I was made for Afternoons

the lull continues 08 09 just days of distant past another man another life same issues same gifts less strength perhaps more insight hopefully deeper if not wider still keeping the flame still asking why still wanting more still wanting it all dreaming hoping praying looking for the secret key looking through the dross looking for signs  of love of life these days of christmas the day itself slip sliding away continue the celebration we cook we eat we drink we share with friends we recover we sleep - lots - the heat suffocating the sport awful pages if new books turned music played repeatedly emails ignored happy christmas season my friends n fiends god be with  you

my soul is tired but my hands want to keep being busy my mind restless but full of plans the days of christmas and summer stretch before me like fresh paper a beach in winter a monks cell these days of opportunity a paradox to not do: is to heal is to just be: frustrating leaving the year behind and moving forward a challenge. Sleep. Wine. Silence. Prayer. Zen. Friends. Walks. Love. My solution.

day of sun of coffee and pancakes of endurance through long afternoons (Which as you are aware - I was made for) today's theme at the temple life after death the great wide open (to quote Tom P) the beyond when love finally conquers all . . . strange how death brings up so many emotions for us fear dread denial as if that breath you just took will go on forever the older i get the less i fear perhaps I am just fooling myself but there is nothing to fear in the hands of the mystery in the end there is only love to be loved is to be held to be safe to be known for who you truly are St Iraneus used to say be fully alive for there is no greater return for the gift of life i want to feel it all to go deep to do the really true stuff to discover who I am who you are sometimes this is all too much it requires too much leaving too much unknowing which makes me panic and freeze but we must go on when the last breath is taken the l

some days just blah who am i kidding? what do i know about entering the mystery? about anything actually i get insecure i get lost i get confused i stuff up i stuff down two steps forward and one step back now, i know freends this is just the way of it but geezzzzzeeee you'd think after all this time on the road i'd be a little surer a little sounder. this way of casting off is not the easy path its the listening game to yourself to the other to the mystery only travelling with what is needed the one word the single sign the burning coal i do know i believe in love this stays with me when everything else seems to leave i'm a sucker for the romantic the boy meets girl magic makes the world go round and if it goes right then we are all the better for it its only the little story of the big one the love which enfolds sustains creates forgives and renews but still it matters to me. i hope you are in love my friends. i h

Land flies by a white sphere carrying the future generations father son and princess southerly direction the great highway opens before us: the future the present the past all meld into one flying through the outback suburbs blur train lines join and straighten great power line monsters pace their way across acres of subdivision and chalk markings children cry puppy alternates between wake and sleep we visit the elders we cook and talk and discuss the old time the puppy brings some joy to the bed bound the children bring joy to them all I sit and take it all in for once aware of the moment of its awe of its mystery these days will not always be these too will pass away i will be left i will grieve and i too will pass away in that moment I thought of all those I love of my dearest friends and companions of the great love mystery which enacted us to be drawn together i was thankful i was awed i was humbled by all the love shown to me you who read this are part of this mystery too for

today was a gathering a meeting a celebration for some. sometimes - in truth, often - it is hard enter the mystery at corporate rituals. simplicity is lost replaced by fussiness a sense of unnatural drama inane music but it is all of a high quality which is what the world demands i long to again tread the abbeys quiet boards to softly chant the ancient lines to still the body quiet the mind allow space and time to speak to me not continuously rally against people and systems that don't understand or want to enter the depths. aching shoulders bear the days burdens even when there is nothing worth carrying.

days lengthen my nights creep slowly shorter early morning calls courtesy of the  new infant canine papers and caffeine the rituals to mark another day week ends what a seven days celebration and pain mystery and mayhem young and old births and deaths beginnings and endings friendship hope loss light darkness in its centre i stand some sort of spiritual hobo worn  yet alive bringing old gifts of truth trust comfort and love sometimes tearful sometimes bemused sometimes just me its been a week if i erred with you friends my apologies and if i helped thank your deity.

beginnings of heat desert wind n uncomfortableness the western south land hides in their transport their castles their place of employ the young are sent out under guise of health only to wilt gently amongst themselves these days the drought of the soul parched land even though summer has just begun bleeding life energy from all it touches I would chase autumn if I could winter n darkness not this endless light n heat restlessness is all pervasive from fitful sleeps to days filled with a sort of dread the heat becomes all consuming all powerful all resistance is useless I give into its pull its gentle allure promises of slowness and sleep and I   gradually fade away

Why Australia should see a hung parliament as a sign of growing up. So, finally, it’s over. One of the most boring, nasty and downright uninspiring election campaigns this country has ever seen. Neither major party had much to say, apart from repeatedly publically denigrating the other on issues large, small and irrelevant. The result? A thoughtful and generally unimpressed public made the decision we all foresaw: a tie. Choosing the best from a bad bunch had never been more difficult. The next few days and weeks will be a monumental time in Australian politics, with the possibilities of major political and social change, not to mention the balance of power in the lower house, lying with the four or five independent and minor parties. Will our political system be able to cope with the possibilities of the two established parties no longer been able to call the shots, and issues which feature broadly in regional and country Australia for once been given legitimate consideration and

Thanks to a conservative blog for peace I have become quite intrigued by with US series “Mad men”. For most Australians this is quite an unknown program, the second series being premiered this Sunday night on specialized broadcaster SBS, leaving us well behind the US which is currently airing the fourth series. For those who don’t know, Mad Men takes place in the early 1960’s, varying its setting between the main characters Advertising office workspace, their homes and social lives. As the series progresses we discover that the characters are not at all what they seem, both outwardly and inwardly, as we journey with them through the historical events and changing social patterns which have influenced so much of our modern culture. It is this historical element which captured me. The ways husbands, wives and children inter-related. The constant smoking and drinking. The more relaxed pace of life. Infidelity and the subsequent risks and consequences. Psycho-analysis just beginning

Or why religion should never be discussed during the soccer. Friday and Saturday are all about soccer in our house. The prince plays indoors on Friday nights (which he loves) and outdoors early on Saturday morning (about which he, is fairly ambivalent about because it interrupts his café breakfast and tv time). He plays in a local “Christian” League (read here: Protestant). It suits us because the games are on Saturday and that means we can still get to Mass with the kids and at least have Sundays as some sort of rest day. After a few weeks of standing on the sidelines you get to know a few of the other parents who brave the early winter mornings. The usual questions as follows: What do you do? (A sort of Chaplain) Oh okay, Where? (an inner city school). Isn’t that a catholic school? (Yes it is). Insert long pause here. So are you a catholic? (mumble. Yes - a convert). Insert longer pause. You should talk to so and so’s dad. He’s a catholic too I think – but he goes to a charis

The kids were back to school this week, and it is a fairly well established fact the first week of term is designed to make teachers forget that they had a holiday at all. Last week was no exception – work was busy with the usual things, there were music and sport events for the prince and poet, social interactions to attend, study to complete and the weekly round of shopping, cleaning and cooking. Nothing out of the ordinary for a middle class family. Why then, are we always so tired? For most people I know, the working week goes by in a flurry, leaving Friday night and weekends for a round of vapid social events, home maintenance and some time with the kids. Which leaves only Sunday to prepare for the next draining five days. Is this any way to live a life? What ever happened to Music, Dance or Art? Restaurants are busier than ever but they push patrons through with a startling rapidity leaving no time to enjoy a lingering meal over a decent conversation (and it goes without sayi

Maybe Jamie, Nigella or George and Gary can save our lives I was lucky to grow up in a family in which food was something to be cherished and valued. I remember being vaguely pleased, if a little surprised, at been given a pig’s ear by a friendly butcher at the Vic Markets as a little boy, when we went for weekly supplies.  Food was part of the fabric of our lives and the meals ranged from hot curries to stir fries to roasts with all the trimmings, not to mention the traditional Friday night fish and chips from the jovial Greek fishmonger up the road. Flashback, Australia in the 1970’s. Most of my friends were been served a steady diet of meat and three vege for dinner and polony sauce sandwiches for lunch. Wine was for the Europeans, beer for Aussies and the only time you saw Roast Chicken was in a greasy KFC wrapper or on the dining table at Christmas.  But changes were soon to come. My own food journey began when I first moved out of home. I cooked the dishes I grew up

The aim of this page is to write about 500 words a week about something which matters to me, and maybe you too . . . I turned 41 a week ago – but save your celebration or tears and call me a therapist.   Last year I celebrated the beginning of my midlife with friends and wine and music at a friendly inner city café. It was a great night and some time later I thought “40’s don’t seem so bad, let the adventure begin!”  I was in good health, I had plans, I was more financially secure than ever, I was loved, I was happy. 2011 finds me with all of that still holding true, Global Financial Crisis notwithstanding. Despite all these positives, I can’t seem to shake a nagging sense of worry about myself, and about the future. The experts have been telling us for years (and please don’t expect me to quote them directly) that the world is changing at an ever-increasing rate, and that we’d all better get used to it. I can almost feel it in my bones. What worry’s me is not change, I’m a ge

Dear Friends,  In a desperate attempt to try and remain hip and relevant, I am giving a spring clean to some elements of this page so that it reflects my current interests, passions and misdirected beliefs. I am always open to your recommendations however. Stay tuned. Chris 

well well here we again time is slipping n here is the future quick recount 41 years wife prince n poet music coffee great coffee actually food wine friends loving god work study home not a bad collection really but like a shadow only   in the brightest of lights out of the corner of my eye skulking in a a corner change is beckoning . . . . socrates question continues with a deeper significance as the years become decades “how shall I live” ponder: what does that mean live: this question reality: am I happy? What have a missed? are my ethics ok ? do I know why I do the things I do? how are my relationships? what about the mystic transcendent life? how do I spend my cash? have I taught the prince and poet how to live deeply and freely? regrets . . . I’ve had a few but this treadmill life makes me weary I get my energy in the cold In the rain n sleet I need to time to rest n study n cook but life demands work work work who decided this was ok ? who decided that to have time to b

To badly misuse C S Lewis, "A middle aged man can't be too carefully with his reading". Or more importantly, beware what you take home with you from the Abbey! In my usual raiding of the Abbey reading room ( I am very spoilt in been allowed to borrow from the monks) I came across this large tomb, "Literary Converts". A great book. A fantastic read. Food for my soul. It recounts the spiritual journeys, generally to the Roman Catholic Church but not exclusively, from the late 19th centuries until the last quarter of the 20th. Great writers and great people are discussed. Tolkien, Lewis, G K Chesterton, Hilaire Belloc , Ronald Knox, C S Lewis, Graeme Green, Evelyn Waugh and so the list goes on.  As I look back, I think reading the Narnia series changed me and started this journey. Inside,  it made me long for something. Something mysterious and perhaps, just out of reach. I have talked before about this being a sense of " Northerness ",  a need for m

In these post easter days I have been reading extensively on (soon to be Saint) John Henry Cardinal Newman. My love for Newman stems from his influence on the anglo-catholic spiritual heritage of the first part of my life, who along with his brothers Pusey and Keble, sought to bring the fullness of the Catholic faith to what was at the time, an all pervading evangelical Anglicanism. Newman was a reluctant to be received into the church, as was I initially, but his continued reading and praying, like me, led him there. John Henry was on a constant search to find the sources of the faith, and was especially influenced by the early Greek and Latin Fathers. Reading Newman seriously, in both historical and spiritual writings has impressed on me the importance of really understanding why I believe the Catholic faith to be true. Newmans genius was in being able to see very clearly the issues of his time and without being afraid, challenge heresies and misinterpretations with both compassio

one moment celebrating drinking laughing remembering then he's down on one knee towel bowl taking us all by surprise silent serious as if the weight of the world hung on this action alone we are reluctant we argue we fight but we with our eyes agog our hearts aflame watch it unfold then bread becomes body wine blood our slow minds can't grasp depth wonder food for a journey the tears in his eyes sacramental my lasting memory

A quick round up, basically for myself, but you may be interested to check out some of these sites for yourself if you visit this beautiful land I am beginning to wonder if my sense of longing for "Northerness" is really a longing for New Zealand. Best Coffee in Nelson, New Zealand : Morrison Street cafe Best Peanut Butter: Really Good Peanut Butter (No Kidding!) Kids Favourite NZ soft drink: L&P (lemon and paeroa) Favourite Brewery and Cider Maker: Macs Best Ice cream in the Known Universe: Penguinos Cheap, good, kids Clothes you can buy online: JK's Great way to travel around New Zealand: Trans Scenic Railway

late night chats with family driven by daylight saving twilights late morning sleep ins tea and toast shopping daze lunch on the run new everything but some reassuringly familiar jandles n trundlers LnP and macs windy beaches children giggling emails sent cafes visited in the hope of a perfect long mac new adventures plans made then remade old friends missed places rediscovered vibe embibed dreams hopes longings holy holidays

well then here we are. is it the beginning or the end a new decade or another year of the naughties? oh the debate the hours spent wondering the newspaper reports why are they wasting our time on this stuff? got a sort of breezy this is going to be a good year sort of feeling wanting to make some changes in small ways in big ways in sort of in your face way but i'm too well aware of my own laziness to post 'em here but needless to say i want to stretch my intellect and probably my muscles too eat less but better same goes for wine slow down listen to all things must pass over and over read think write play love another year beckons.