“Emotional Archaeology” was bandied about as we talked about where the blog is going. I wasn’t sure if that captured the tone correctly. Was it deep enough? The word “psychotropic” came to mind. On reacquainting myself with the word I discovered it meant “acting on the mind” usually referring to drugs. My thought around psychotropic was in the  deeper sense of “psyche” meaning soul, and “–tropic” meaning turned toward, or having an affinity with. So the blog in a poetic sense felt like it had a “Psychotropic Archaeology” an excavation of my deeper self to develop this sense of a Creative Mythology

A few days prior to this enlightening discussion the thought had come to mind that at its conception a blog is a blank slate yet to be written and each post the same. I choose a subject and the words that will populate the screen and speak to the readers.

A new born is a blank slate when they enter the world. Initially what is written in their psyche is chosen by the environment they inhabit. They take their original cues from their mothers, then fathers, siblings if they have them, and so on until a day comes when they have to select or reject the cues they’ve picked up during their formative years. Their experiences may dictate to them that this or that cue is not working in a certain situation leaving them to wonder if this is really how life is meant to be for them.

And so collectively with Humanity. In its primitive state what might have been the cues taken that evolved into the wars of today? War seems a huge manifestation of an inhumanity wrought in the tribal communities of prehistory. My ponderings coincided with a visit to Wellington to see my children. And the following image struck me as I walked along the waterfront….

What is it that anchors our inhumanity in our collective consciousness?? Can we blame the media for placing images in front us ad nauseam or is there something deeper going on? An opportunity for individual or collective compassion and action perhaps? An opportunity for us to wake up to a collective and personal need to change.  First our inner selves and then the outer manifestation of this inhumanity which seems embedded in our very nature.

As always I rely on my day to day experiences to fuel the blogging fire. What can I excavate from the previous weeks events to furnish the room of understanding. And the inspiration (or is it desperation) to complete this post keeps coming. Only yesterday I received this in my inbox….

I see desperation in the images accompanying the script. And sorrow that the way the world works leads to this.

I have also been trawling through the M*A*S*H series on DVD. Hardly an episode goes by without a tear being shed. There is no dearth of material for an examination of Sacred Sorrow. A couple of episodes stand out…

Dear Sigmund: Sidney Freedman their on-call psychiatrist is spending time at the Unit during which he is composing a letter to Sigmund Freud. The plotline that touched on this inhumanity theme involved a pilot shot down over Korea. His war has consisted of flying missions from Japan dropping his deadly payload and then returning to Japan to spend his off-duty hours with his wife. During his stay at the 4077 he comes face to face with the horror he has wrought in the form of a injured child whose village has been bombed from the Air. A defining moment for him. In a parallel plotline there is a prankster at work in the camp offering some lighter moments. While funny there is something faintly dark about using someone to be the butt of another’s pranks.

Preventative Medicine: A sobering episode where Hawkeye contrives an affliction for a Colonel who has an overwhelming casualty rate, whose achievements as a commander are more important to him than the welfare of his men. Hawkeye has him come down with symptoms akin to an infected appendix which he then removes. The resulting recuperation time means the colonel will be taken off line duty indefinitely.

With his penchant for bringing the ironic to life I often find the voice of Hawkeye in my head….

While we’re on the DVD trail I picked up The Cove a couple of weeks ago not knowing that it would have relevance to the post. The blurb mentioning elite team, covert mission had piqued my interest a while back and it seemed the time to hire it. As the story unfolded the issue of dolphin exploitation and secret slaughter was in the foreground.

Then I received an email showing photos taken in the Faroe Islands where the slaughter of the calderon dolphin was openly acknowledged and was described elsewhere as a rite of passage for young adults males. The images are sickening. Another sorrow of our inhumanity.

And last but definitely not least is a sense that what we create in our lives is related to our predominant thoughts and feelings. Focusing on this theme brought that home for me. The ease of which all this arrived at the threshold of my awareness and then battered down the door seeking sanctuary. So when I turn inwardly and consider further – what are the ways I am wreaking inhumanity on myself and why…..

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Surrender

“Individuation, as a process can be seen at important stages of life and at times of crisis when fate upsets the purpose and expectation of the ego-consciousness.”

E A Bennett – What Jung Really Said

It seems an age since I sat here with a sense of dedication and commitment to my blog, and a need to open my mind further to the possibility that somehow others maybe inspired by what I put in here. It has been twelve weeks at least since my fingers tapped out a new creation for the blog . It almost sounds like I’m in a confessional telling my sins to a priest. Go easy on me.

Since April 2 I have had an insane work schedule, a holiday, a season change in both climate and work, the passing away of a goal, and in orbit around me others have experienced the death of a loved one, hospitalisation, and an overseas move. They all involve surrender, letting go, or what may seem to be our fate.

Surrender is the other side of powerlessness. When we go beyond the anxiety of having fate cast an ugly hand, or the feeling that life has betrayed us somehow, we enter the realm of surrender, the place where trust envelops us and allows us to acknowledge that while difficult our current experience is actually moving us forward.

In Greek Mythology Lachesis, Clotho, and Atropus are the Fates, the Moerae, the three sisters who decide the fates of humans, singing of the experiences we had, that we are having, and the things we will have. Lachesis apportions the lots of fate, Clotho spins the thread of fate and lastly Atropus cuts the thread of fate as we move from life through death, the ultimate surrender, and onwards. And the Fates are attributes of our own souls. We know what has gone before, what is ultimately in our future, and we have an inner knowing of where life is carrying us.

In honouring a relationship with our soul we may be led into experiences that appear to invade our psyches and push us in directions we hadn’t to considered. Surrender is giving up the ways of being that don’t serve us anymore and being open to the possibilities it holds for us, receiving the new experiences life offers us around each new corner.

I acknowledged the passing away of a goal when I noticed coming up against barriers to its fulfilment. The act of surrendering to the release of something I was holding onto allowed a new idea to take its place. This new thought seemed more difficult to bring to fruition and yet it held more promise than the previous one. It fits well with one of my favourite quotes from Neale Donald Walsch – “Live the grandest version of the greatest vision you ever held about Who You Are.” By offering ourselves to this possibility there maybe sadness as we leave behind those ideas we hold about ourselves that have outlived their usefulness.

Bill Plotkin in his book SoulCraft tells the story of Lauren, a woman wandering alone in a sandstone canyon during one of his soulcraft intensives. After she’d been walking for an hour unbidden sensations both emotional and physical left her afraid and struggling. She was in an area surrounded by ancient cliff dwellings and could feel a great sadness emanating from them. This induced a profound experience of grieving, and she left the canyon under the shadow of what Bill terms a soul encounter or initiation. From this she gained the belief she was destined to grieve and assist others in connecting with their own deep sorrow. She received a secret name from the canyon and prepared a naming ceremony in the following three months. After this she went on to drag her feet for a few months until an “accident”, a fall from a horse, forced her into accepting this path that had been chosen by her soul.

Through committment to the tug of soul she now facilitates grieving processes through word of mouth.

Surrender means acceptance of what the present moment holds, of what fate has allotted us right now whatever that may be. In saying that we hold the power to apply meaning and emotion to this current experience. We have choice. We are the architects of our own fate. All we need to do is take up our paddle and move out into the current of our life, honouring both the times when we have a gentle course and also when we enter the rapids and life throws us around, shaking us up and making us more acutely aware and focused on our path. There is power in powerlessness if we allow ourselves to be directed by our hearts and souls, allowing a life that engages the mysteries of existence.

Resources:

Soulcraft: Crossing into the Mysteries of Nature and Psyche Bill Plotkin. New World Library 2003

Animas Valley Institute

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Did you come to raise the dead,

Did you come here to play Jesus

to the lepers in your head?”

“One”

U2

This morning before I got up I entered into a shamanic meditation, a guided meditation to my medicine place. A place of spiritual solace gifted by the Creator, however you perceive him to be. A place to receive guidance, to connect with teachers and guides

Over the past months I have neglected this source being too focused on the tasks in front of me as a Catering Manager. Whenever I have entered the space it has only been experienced superficially – no real depth to the communications within. And again this morning this was so. No depth of experience. While two of my guides were present I felt largely ignored by them, something that I have patently been doing to them.

One of the stimuli for this exploration of Sacred Sorrow was a dream a few weeks ago. In it I had found a piece of land I felt I wanted to buy on a corner in my old neighbourhood. It was an empty section with mounds here and there and hedges in the middle and the surrounds. I went away to source the finance. When I came back there was a bohemian couple living on it. I felt aggrieved that I’d missed out on this property. Not only that but the man came up to me and reached into my pocket and removed a shiny glass ornament, dripping wet, from my pocket with a red and blue symbol embedded in its centre. At the same time a piece of pounamo (jade, greenstone) with crocheted wings flew out of another pocket and alighted on the nearby hedge. I was noticing a sense of deep sadness within me as this unfolded. Underlying the sense these items were being taken away from me was another feeling of them being still present.

There’s a sense of powerlessness in some of the imagery. I know I’ve not been doing myself any favours in other areas of my life. Allowing my addictions a greater hold – TV, computer games, cigarettes, email, coffee. I feel powerlessness as I consider them and the ways I can break the habits.

As I ponder the last thought I see that by transferring that sense of powerlessness on to the objects themselves there are ways to divert myself from the sense of addiction. Seeing the objects as powerless diminishes their hold on me and my sense of personal power grows stronger.

Addictions are certainly manifestations of the “lepers in my head”. The verse in “One” those words come from also include references to forgiveness and raising the dead. By playing Jesus to the lepers in our heads we’re able bring to life that which may lie dead or sleeping within our psyches. Unable to forgive my own faults how can I expect to forgive the faults of others.

How often in the silence of my mind do the lepers take up residence and I hear myself saying I should do this, I should do that, I should have done this, I should have done that!? It occurs typically when feeling a need to confront my addictive ways. I have heard it described as “the tyranny of shoulds” or “shoulding all over myself”. There is a sense of doing things on a whim when should is mentioned. Powerlessness kicks in when I add have to the mix. I missed an opportunity. Poor me and into a downward spiral!

And yet “ONE” holds a positive message as well. As I consider it from a point of powerlessness I see the lyrics pointing towards an impotence in relationship not only with another but also with the world itself. Perhaps the “raising of the dead” can be acknowledged as we work with those parts of ourselves that we have left for dead in the aftermath of shoulds. Can I forgive myself for not standing up and being definitive in the path of a storm of shoulds? Can I hear myself saying I AM or I WILL when a “should” is like looking on the face of the Medusa, poisonous serpents flailing about her head, threatening to turn me to stone.

One love, One blood

One life, you got to do what you should

One life with each other

Sisters, Brothers

One life, but we’re not the same

We got to carry each other, carry each other

Can I find the power within to help myself in turn offering the same to others struggling.

Resources:

Going Home to Your Medicine Place Guided Meditation. Academy of Shamanic Studies

( http://www.shamanic.ac.nz/index.html )
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I have to say that I’ve been in denial about this post for some time. Avoiding it like the plague. Endeavouring to keep my self safe. I should be happy shouldn’t I?? I felt like taking a restraining order out against my psyche and yet Sacred Sorrow seems to be burning a glowing branding iron into my soul. Encounters with people, places, books, movies, myself keep it in the forefront of my mind.

I first became aware of this concept about ten tears (freudian slip or what?) years ago when I granted it visitation rights to my soul. It manifested as a poem.

Keeper of the Sacred Sorrow

From how many lifetimes

Has this holy melancholy

Followed me.

Where is it taking me,

Past and future

Wrapped up in the now?

I make a vow

To follow my heart.

Why has this arrived

To be reconciled?

Where will it lead?

What might it heal

Without knowledge of the wrong

Being righted?

As my soul is laid bare

I gaze upon its naked form

With love.

I see it glowing warm

With the embers of learning.

Knowing that as I perceive the love within

So I can perceive the love without

In the other who is myself.

A choice is no choice when I live in fear,

No choice is a choice when I live with care.

Within that fear I ask a humble why?

Care creates unclouded sky.

This occurred a couple of years after I was gripped by a serious grieving process following the ending of a relationship. I was barely functioning for months. Work at the time was all I could manage. At seemingly random moments I’d be stricken, waves of grief washing up on my shore. Tears arriving from my as yet uncharted depths. Emotions welling up. I’d imagined previously that maybe I’d had some deeper connection to life and here was an indication that perhaps there was an element of superficiality to my existence. It pushed me further into areas I hoped would answer the questions this grief had posed to me. Counselling, psychotherapy, shamanic practices, life-coaching.

So why at this time have I become acutely aware of sorrow and sadness again? I have narrowed it down to three or four ideas that are present for me: powerlessness, man’s inhumanity to man and his fellow beings; the perception that I’m not in a place or job that is nourishing to my soul’s evolution; and possibly the reopening of what is termed the sacred wound. It is not a grieving process but probably indicative of something amiss in my psyche. Am I once again living at the surface of my psyche rather than exploring the depths.

Seems a good opportunity to explore those concepts in the following posts.

Blessings

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Ten Thousand Miles Without a Cloud

Ten Thousand Miles Without a Cloud is written by Chinese author Sun Shuyun who grew up during the cultural revolution. It begins by telling of her childhood in a family lucky enough to be aligned with the communist policies of the day. By virtue of this background Sun Shuyun was able to enter Beijing University to study English. This in turn lead her to being accepted for Oxford University in 1986. Her grandmother though, who was subject to some ridicule by the family, continued to follow the dictates of Buddhism and in particular the figure of a buddhist monk Xuanzang 599-664AD.

Buddhism in the time of Xuanzang had gone into decline and he began a journey along the Silk Road to India and back that took him 18 years to complete. Sun Shuyun follows his journey using modern forms of transport and finds that this Buddhist master is still revered at many points along the journey.

The wisdom that Xuanzang gained on the journey touched and revivified not only those he connected with on his return but also some of the people he met along the way and ultimately the way Buddhist philosophy was more deeply embraced in China. In the same way Sun Shuyun was touched by wisdom as her journey unfolded and she examined her life in the light of not only Xuanzang’s teachings but also through the benefit of hindsight.

There’s a wealth of Buddhist wisdom within the covers. I found it quite serendipitous that she one of the stories she tells of the Buddha, came from a man, Andrew, she met at the site of the Bodhi Tree where the Buddha became enlightened. As they parted company he felt the need to leave this story with her….

Once upon a time a monk came to Bodh Gaya and started praying earnestly to the Buddhist statues Then he thought he saw the Buddha praying to the images too. He was shocked. “You are the Buddha” Why are you praying to yourself?” The Buddha replied: “That is my point. Pray to yourself, not to anyone else.”

Earlier he’d passed on another story the Buddha used to make a point about his teachings…. ….

Coming to a stretch of water a traveller was in desperate need to cross it so he built himself a raft and rowed himself across the river. The Buddha posed a question to his listeners, “What should he do with the raft? Should he decide that it had been so helpful to him that he should load it on his back and carry it with him wherever he went? Or should he simply moor it and continue on his journey. In just the same way, my teachings are like a raft, to be used to cross the river but not to be held on to.”

It seemed quite apt when I watched the movie Nanny McPhee about a widower and his seven unruly children last night. The children take great pride by frightening off all the nannies he employs until the magical Nanny McPhee comes into their life. In the course of her altercation with she utters the following …“When you need me but do not want me I must stay. When you want me but do not need me I must go”.

It fits quite nicely with the analogy of the raft. She was there to carry them to a new understanding of their place in the scheme of things and preparing them for the next phase of their journey.

Following on from Ten Thousand Miles Without a Cloud I began reading the God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. It is an in depth discussion on Atheism looking at the ways religion doesn’t inspire us to an ethical and moralistic world view. He brings observations from his own and others studies showing how science and in particular a Darwinistic outlook can help us see the ideas we need to embrace as human beings aiming to live together in harmony with each other and the natural environment. Similar to Buddhism he sees the concepts of compassion, generosity and charity  present in the Darwinian model of evolution and natural selection.

Whatever it is that can act as a raft to bring us to another shore of understanding in my mind must be beneficial. Within all of these ideas the sense that communities working together for the common good comes through. This cooperation within each particular species whether it be human, animal, insect, is what enables evolution.

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As in “UP” here was a shining example of what I like to think of as Creative Mythology. On the first page there was a reference to Mnemosyne, the Greek Goddess of Memory, mother of the 9 Muses fathered by Zeus. Somehow fitting as each of them seemed to touch her life in some way. Music, dancing, history, love, comedy, tragedy, epic and lyric poetry, and astronomy were all under the governance of the Muses.

The book worked on different levels. Ellen appears to follow a couple of perspectives, that of her spiritual journey and also her journey as an actress. Both combine to evoke a profound life. Simply read as autobiography it gave wonderful insight into Ellen Burstyn and if I’d been unaware of who she is I might have thought I was reading a novel.

Ellen models beautifully the way to craft a life, showing the way to follow a dream, of letting go of the riverbank and moving into the flow. Sure, along the river there are rapids where the ride holds peril and Ellen’s story is not short of those. There are stretches where the river slows and the flow is gentle, allowing her be more conscious of how life is unfolding and she recounts these with keen attention.

I was moved by her struggles with addictions and relationships and how they mirror my own. She spoke of them with detachment observing them from the writers perspective seeing how she was touched by them at that time but now no longer. I’d like to say that for the me that’s still working with them.

I was enchanted by her life. So much so that I had to read it a second time. I noted passages and pages that spoke to me. The one that is sitting with me now is one I didn’t note. She talks about working with and being mentored by Lee Strasberg of the Actor’s Studio. The feeling I got from the passage was that what is happening in the moment whether part of the performance or not, is perfect not only for the performance but also perhaps for the actor’s life outside of her art. And so it is for all of us being able to perceive the perfection in the present moment. That was brought home for me as I watched the trees from the kitchen window seeing them in the early morning light noticing a nuance I hadn’t seen before and reflecting on Ellen’s perceptiveness as she notices the nuances of characters as her roles evolved.

In another profound passage she tells of being drawn into learning through doing crossword puzzles and as she discovered new words she was initiated into study. I can imagine there was a sort of a family tree evolving as she was led from a reference in one book to seek out another. Looking always for what might be the ultimate truth, that truth that will allow us to live fully in the present. And being aware, as Sartre said, of a “God-shaped hole in my heart.” Wow.

Ellen confronts her fears and has epiphanies on her journey. She meets some of the 20^th century’s more famous people outside of the acting fraternity and is touched by these encounters.

Her strong connection with Sufism as a spiritual path because it honours the wisdom of all religious traditions again mirrors my own experience.

Ellen never shys away from seeking help in understanding herself when confronted by an aspect of her psyche with which she was uncomfortable and thence taking another step to becoming fully alive, fully present.

The photos from her personal collection show Ellen’s evolving radiant beauty while her roles show the diversity of characters she played.

The latter stages of her path were spent without companionship. It was a beautiful ending to find her under the auspices of the god Eros.

Blessings

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Russell remains on the porch of Carl’s house. He has interrupted Carl’s plan to use some old stock left over from his time as a Balloon salesman. Carl begins filling the balloons with helium and the house wrenches itself from its piles and starts floating away with Russell still on the porch. Again he knocks at the door. This time there is no turning back and Russell is along for the adventure. Carl is flying his house to Paradise Falls.

Significant in my life are the storms that have arrived shaking me up and whipping me onwards.  They are also beset by a storm which does the same and carries them close to their destination – they land on top of a ravine overlooking Paradise Falls. With their combined weight as ballast they begin to trek round the ravine pulling the house along with them. It seemed as though Carl was doing most of the work even though Russell was also attached to the rope that was connected to the house.

Reminding me of hero’s journey on the trek there are areas of wasteland, they encounter allies, in the form of a dog called Dug that has a collar enabling speech and also a colourful bird that Russell names Kevin. There are also challenges on the path. The bird turns out to be the one also being sought by Charles Muntz who has become obsessed over it to the point of paranoia. He has a pack of vicious dogs that are searching for Dug who was sent out to track Kevin. I can see in the image of Muntz the seeming obsessive requirements of consumerism and materialism, always wanting the next best thing, not knowing how to let go of the need.

I see the character of Dug as a representation of innocence, a key step on a journey towards a soul consciousness. Kevin, this colourful mythical bird, I believe symbolizes the soul itself and Muntz’s obsession with discovering it actually denies him the experience. It is Carl’s humble embracing of adventure to honour Ellie’s memory and his acceptance, albeit grudging, of Russell a motif for his inner child that has allowed him this one-on-one encounter with his Soul.

Things deteriorate as Muntz becomes psychotic when he discovers Kevin is with Carl and Russell. Muntz flies his airship to the Falls where he makes off with Kevin and sets Carl’s house on fire. The flames dowsed Carl heads off in pursuit of Russell who followed Muntz to get Kevin back.

This seemed to be a key moment in the movie for me as Carl has to ditch all of his household effects to allow the balloons to lift the house off and after Muntz and indeed this maybe required by the soul wanting us to be conscious of it – the releasing of attachment to material things.

Carl catches up to Muntz and following a duel, Russell, Kevin and Dug are saved while Muntz falls to his death. Kevin is returned to her chicks. Carl, no longer grudgingly, but lovingly accepting of Russell takes him back to the city where he stands in as a father figure when Russell receives his badge and becomes a Senior Wilderness Explorer. Carl has a new lease on life becomes a volunteer in the community providing mentorship to not only Russell but also other young people.

Akaroa Heads

I took this prior to producing this post and the sense is that soul consciousness is like sailing out past the heads to the ocean beyond. There maybe an initial sense of emptiness. But within that there is also a sense of potential and possibility with new waters to navigate and new lands to discover when we leave the safety of the harbour and engage in our new found awareness of life.

Blessings

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Click Here for the Trailer

I am quite fond of the word constellate. It aptly describes the way ideas form as I consider a new post. The inspiration for this came from seeing “UP ” from Pixar. A brilliant example of Creative Mythology.

Three generations of our family have seen it and thought it was magic. The animated format sat well with my nephews. And both my sister and mother were touched by it.

The first half of the story tells of two childhood friends, Carl and Ellie growing up, getting married, coping with the discovery she can’t bear children, allowing their life to unfold without manifesting their dream, the wife then contracts an illness and dies. This connects me to my own mortality and my own seemingly frustrated aspirations. The second half follows the husband drawn into an adventure with a young boy who needs to assist an elderly person in some way to enable him to become a fully badged “ Senior Wilderness Explorer”.

This second act of the story triggered my imagination seeing it as symbolic of a journey to be become fully conscious. While the opening seemed to form the background for the rest of the story as I considered it more deeply I found it held as much symbolism as the second. There was much to stir both thoughts and emotions.

Thomas Moore describes children in Soul Life his audio retreat as being “raw carriers of soul”. This attribute was borne out by the curiosity of the two children in “UP” and their first meeting in the derelict house. With further thought I see them as the male and female elements of the psyche and the house as being the soul before one begins to sense a connection to the divine. An attitude of curiosity is essential as we walk upon the earth even though it may lead to injury as happened to Carl as he listened to Ellie daring him to be adventurous in this rickety old house. Carl winds up in hospital.

They are both excited by an explorer, Charles Muntz who is introduced early in the movie having found the bones of a previously undiscovered bird and he then goes off to “Paradise Valley” to search further for a living specimen telling everyone he won’t return until he has one. Consequently he disappears. Carl and Ellie wish to search for this childhood hero, find “Paradise Valley” and the bird. Ellie begins a scrapbook for this adventure.

They get married and buy the derelict house and begin to do it up. A jar with the words “Paradise Valley” on it sits on the mantle piece and they put all their spare cash in it for the trip. Life intervenes and the money they’re putting aside gets used for other things.

Doing up the house could be seen as working on our relationship with the sacred and the marriage as the union of the divine male and female.

Ellie becomes depressed when she finds out she’s infertile. I sensed the tragedy and sadness. And yet in these times of consumerism and materialism perhaps it points towards the rejection of our inner children. The playfulness and wonderment seem to get lost in the striving for the next best thing.

Life carries on then Ellie gets sick and the doctors are unable to do anything for her. Perhaps we’ve also lost connection to the feminine energies in our strivings. Carl sadly lays Ellie to rest and seems lost without her, taking on the aura of a grumpy old man. Until one day there’s a knock on the door…..

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View of Auckland from Kelly Tarltons

From the quiet of a rural and fishing community surrounded by the smells of the bush, songs of the birds, the vibrant spring greens of the land to the buzz and busyness of the Auckland CDB.

From simple functional food when I’m not feeding groups at YMCA Wainui to eating breakfast, lunch and dinner out. Street cafés, food courts, restaurants all calling me to taste their delights.

I’d planned the trip a couple of months ago to meet up with my son, Zach and daughter, Sam complete with new boyfriend Tim in Auckland to see Alice Cooper on his Theatre of Death tour. The description enigmatic was made for Alice.

I’d heard somewhere that he led a bible study group and this was confirmed in an episode of Rove Live I’d watched a week prior to the concert. Definitely enigmatic. Then there’s his passion for golf. In an interview with Peter Williams he described how golf had become his saviour after he’d committed himself to rehab. He told of waking in the morning and starting the day with a drink, a classic sign of alcoholism. He had great hand-eye co-ordination which served him well playing baseball as a child. When seeking an outlet to substitute his addiction he was drawn to golf and the hand-eye co-ordination came to the fore again. After a first lesson his coach called him a natural. He plays off a handicap of 4.

I was interested to hear him differentiate between being cured and healed of his addiction. In his shift from rehab back to everyday life with his attraction to golf he felt this was a healing rather than a cure. That there was something of a higher power involved rather than simply a cure.

An addiction healed, golf, bible study, theatre of death. All these coexisting in one person. He said something else that stuck with me in the interview as he considered the difference between his experience and that of a couple of his contemporaries whose addictions had taken their lives, “Don’t become your image”. He felt that in trying to live up to their images others of the rock fraternity had got lost. In projecting an image to the world it is mirrored back through the expectations of those you connect with. Are those towering buildings with mirror glass reflecting the world around them trying to tell us something?

BNZ Tower mirroring adjacent building

The beauty of enigma is that it poses questions . It is deeper than a simple riddle and therefore requires us to question the deeper parts of our psyche. Who am I when I let go of an image I’m hoping the world will see? Am I being all that I can be when I see Alice Cooper being all that he is? Is enigma another way of saying eccentricity ?

Having said all that I’m not sure whether it was the exertions of the working week or perhaps in the midst of the raw energy of the rock performance an overstimulation of the senses but yours truly found himself wanting to close his eyes and go to sleep. Now that seems enigmatic too. I love the music of Alice Cooper and here am I wanting drift off. Strange. And it was brilliant to be a part of the experience.

Visiting Kelly Tarlton’s Underwater World the following day also turned an idea I’d had about the world upside down and at the same time seemed perfect. Watching 240 kg Stingrays, the same species, one of which had sunk a barb into the chest of Steve Irwin killing him, placidly circling on the edge of the tank appearing to play up to those watching. Seeing their carer place her hand in their mouths to feed them had me feeling I’d love to get in the tank and help feed them when I’m next there. I had to ask the question and was blessed with a yes. Awesome. Curiouser and curiouser.

Not so curious but interesting was going to Victoria Park Market and expecting it to be the vibrant entity it had been been when I was living in Auckland only to find it a shadow of its former self.

And the precious – spending time with my children all grown up and doing their own thing. Looking forward to the next time we gather for an event and making a weekend of it.

Blessings

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