Sunday morning of the Queen's birthday long weekend. I swear the local wallabies know when it's the weekend. They are more numerous on the road during the day. We've had five killed on our short 6km dead end street already this season. Have a suspicion who is the culprit but of course it can't be proven. Desire to erect a large billboard saying Humans 5, Wallabies 0. But that would only inflame those who didn't give a damn before into upping the score. In favour of humans.

We have a new bird hanging around. A scarlet robin. The first year we moved here we saw a rose robin. Once. Like the Regent's bowerbird. Don't know what changed in the environment to make them disappear but disappear they did. So it's a real buzz to see a brand new (for us) bird in the center round garden. And he's very beautiful. Scarlet and black. Bold too, not very shy of me and I was only 4 or 5 feet away from him.

Another snippet in our wildlife scene. It's winter here yet we have a very determined frog calling Tok Tok Tok through the night and sometimes through the day. He lives in the fernery. When it is very cold his call is slow. I counted 23 to 36 seconds between Toks. When it is warmer, it's anything from 2 to 6 seconds. His Tok sounds like a mallet gently tapped against a hollow log. Have no idea what kind of frog (or toad for that matter) he is but admire his tenacity - and am a little alarmed that he's working so hard at a time when he should be taking it easy.

My dizziness has not disappeared yet. Because I think that dis-ease can reflect what's going on subconsciously, I wondered what the spinning out represented. The description 'spinning out' describes it; a mind out of control. My attempts at meditation, while regular are sporadic. Might start and find that Richard has returned or is banging about inside. Was going to close the wooden external door as a message that I was meditating but just can't be that cruel to confine him to the cold while I'm in the (relative) warmth. And that's another problem. It's too cold in this house, even with the heater going, to sit still for any length of time without getting chilled. So at any rate, while I do try and meditate it's not as regular or as long a session as I'd like. But there is an unlooked for side effect of meditation, even if the meditation is unsuccessful: awareness of thought. What's come to my attention are the layers which operate at the same time. I've never noticed before that there is the topmost layer which is the layer I'm writing this blog with. Beneath that might be a snatch of a song on an endless repeating loop and beneath that is a word or phrase. The other day it was Sam Stosur the tennis player, her name repeating like a mantra beneath the few notes of some old song (which always comes to the fore during the white noise of vacuuming). I had no idea so much mindless activity was going on with my mind's desperate bid to be kept busy. Why? Why must the mind always be kept busy? What's so scary about silence?

So that was a revelation, that my mind could and did work on many levels. At the same time I realized I was having these flashes of silence, when all the layers were quiet and still. Perhaps that was always happening but I hadn't noticed it. Those brief respites from chatter stand out by their sheer peacefulness, so much so that I start thinking about what's happening and lose it!

What has that to do with dizziness? I'm not sure. It has improved. I've managed to do backbends during yoga again although I must do it in stages. I've also managed to look up towards my outstretched hand during half moon and triangle poses. I notice the dizziness is worse when I look up over my left shoulder. I cannot quite look at my hand, only toward it but figure I am retraining myself so that is only a matter of time. I do a lot of deep breathing, hoping to breathe through this little health hiccup. Having always had low blood pressure I don't believe it is high blood pressure nor do I think I have an inner ear infection or a tumour or some such thing. The vertigo is an anomaly which is a helpful guidepost to illustrate something I need to bring into awareness. At least that's what I tell myself and mostly believe. The alternative is not a pleasant prospect.