Camera and editing thanks Kelsie Lewis

 

Sweet evening with Leah Senior, Jesse Williams (Girlatones) and Zak Olsen (Traffik Island).

Jamie Wdziekonskl brought us together and Dev Mason filmed the night with two VHS cameras. 
Sound was sourced from the cameras.

I am grateful to Alan Watts for leading me into the world of eastern philosophies. The Daoists, Zen Buddhists, Sufis, Advaita Vedanta and various aspects of Hinduism.

His book The Book: On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are should be essential reading for all.

A couple of his quotes I've always loved:

You have a responsibility to feel the joy

We are all apertures through which the universe observes itself

Share the love...

Amigo, It's 3.30am on a Wednesday morning and I'm drinking a delicious coffee in front of a fire I've managed to keep going through the night. I love the still silence of the early hours, even though the wind is lashing the shack.

I brought the bike over to Bruny yesterday - cold ride.

Still, loving the cold swims most mornings.

I'll give this fire a kick and head back to the sack. Always sleep well after a coffee...

We arrive in Tasmania under police guard.
 
I'm not sure whether they're protecting the community, us or themselves, but they're nice guys doing a job so we crack jokes and put up with the theatre. The masks they've given us steam up my glasses so I go back to the neck scarf. There are 5 of us "govvies" going into government hotel accommodation for 14 days and we board a bus for the Sunrise Motel. We decide to share phone numbers so we can communicate over the time if we want and maybe have a zoom session.
 
There are locked cyclone gates into the establishment and a similarly fenced off exercise yard in the central parking area. It's standard motel fare, but we're lucky with opening windows and the exercise yard.
 
The cops are trying to be helpful. They help us with our gear. I sense they're hating this. It's like being a fire brigade volunteer with a beeper, and all you get beeped to do is wash diesel off the roads after an accident.
 

The older it gets the more rubbish is wrote
so its parents and friends push it off in a boat
and call on the waves to keep it afloat
til it dreams up a wrinkling twinkle
and it steadies itself at the helm
It steadies itself at the helm.

A wrinkling twinkle’s a nonchalant thought
that spins off a wheel to be subtly caught
by the tendrils of time that emerge from the rhyme
to usher a twinkle right out of the wrinkle
the wrinkle back into the realm,
the wrinkle back into the realm.

But now that the twinkle is out on its own
the waves become wild and the dreamer is thrown
from the front and the back of the in and the out
til it calls out aloud to the tide
oh thank you so much for the ride
yes thank you so much for the ride.

Then things are unusually still
becalmed on a watery hill
it looks for a seed of a nonchalant thought
to pop up ahead in a faraway port
where twinkles and wrinkles can never be caught
and it steadies itself at the helm
it steadies itself at the helm.

nobody

out of nobody comes light
nobodys knowing why darkness is blowing,
but flowbodies, crowbodies silently working.

nobody is right nobody is light
nobody is real nobody can feel
nobody has cure for a way to endure
nobody is pure its okay

not knowing the nobody way

 

No one can enter the gateless gate.
So be no one.