...home after a 2 week furlough.

We never had holidays- always harvesting fruit through the summer. And hay.

I found it really hard to take leave and to relax.

Watched our city of Awkvegas [Auckland] come out lock-down... ...with a big yacht race. We got backpackers rates at a high end apartment- because, of course, there were no overseas visitors.

Then we went to a rowing regatta where two of our mokos were competing... they did not get medals- but got really exhausted! One kid from our town got a bronze. J. who is 18 now, got a job offer from this kid's dad...

Late last year I got four poetry gigs back to back really. Ah aint performed for years. Then most to crowds of three or four bored people. So in the meantime I have added song and stuff to my performance. One of them was attended by one readers mum! Our only audience really.

But it was videoed as well. I got something published a week ago- and will get another publication in a month or so in the centrefold of a Catholic magazine, Tui Motu.

I thought that all of this could be a bit of a Swansong... ...but on the other hand- something in me wants to live well over the next twenty years or go- to get may own back on the first 20 years. It was a living hell, in a way.

Rural poverty aint that grand! We were better off than our city cousins. 5 of them ended up working in brothels.  ...

I am working two programmes together. ACA can provide therapy, so long as we practise it on ourselves.

I have a therapist. I see her every two months- what I can afford.

Late last years she had a high profile issue with a conman- who was posing as her boyfriend.

However she seemed to work through this okay.

She is a great breathing expert- having been there herself.

And a pretty competent physiotherapist.

I had slackened off with  my exercise.

I suppose that is what holidays are for- rest and re-creation...  ...

I tried for a job harvesting grapes... no luck so far. Grapepicking is so much easier than spuds and carrots! 

I am better off with doing work on our properties- adding value.

We had a bit of a domestic meltdown late last week. We are both baby boomers, obviously. Used to the silence and obfuscation in families. The internal war wounds.

Also working towards our Anzac Day towards the end of next month.

I have been put in charge of the service out at our settlement. The place will be full of urbanites, who live out there now.

Anyway- anger aside.

Our valley floor was flooded by a huge dam about 1990.

Lots and lots of changes around here... 

...at least it bought AA and Alanon into our remote valley.

Not so remote now...  ...

It's 6 a.m. now- time to get the day cranked up.

I am functioning now a lot more thanI thought possible...  ...

cheers y'all... 

D. 

He aha te waiata?

Traditionally here we greet strangers and folks alike, by rubbing noses.

After speaking, an elder will most always follow with a song... usually assisted by younger members of the whanau/ohana/extended family...

Hi David, thank you for your share/ESH today, love to hear how you are doing,
your thoughts and traditions. I enjoyed listening to "Daisies White" and to know
that it is country folk song shared with visitors. I was impressed that the singer was

very intent on making sure the listener could learn the song and sing along.

Step 12: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others,
and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

For me step 12 changes daily with all the small but cumulative successes that I experience working this program.

The one thing that never changes is when I am really at peace (which is so important to attain daily) I find HP
sends me signs and messages frequently. If I am troubled all the time (like I used to be) I am blocked to see what
is in front of me.

Your holiday sounds like it was very pleasant and glad you did not have to deal with the tourists this time around.

You must be so very proud that your poetry is published, maybe you could share it with us?

 GIRLHOOD

Girlhood, womanhood, motherhood

in the hood- little red riding hood.

In the wood- widowhood, wooing

in the sycamores- too wet to woo.

I want more I want more lines-

more content, more, more, more

I want the woman the girl became.

I want the wise words, wickedly.

I want the old woman, the grandmother,

I want the witch in the woods, Wendy.

The smoke and the pith of the fire,

the wind in the trees round about-

a cut and a creeper creeping curling

around the chimney, the crooked roof

and a curve and a crick in the wind

where hope and love met one morning.

D    a    v    i    d      G. 

 Oh Debbs!

                I began writing poems as a teen. Through some real tough times.

Most times i had no idea what I was writing about. Our Hp had a hand in this.

Harold Bloom on "The Western Canon" had no women mentioned at all. As I

went through school Sylvia Plath sometimes had one poem- but mainly because

of her hubby being one too. And because of her tragic life.   ...

So writing- and being an artist is about being aware, alive,  ...

... just learning to accept this. Most of my life I was not a person, let alone a poet.  

but art, music; maybe even more than sport- helps to show us the way to a better life...  ...