Posted by: Jay | September 12, 2014

september snake


Two days ago in the depths of night, out of nowhere, a snake appeared.
The snake was not malevolent or shimmering as warning.
The snake was just going about snake-business; soaking up the rays, tongue flicking the air, eyes bright, head elevated.
This continued on for an indeterminate time, then something startled the snake and (s)he disappeared.

As usual, this morning I walked to the Headland, paid my respects to the cove, did a few stretches, rolled on the pebbles and headed back up the cliff into the bush.
I walked about a kay along the bush track before emerging near the road. I continued on along the quiet road, the sounds of Rosella’s vibrating through me.
I looked down and to the right, and there was the snake, soaking up the ray’s, tongue flicking the air, eyes bright, head elevated.
The first for the season.
I crouched down near the snake, the snake and I content.
I took a photo or two, the snake unperturbed.
To acknowledge the snake, to close the circle of experience, I moved closer and was just about to touch the snake near the tail when a car rumbled towards us.
Startled, the snake disappeared silently into the undergrowth.

Posted by: Jay | September 9, 2014



It’s all belief.
Not just god and gods, or this philosophy or that.
But what we make of life in general, and everything associated: culture, society, technology, wealth, nature, the environment, relationships, etc, etc.
There is no escaping belief by believing in ‘nothing’ because that is another belief.
Even the statement it’s all belief, is belief.
We can choose which beliefs we wish, though it may be more a case of beliefs choosing us as dictated by circumstance or experience.
No doubt, some beliefs are more beneficial than others.

One of the local beaches here is a popular walk; wide, sandy and flat, meaning at low tide the compacted sand makes for an easy stroll.
I have wandered this beach for years; close to 30 in fact, and apart from subtle sandy variations, this stretch from a visual standpoint hasn’t changed much at all.
Last Saturday, I walked down the steps onto the beach and, lo and behold, the first 50 metres was all exposed rock. Big seas and a unique set of swell angles, tide, and wind direction had joined forces to dramatically re-shape the beach. All the sand had vanished. Some of the protruding rocks were standing 5 foot high. One can only guess how many tonnes of sand had been washed away.
Navigating through the stark unfamiliar terrain, I happened across a rock that was conspicuously different from its counterparts. Whereas, the others were ragged, stark and shear in angle, this one was flat to the ground and had been intricately inscribed by the hands of nature.
As humans we are naturally drawn to symbols, to images that in some way are familiar, that we can ‘place’, provide meaning, tie in with the beliefs that we have collected.
The process is automatic, programmed in, something we do whether we try to or not.
The inscribed rock spoke of unboundedness: infinity.
Life, swirling through its stages, death and life unified as one, inseparable. Circles united together, without beginning or end.

Of course, one could look at the pattern and see glacial action, or some other belief entirely, but at the end of the day, whichever belief that shines through, one is left ultimately with the beautiful mystery that is life. A mystery with a capital ‘M’ that initiates no questions. A mystery that has room enough for all beliefs.

Posted by: Jay | September 3, 2014

Blowing My Own Trumpet

cloud-beingsWhen it comes to business, those close to me often say I am way too reserved and understated.

Rather than shouting from the rooftops the services I offer, I am content to merge into the bushland and wait for whatever finds its way to me.

One of the many things I admire about Heather Awen is her tireless dedication to raising awareness for the Disabled and those who suffer with Multiple Chemical Sensitivity.

She is not blowing her own trumpet, but she is vocal in her efforts to educate people about these conditions.

Prostate Cancer is a disease that has touched me, and I too wish to contribute, especially because men often suffer in silence when it comes to mental wellbeing, which may include anxiety, depression, feelings of inadequacy, or loss of ‘manliness’. Then there’s the physical side as well, which may include continence issues, potency problems and reduced libido.

I am fortunate to recover from prostate cancer with precious few battle-wounds. Many others are not so fortunate.

Hence, I am blowing my own trumpet.


Posted by: Jay | August 9, 2014



Looking for food, when the tide is not low enough or the swell is too big, prized shellfish like Abalone, Spenglers Triton, or Turban Snail are near on impossible to gather.
Then, fallback options such as Limpet – and as was the case today – Periwinkle become a food of choice.
They are small and fiddly but are rich in iodine and numerous sea-minerals and though they may not make up the lion share of the meal in terms of volume, they are nutritious and very abundant.
Boiled for a minute or less releases their ‘door’ and one can easily remove with a pin, then hook out the tiny morsel and devour.
This meal, Periwinkle with Squash, Zucchini and Silverbeet.
And a dash of Lemon.

Posted by: Jay | July 29, 2014

toxins and health


We live in toxic times; pollution, plastics, heavy metals, electrical fields, etc, etc, etc.
These toxins impact on our neurology, endocrine system, gut biology, immune system, mental health and more.
I believe various cancers, allergies and intolerances, hormonal abnormalities, some mental illnesses and sundry other diseases are driven by modern toxicity.
In my opinion we are probably all poisoned, just some of us more than others.
I – and I have touched on some of my health challenges in past posts – am no different.
Curing some diseases, when the underlying environmental toxic load in modern industrial times continues unabated, would seem quite an irrelevant proposition. lhc.1
I am not so sure many diseases can in fact be cured absolutely anyway, as the body seems to work to a unique survival strategy, whereby symptoms, pain, inflammation are part of a healing process anyway, or the body working in a protective way to minimise, or ameliorate immediate risk. (wisdom of the body)
But with the heavy toxic load of today, curing – in the sense that one will be absolutely free of a particular disease so it will never return again (or return as some other illness), is,  as before, an irrelevant proposition.
Managing existing illnesses, minimising toxic exposure and safeguarding and manipulating energy levels is probably more realistic in the onslaught of modern toxicity, than cure.

All this preamble is a long-winded introduction to ‘ Headland power and sacred sites’ that keep me alive and aid in rejuvenating and making use of inbuilt bodily healing processes.
For many folk, inanimate objects like rocks, cliffs, landforms or even trees, are ‘things’.
But they are not things for me. Neither are individual birds, winds, rockpools, snakes or most anything else either.
They are alive. They interact with me and me, them. banksia
I ‘feel’ them via areas in the chest, abdomen, and sometimes upper head.
This feeling then ripples through the body like a hypnotic trance that brings forth euphoric sensation, and sometimes perception, that – depending on how it is used – has beneficial energy and healing qualities that extend beyond ‘the event’.
Depending on the day, the time, season, existing pains and ‘health idiosyncrasies’ will benefit from engaging with a hill, or rock, or cliffline, or waterhole, or Sea Eagle tree. Or whatever. Often different, fluid, but always there. Fellow persons, shamanic healers in these toxic times.

Posted by: Jay | July 23, 2014


JeraOn television last night I watched a program about an American man, Dan McLaughlin.

McLaughlin didn’t play much golf at all until he was 30, and then after hacking his way through nine holes, wondered if he was to dedicate himself to the game, spend 10,000 hours of concentrated practice, whether he could reach professional level.

Now, 5,000 hours later on, and four years later, he has cut his handicap down to just three, and his idea of reaching pro-standard golf is no longer a laughing matter. Elite standard beckons.

The Rune Jera denotes year, harvest; time. The two triangular shapes come together as one cohesive whole; a year. Jera signifies both the warm and cold months, the light and dark. It speaks of toiling away throughout the year – during good and challenging times – and then reaping rewards.

Regardless of what one dedicates time to, providing one takes good guidance and is open to learn – be it foraging, animal tracking, esoteric practice, music, golf, whatever – if it is undertaken with intent and purpose no matter the obstacles, then one will reap reward. And if one has real heart for the endeavour – and to do a particular thing for some 10,000 hours or so through good times and bad – then in most instances, that IS heart. Harvest will follow.

Posted by: Jay | July 18, 2014



Cuttlefish bone scratched on rock will wash away in the next rain shower.
In the face of winds, torrential downpour, heat, cold – elemental variation – chunks of cliffline collapse.
The ocean eats into rock, eroding, weakening; moving mountains.
Perpetual change.

Strength, hardiness, resilience are not transient.
The Rune Eihwaz, – Yew Tree – speaks of this.
Like the toughness of Yew tree, showing backbone denotes strength, moving forward boldly, taking decisive action, despite uncertainty.
The Yew tree firmly rooted, reaching up into the sky, represents a link between earth and heavens, mortality and immortality.
Strength, resilience, stability that transcends time. Eihwaz.

Posted by: Jay | July 14, 2014



Mid-winter. Very cold morning, but sunny.
A gale force westerly wind, which sweeps across the Snowy Mountains inland, then rampages down onto the coast, ratchets up the wind chill factor.
I hike through the forest of towering Spotted Gum-trees: beautiful beings but deadly, especially in strong winds, capable of making widows in an instant.
Giant trees uprooted, the root ball still attached to truck sized portions of earth, dot the landscape.
I reach the deserted beach, a broad band of white sand, the Eucalypt Forest standing guard.
I strip down and enter the water: frigid, wind carrying icy spears assailing exposed skin.

Wunjo speaks of perfection, ecstasy, joy.
Definitely not ‘perfection’ as in skewed thoughts denying the not-so-readily acknowledged aspects of being human.
Certainly not ‘joy’ free of pain – but ‘perfecting’ – in terms of living in accordance with heart, meeting wyrd.
And in doing so in the crucible of life – whatever the difficulty or challenge may be – pain melts into the ecstatic.

Oftentimes, what one would like to do – the easy, more palatable action – does not correlate with what one knows one should do. To not heed the call of wyrd, then Wunjo will herald discontent, unease, malaise; ecstatic perfection turned on its head.

Posted by: Jay | July 8, 2014


berkana.oThe Rune Berkana speaks of the goddess Berchta – birch – of birth, new beginnings.

At the end of a long, deserted beach near home is a cliff. A scraggly tree clings determinedly to the rock face on the shaded side.
For a long time a Boobook Owl used to perch in the thick of the tree during daylight hours.
Then, a few years ago the Owl vanished.
Whenever I walked along this beach I would get to the end of the beach and look for the Owl, to no avail, despite a pervading presence.
Countless visits, no Owl.
Early this afternoon I wandered along the beach and there on exactly the same branch of the tree was an Owl.


Re-birth, renewal, regeneration. Berkana.

But whenever there is birth, there is death.
Driving home from up the coast late last week, the wind caused by cars passing along the highway animated the wing of a dead bird lying beside the road. Striking, dark feather-bars flying once again. I stopped knowing what bird it was to be. Boobook Owl.

In death, birth, Berkana beckons.

Posted by: Jay | July 2, 2014

longterm barefooting


Its been around 5 years since I committed to barefooting, which for me means no footwear at all, or wearing ‘barefoot’ Vibrams.
Wearing regular shoes has become a once-in-a-bluemoon occurrence, and I even attended my brother in laws wedding shod in Vibrams (the neat, tidy ones in the picture). Incidently, the bride and groom and their family were not the least bit surprised with my attire, and being familiar with my – mmm, how shall we put it – my less than conventional life approach, thought it quite civilised by comparison to what they expected.

One of the main reasons I originally decided to get out of shoes was to see if a more natural gait would improve, or at least extend the life of a badly damaged knee. I ruptured the anterior cruciate ligament about 30 years ago, decided at the time not to get a reconstruction, and in response to ever-increasing pain and knee instability five years ago, got a xray which revealed bone rubbing on bone.
Not one to opt for surgery unless necessary I embarked on the barefoot experiment.
The results have been very good.
Providing I don’t eat any offending foods which aggravate arthritic pain in the joint, the ache is mostly non-existent or minimal.
I can walk for miles, climb mountains, no problems.
The most noticeable effect includes a change in gait and posture.
I have noticed that longterm barefooting changes leg and foot biomechanics from more of a stiff-legged heelstriking stride to a more bent legged, flexible footfall, which starts at the pad of the forefoot and eases back on the remaining foot.
The musculature has changed accordingly with a strengthening and increase in muscle density in the upper glute area. As one tends to walk more upright in a J spinal curve with bum almost sticking out (take a look at some old photos of hunter gatherer tribes, especially nomadic ones to get an idea of this), rather than a more modern shape, which generally means a more rounded shoulder, S type arrangement.
So overall posture has improved.
The other thing I noticed about barefooting – especially without any type of footwear at all including the Vibrams – is the wonderful sensitivity of the feet and how they are able to sense the terrain and morph accordingly.
My feet definitely have spread in size – ha! – so they can grip and love more of the ground at any one time!
I have not been back to the orthopedic surgeon and don’t plan to – perhaps – and I never would have thought this possible a few years ago, ever!

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