise.  If that happens then I will welcome annhilation.  When beauty eludes me I will already be dead. 

Almost a month since writing here.  Computer disaster.  Lost everything, including my novel, as I didn't back up (lesson learned!).  With hours of phone calls and a visit from Dell tech support (the first time), I got back online with a computer system as new as a recently unpacked computer.  Have learned alot which is a good thing. 

Missed entering a couple of drawings into the local exhibition  as I couldn't get the photos from camera onto computer.  I thought at the time that maybe that was a good thing as the drawing should be an end in itself rather than a competition.  I can be optimistic about most anything!  Anyway, since then I've done a couple of paintings with oil pastel.  One is finished and so colourful.  Beautiful vivid colours.  Not complicated but I like looking at it which is the point of the exercise.  The second one is almost finished.  They are learning exercises.  Oil pastels are different than chalk pastels and require a different approach.

Have started sugar soaping the walls in the living room.  The quarry court case has been delayed until September.  Either way the living room will be repainted.  A safe blue-grey if we sell and a deep dark red if we stay.  R is a bit worried about the red but I don't feel like playing safe anymore.  Yes, it might make us feel hotter in summer but it will help us feel warmer in winter.  With a worm hole skylight in the living room (another thing we'll do if we stay) the space won't look like a puncture wound.  Big plans if we stay and rather exciting to think about.  New aviaries for the birds, skylights, new decks, a safe outdoor cat area in the fernery, insulation; these are just a few things that spring to mind.  But if the quarry goes ahead, it's full steam ahead to move.  Either way life will be busy. 

Meditating after yoga.  Although I don't get to do it every day I do notice a subtle change.  Practice, although not making perfect, does help.  Of course the more I do it the more I am amazed at how easily I am distracted.  The trick is realising quickly that I'm thinking.  I am better at catching myself.  Maybe that's the only true improvement of these past few months.  Amazing that yoga has made such a difference to my life.  I notice the days that I miss the mat.  My health is better, my flexibility vastly improved, my breathing, despite still being a smoker, improved.  Yes, I know, terrible thing to do yada yada yada.  Believe me, I have the entire non smoking dialogue on repeat in my head.  Nevertheless, I smoke and I like it.

Amy Winehouse died yesterday.  Prayed for her to be at peace.  Everything in her favour, talent, quirky beauty, great jazz voice, youth and lost it all in a vein.  Got a residual feeling like I did at eight years old when Marilyn Monroe was found dead, thinking, arrogantly no doubt, that if only she'd had a friend who could help.  But that is an arrogant attitude for someone  has to want to be helped and  Amy and MM didn't.  Must be a terrible burden to have all this fame and feel, deep in your innermost self, that you're a fraud.  Don't we all feel that way sometimes?  I know I do.  Alcoholics and addicts beat their disease all the time but they have to love themselves enough to feel they deserve to be well. 

The people in Norway didn't have a choice.   Such a good looking young man, with opportunity and education, the world as his oyster and he threw it away along with 92 others.  He may have couched his murdering spree in rhetoric but he is just mad.  And famous.  Was that his point?  Fame at any price?  He was eager to confess.  Norway's maximum sentence is 25 years.  Perhaps that's a small price to pay for notoriety.

Dimitri is now taking seed and corn segments from my hand through the penthouse cage (his safe perch reached via a ladder through an old compost bin).  He's also taking seed from my fingers while I'm seated on the floor.  Plan to use the target stick to get him to step up onto my hand.  Not that I can ever stand with him.  He takes fright too easily and would plummet to the ground but it would be nice to have him perched on my arm while I feed him treats.  Would like to train him to allow me to scratch his head but as that is a 'dead man' behaviour it would be difficult.  Just know that once he was comfortable with head scritches he'd love it, especially when he's got those new porcupine feathers in.