moments with murray

Born on March 23^rd, 1925, at 88 years old, Murray is my oldest friend. New York born and bred with a sharp wit and an endearingly gentle manner – I had the honour of sharing my last month or so in New York in the Upper Westside apartment of this dear soul.  Murray is the Father in Law for Jeff, the Founder of The Dream Flag Project, which is how we met and we quickly found a kindship in our shared love for nature, photography and poetry.

Murray has his quirks, his incredibly warm apartment with the radiators tuned to the hottest reminded me of the Bikram studio and his likeness for classical music was a wonderful soundtrack to our time shared. Murray lost his wife last year that he’d been married to for 53 years. While I’m sure he knew how to deal with his loss, as a now retired psychotherapist, I sensed the weight of his loss while I was there. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her” he said to me once as I admired all the stunning pictures of the life they shared together on display in his apartment. Heartbreak and grief had weighed down his spirit and I hope at the least my bouncing optimism and poetry recitals may have lightened the days we shared. I know the night I transformed his living room in to a movie theatre is marked high in the box of beautiful memories on the road while we enjoyed The Princess Bride together and it concluded with "You know what's funny, for a moment then, I thought I was at the movies" in his beautiful New York accent.

Given his background, I wanted to ask Murray some questions on life. I knew someone who'd had countless people lying in the proverbial horizontal position recounting their life stories probably enlightened him muchly to the human condition. 

So I asked my very grounded and rational friend “Murray, do you believe in God?”

His response was a flat-out “No”.

So then I asked… “So what do you believe in?”

To which he responded so eloquently in silence using only his fingertip as he drew on the dinner table a big giant question mark.

His faith in the mystery of life is something so simple and yet in this day so distant to what many ideas people conform to. We have created so many stories that we cling on to and many people follow them blindly without experiencing the mystery (or for me the magic)… These ideas that have been cause for war and social disharmony while also leveraged by politicians in powerful places to manipulate its people.

I have no issue with faith. It’s powerful and at times all that's been left. But perhaps faith in something that is silent, that just is, that doesn’t have a word nor rules that can be modified to manipulate its subjects, perhaps faith in the question mark may be a safer exploration in wisdom than anything written and translated by man. Yoga, among many other philosophical teachings has been a wonderful teacher to me but it'll never close my mind to the thoughts, ideas and inspirations of others; especially this wise and wonderful gentleman.

This is a song for him by an artist he really respects; Peter Seeger.

learning from angels

Having spent the last week at a community centre in the slums of Medellin volunteering as an English teacher and playing with grubby little beautiful children, I thought it would be worth me sharing my experience.

Firstly, I can't believe how emotional this work is. One would think after all the heartbreak; there'd be a strong wall of equanimity built around this heart with eyes accustomed to witnessing extreme poverty; but for me at least, the opposite is true. The walls have crumbled away and I am perpetually moved by these gorgeous little children that just want to play and know how to smile with so little. They want to skip ropes and do jigsaw puzzles. They want to learn English so they can one day have a good job. They want their family to be healthy and have dreams of seeing the world. Saying goodbye the other day, I was followed to the bus stop and waved off by two shouting little monkey-faces while the little rickety red bus headed away from their village to bounce on the dusty dirt track back down the mountain. This my heart wasn't quite prepared for and I've shed a tear or two in that humble realisation that perhaps I really have no idea.

But I don't want to paint a sad picture, because it isn't sad, it's really bloody good. There are places in the world, on the ground, that bring people with hearts and hands of kindness to those that need it. It's amazing. And the work has true meaning for everyone. I ran a workshop the other day to invite the kids to create their dreams on behalf of The Dreamflag Project. Wow it was so cool. Children of all ages were engaged in envisioning their wishes for themselves, the world and their loved ones and making flags that were then hung around the classroom.

Obviously Valentine's day was going to be unconventional. My 'date' involved bringing my couchsurf host and friend Juan Pablo with me; up to the slums via a cable car and on a rickety bus up a dirt track in order to hang out with poor dirty children. Not the most romantic one might argue.

Juan Pablo is an amazing conductor (his work here) for the city youth orchestra and despite now being a successful musician and professor at the University, his beginnings were also humble and poor. He took responsibility for his family; Mum, two sisters and now two nephews and as he explained to me, was 'saved by music'. He found a place in music where he could escape the discomforts of his living situation and focus his energies on something beautiful. Now he's an example of hope for these children.

So a group of valentine volunteers trekked up to the remoter part of the slums; we bought bananas, snacks and toothbrushes to give to the children and visited two of the disabled members of the community in the remote area to give food and care just in time for the rains to fall down on us and create mudslides through the pathways separating the little shacks. I was amazed at the gentleman we met who was handicapped and had set up a little gallery to sell his paintings. They were lovely and his spirit was so positive.

After a full on day, we returned back to the apartment in Medellin. I smiled with a sense of gratitude for the day, despite feeling pretty exhausted. I then had the pleasure of cooking dinner for my host; curried beans, rice and platano followed by strawberries and ice-cream for dessert. Juan Pablo is also bisexual and unfortunately, in this strongly Catholic culture, there's shame associated with that. Which is why I suggested we went dancing at a cool gay bar last night to finish off a full on day. It was a very cool experience being surrounded by gorgeous latin men without attracting anything other than a joyous giggle (probably at my dance moves and perhaps the odd cheesey pop singer impersonation). It was extra fun seeing Juan Pablo enjoy himself there.

I woke up this morning to an email from a friend I met while in New England, USA, letting me know that his wife had passed away after a long battle with cancer. They'd spent most of their lives together and while my heart sank in sadness for his loss, I felt it open graciously too. He recognised what they had shared together; something beautiful and true. They'd gone deep in their love and despite leaving the body, as we all do in this world, I feel that she is with him infinitely and pray he can find joy again perhaps also through music given he's a very talented Blues musician. 

So a big lump sits in my throat after what's been a pretty intense week volunteering for Angeles de Medellin. It's not a very long time, there are people here who spend months and years doing this kind of work and I have so much love and respect for those who dedicate their lives to such meaningful work. I don't know if in my lifetime I'll live to see equal opportunities around the world or for these kids but at least this week I've learned one thing that we are all very much equal in: We all live. We all die. 

Whatever we choose to create in that space between; I hope it to be more joyous, accepting, loving and respectful. With a few gay dance moves thrown in for good measure and dreams coming true for those gorgeous little grubby children.

There are some more images here.

are you worth your weight in gold?

There are two things I really wish I was taught at school: Economics and, being British, Nutrition. Yoga would've been appreciated too.

I recently spent an afternoon in Bogota Colombia at the Gold Museum. An incredible shiny place of a very powerful element: Gold.  It illuminated to me the history of gold and the energy associated with it from days gone by.

It also made me wonder on how the value of gold is perceived today and the irony that we now have pieces of paper that we hold up as value when behind the scenes there's no gold to be seen to represent it. The history of gold before the the Hispanic societies invaded is quite an important observation because therein lies much wisdom of a people's much more attuned to the spirit of nature and the responsibility of those with power.

Gold artefacts were greatly valued by pre-Hispanic societies, because of both the meanings and stories attached to them and the materials, knowledge and skills involved in working them. Many of these objects were therefore repaired by goldsmiths. Some got damaged through the constant use and were remade using wires, bands or rivets, while others which had manufacturing defects, were repaired using new metal pourings or, as in the case of the filigree earrings from the Caribbean Plains, by mending the weave with metal threads.

These Pre-Hispanic gold-working societies developed special ways of understanding the world. With these, they gave order to their surroundings and filled them with symbolic content. These cosmologies answered problems that were central to their existence, such as death, illness, and the meaning of life. Imbued with a profound religious sense, they converted the universe, society and its creations into sacred realities, while establishing a link between man and his ancestors that was essential to the continuity of the traditions.  Metals, particularly gold, symbolised the fertilising powers of the sun and expressed the divine origin of the power held by the rules.

Chieftains, priests and shamans had the responsibility of guarding, transmitting and renewing cosmological representations. Endowed with special sensitivities and skills, they were subjected from childhood to lengthy processes about mythology, sacred plants, astronomy and ritual practices. With their work, gestures and objects as tools, they did a symbolic job, one which transformed the world in order to guarantee not only the wellbeing of society but also that nature would reproduce herself. Alongside them, the technical and at the same time magical work of goldsmiths transformed metals in to objects that had cultural meanings much like the artwork of today.

Because of its colour, intense shine and unchangeability, gold was associated with the sun. Gold ornaments expressed the celestial, divine origin of the rulers power.

The shaman's believed that metal that is transformed by goldsmiths returns to its place of origin. It takes the form of the bird-shaman who flies through the middle, upper and lower worlds and adopts the posture of the seated shaman who, in his hallucinatory trance discovers the secrets of the cosmos and controls the forces of regular life. Metal objects return to the Earth as gifts to the gods. Imbued with profound religious meanings, they are offered up in lakes and caves in order to restore the balance in the world. The metal cycle is thus completed, manipulated by man, it is used by him to manage the universe.

And thus we see the incredible stories attached to gold within ancient civilisations where spirit was at the heart of the matter. What was once an art has since become a commodity of which the craftsmanship of its creation is overlooked in a world of modern day mass consumption.

My Australian friend Jess Miller (who wants to see Australian Politics shaken up) decided to invest her pension in artwork instead of conforming with societal norms of major institutions while another friend of mine, Jamie Stockwood is selling this awesome Banksy piece (on eBay) that if I had walls for, I would love to invest in. Craftsmanship that is commentary on society today.

Gold was once something pure, unchanging and divine in these regions of the world. An art that connected man with the land. It strikes me how much that story has since changed.

practically loving nature

Eco experience Uruguay - a project on sustainable living from Michelle Raymond

While in Buenos Aires, I studied at the TEFL English School with two wonderful teachers; Michelle and Brad (below) who moved to Argentina from South Africa. Since that time they have embarked on a new adventure together; they are creating a stunning sustainable community in the hills of Uruguay. Environmentally conscious living at its finest.

Michelle & Brad

What is the use of a house if you don't have a decent planet to put it on? - Henry David Thoreau

At present they only have the land tucked in the hills of Uruguay. There are no buildings on it, so they have to start everything from the very beginning. Their plans are incredibly exciting and will provide a beautiful place for people to enjoy the divine scent of their lavender fields, learning to tend the land with opportunities to study English and do yoga while living sustainably. Such a wonderful beacon of light for people looking for a change or to learn new paradigms of sustainable living in this world.

In the meantime they need money to make this project really happen. They have some funds to start but to speed it along Brad and Michelle are putting a call out for donations and investment capital and obviously, I really would like to support them in anyway I can.

You can learn more about their project here on their blog and visit here to make a most worthy donation to their project.
If 100 people gave us either $5 or 5pounds, it would help their project tremendously.