My polenta pancakes,

Sunday slipped away like so much sand--reclaimed, reshuffled, and redistributed by the ocean, never to return in quite the same configuration.  This is the nature of things, of wind and tides and perfect moments that slide warmly into memory. 
We also reshuffle, remember, reinvent. 

Sleeplessness and the sand in my hair hold on to the best parts of the day (and, coincidentally, ensure the bulletin goes out on time).  Clearly there are perks to insomnia, though it does interfere with sunrise runs along the Sydney shore. 

Still, let's top off a beautiful weekend, and start an awesome week, with a smile.  Here's the good-good word:

In the spirit of eating good food, making it with your own hands and enjoying some lovely company, we are pleased to announce that we will be launching a series of Foodie Workshops this semester. If you are interested in participating in any of these, please email Emma or Suzie (foodies@thoughtfulfoods.org.au) so we can have an idea of numbers. We'll organise venue and equipment once we know how many people there are!

My evolutionary adventurers,

It's been a strangely sleepless week. I waxed contemplative until midnight, but the bulletin just had to wait. It seems every time I'm sure life is simple the universe turns and pummels me with stardust.
But that's okay, because I've always liked to glitter.

Email

My sunshiny day,

 

I would spout to you my weekend spent between flu and stubbornness, spent playing with new friends and creeping 'round cliff-sides; but alas, the bulletin is already late, already long, & I still sorta have the flu.

 

Instead we'll get right to it, the good word: 

 

My curry-pumpkin soup on cold winter nights,

Wednesday I sat watching the rain pour down from my third floor office, my fingers chilled in the late-winter afternoon, my nose a little runny, and my heart humming with a burning awareness that well all need to love ourselves if we're going to heal each other.  We're all in this together; we're all downstream now.  I reckon we always have been.

Yet compassion remains elusive.  It's very easy for us--or so my experiences say--to have compassion for the creatures around us, to connect with suffering that is immediately visible, to champion others in need.  When it comes to love for ourselves, though, we fall flat: criticism, doubt.  We deem ourselves so unworthy of love and hope, doubt our abilities, question our intentions.  What is it that divides us from ourselves, do you think? 

And we're back!  Hurray!  It's been a long two weeks, don't you think?  Sunny, though.  Well, until tonight.
In that time I've mingled with Buddhists, gotten harassed by a pilgrim (seriously!), developed a new appreciation for oranges, and finally came up with a catchy idea for my research paper. 

Gorgeous creatures of the wind & rain,

We bluster and blow across campus, soaked to the skin after sudden cloudbursts--bicycles uncooperative, umbrellas torn asunder. Oh Sydney winter, you humble me with your grumpy ferocity.
I am damp.
And cold. Perpetually, through the end of July. Funny that. Is it colder in your house than it is outside, too? These are things I wonder.

There are many important messages to convey this week, among them issues about eggs and the end-of-semester co-op dinner. You'll pay attention, won't you?

My turnip greens,

Thursday last, I popped into the co-op to say 'ello (& bum $5 off of Alice). It was abuzz with people, awash with what Alice later called embodiment of co-op: vollies and shoppers and just-say-helloers all shopping and helping and chittery-chatting in a perfect fusion of loving and sharing (takes a breath), and it was beautiful.

Another delightful weekend come and gone; the moon fades to crescent; the semester draws to a close.  It is week 12, a week of panic and bliss, of final assignments, the anticipation of final exams, and the warm knowledge of holidays.  It's also been beautiful, sunny, and crisp as apples in the late afternoon.  Between finishing projects, grading assignments, juggling work & domesticity, and hitting the gym, don't forget to have a smile at the blue-blue sky.  It loves you too.

What can I say?  I'm in a happy-hippie-in-harmony mood.  Might be the sleep deprivation, but I don't think so.