Bogong- Week 1- 11th March 2016

Sweltering heat greeted me on the mountain when I arrived. A heralding. A signaling that called me to the mountain. The first few days have been an exploration of this beautiful area: the lake, the junction dam, the rivers and rivulets, and the village. Bird song, Coo-ees, flora and fauna have been a part of my world here. As well as mountain grasshoppers, symbolic of creative inspiration, scurry along the lake path. My senses are somewhat heightened with clean air and fresh scents as well as sounds that careen across the mountain walls.

Since being here, I have been  wondering about the women who were integral to the running of the village. Especially in light of International Women’s Day this week. One woman, who stood out to me, was Miss Pearl Haynes: She sounded like an incredibly bright and esteemed woman in the Village. She was an avid hiker and fisherwoman and was a “great organiser”. Dear Pearl had a speech impairment, and it saddened me that this was described as a “failing”.

The land has a poetic feel to it, and much of the area is majestic and divine. A trip to the Rocky Dam past falls creek (Photo) highlighted again the majesty as well as the magic in changing perspectives. Perched high upon the mountain top, I find clarity and new inspiration. A new breath.

“I know it dark against the stars, the high lean country, full of old stories that still go walking in my sleep” South of my Days, Judith Wright.

I am yet to know many of the stories of Bogong and surrounds. But I am ready and listening.

With thanks and gratitude to the Bogong Centre for Sound Culture, for the privilege of having a two week artist in residence as part of the upcoming festival in April 2017, Phantasmagoria.

Riverbed

 The river of Sound

is endless.

Ongoing

Never ceasing

Overflowing

At night

In the dark

It feels like it is running

Through my bed

Through my head

Through my clothes

In my toes

The sound

The noise.

Breathing in to welcome the day

Breathing out

The river

The stream

The consciousness

The very life of this city

Is outside my window

Flowing to the sea.

It bursts along

Droplets flowing

Never knowing

The sound they’re making

In a quaking

Me into another night

Of no sleep.

The presence of the sound is strong

In the valley

With the birds

With the trees

Nature delights

Nature’s delight

Irritants and the voice

Is it irritating to be a Diva?....the importance of nose breathing.

The subject of voice and irritants arises, often amongst professional voice users, such as teachers and singers. Not for who is irritating to listen to instead speaking of irritants in our environment. Teachers, Actors and Singers can work in environments with dusty, dry and sometimes chemically laden air.

I have had clients who have suffered from sudden (and often violent) allergic reactions, from aeroallergens and irritants such as cedar trees, perfumes, grasses, spray'n'wipe amongst others. Most people, understandably,  get a fright when they realise that they can't breathe.
Most people try to talk while they are still coughing. Often not pausing to inhale again, concentrate of the breath and relax more fully. For some, it is almost as if the cough is in itself an irritant, and, by pushing through it, it will just go away.

There is a great article on aeroallergens and the voice. The difference between Asthma attacks and Vocal Cord Dysfunction is explained well here. 

So if we are afflicted with a sudden change of breathing, we might think  "G*sh, I don't know what this is, but its making it hard to breathe, and I'm coughing" Do we stop? Do we push on and keep talking or singing?

I was in a group voice class the other day. It was utterly delightful. There was a free and open feeling in my voice aided by incredible ease of lung expansion and long and easy breaths. I found my range exhilarating, and it was one of those beautiful times where everything felt wonderful. I was in the zone. There had been noise of construction outside the studio space all morning, and suddenly the smell of burning tar entered the building. It was intense. Before I could "breath in through my nose", I had open-mouth inhaled air laced with the smell particle of hot, burning asphalt.

What to do? I stopped. It stopped the class. I didn't really want to speak, as I was trying not to cough, so I quietly mentioned the smell. I then started to cough a little. I was grateful for the many hours of sessions as well as professional development i have done on chronic cough as well as keeping the throat open. I was sure there was "nothing" in my throat, despite the urge to voraciously clear the living daylights out of it. So I sat with it. Quietly. Inhaling through my nose, and breathing out through pursed lips, and implementing other techniques as I needed to. It was highly uncomfortable.  I knew that it would pass, and I would have to be patient.

It was the last half hour of class, so I didn't participate. Even though I really wanted to. It didn't feel right. I didn't have my breathing sorted nor my airways feeling easy and open. Breath is the very foundation of our being. It is the floors to our house, our canvas to our paint. I felt a bit "Diva-ish" sitting on the sidelines, whilst the rest of the class continued. And it was that feeling that made me feel uncomfortable as well as the throat sensations. I also was grappling with the 'but it had felt so great, and now it feels so horrible". However not panicking. Breathing.

It got me thinking afterwards. When is it that we push through and keep voicing? I mean in survival situations of course we would have to. It also raises the idea of what you might perceive to be a "survival" situation: If you were in a show and had one of these allergic reactions, would you still keep going? Would it depend upon how much you valued your voice (or how much monetary value it had)? If you were a Diva at LaScala, would you stop and if you were in an amateur chorus would you stop? And who would urge you to keep going? Yourself or the Director? And yes, it does gets complex. Do we place a value on our vocal health? And when is it valid rather than 'overdramatic'? It is a tightrope that we walk on at this time: knowing our body, knowing our obligations, and ensuring we honour both as much as is possible.

These sorts of allergic reactions are largely invisible. Initially for me, there was coughing and shortness of breath, with lingering different sensations. The desire to throat clear was defintely present: If I had entered into a state of guilt such as  "They must think I am putting it on" I could perhaps have indulged in some level of vocal theatrics and throat clearing to ensure that everyone would know it had indeed affected me. And if I had panicked, I might have closed my throat and became even more breathless and sure that "something is in my throat". Instead, I was silent. I moved towards people to speak with them gently and succinctly. I remained mostly silent, sipping water, swallowing.

It also raises the concept of internal versus external circumstances that we can change. Externally, I could have left the space, but would have been confronted by the tar men right outside the door. I went to the kitchen to see if I could get water and boil the kettle to steam, but indeed the kitchen smelt worse than the studio. So I turned my focus to my internal situation. Luckily, I had an understanding teacher that knows about Vocal Health and was supportive of the decision.

So instead, I waited, inhaled, exhaled and repeated this pattern for a while. And eventually, I had a cup of hot water, after I had "steamed" the water from the cup.

So a silent Diva of sorts...



Some practicalities.......
Why is it important to nose breathe?

Well, basically nose breathing warms, filters and humidifies air. The nose acts like a screen against anything unwanted coming into the lungs. Fumes, dry, dusty air, smoke can all be triggers for "irritants" and it usually catches us unawares. For some who have significant reflux, they may have a sudden "meeting" with the acidic taste in their mouth and throat. 

Why is it important not to throat clear?
The same cartilages in the voice box that come together gently for speaking, bang against each other strongly. It can cause swelling and irritation...and the desire to throat clear even more. The analogy of a mosquito bite comes to mind. 

What can I do if this happens to me?
Remove yourself from the irritant if it is possible, or place tour hand or scarf over you nose and mouth.
Breathe through your nose and out through gently pursed lips.
Sip water, swallow strongly.
Try not to clear your throat.
Gently hum if you are unsure and see how that feels to make sound. 
Don't panic!

Lovers of caves

"The cave that you fear to enter holds the treasure that you seek" Joseph Campbell.

Time indeed takes on a degree of timelessness whilst in the cave itself. It is hard to know how long I had been in there. Sometimes it felt as if lifetimes had passed. Othertimes, it seemed to move very quickly although I had been in there for hours. A true sense of the elasticity of time.

For therein lies the peace and calm. Stephanie Dowrick once spoke of “intra-personal” peace. The space inside ourselves where it is no longer in conflict.  Just being.  Not the doing. Just being. Resting. Eating, nurturing talking, voicing. The parasympathetic nervous system. Where our bodies should reside for most of the time- at least 95%. And how in modern society it generally doesn’t. It often runs on adrenalin. And keeps running on adreanlin. And then we wonder why we are tired, or have nothing "left". Adrenalin is a non-renewbale energy source. The energy from the parasymaptheitc nervous system is renewable, long lasting, and easy. Kinda like the tropical island relaxation one gets when one is well and truly relaxed. It needs to be nurtured, and loved. 

How can we make our bodies reside more in the Being?

“We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves. I wish for all this to be marked on my body when I am dead.”

― Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient

Roses...the art of life

"Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue" John Keats

It is that time of year when we transition into the cold and darkness of Winter. In the garden that signifies many things. Recently my dad and I pruned a multitude of rose bushes. Well he did, expertly, and I was his novice student. He is known for his beautiful roses at home.  My dad has a true green thumb, and spends many hours in the garden. I have been known to be not so handy in my garden travails allowing many a plant to meet an all too soon demise. So  it was with a newfound curiosity and desire to learn the art of green life. 

The pruning allowed us to observe the sound of the gentle rain in the garden. The quietude and stillness made this experience truly enjoyable, coupled with the crispness of the cooler afternoon air. Over the summer, the roses had provided me with hours of glorious scent, of delightful colour. Now, in the waning into true Winter, watching them take their final bow towards their ephemerality was true beauty.  It reminds me of the cycles of life and death, allowing the full nature of transformation to be present, from the arrival of the first blushing bud until the last of the petals fall.

I have been contemplating my new instructions to rose pruning and feel that these lessons may also apply to life. Surprisingly, over the past few weeks, I have given this advice to people who are searching for the ultimate rose pruning. Here are my dad's guidelines on how to prune roses, wonderfully advised in his gentle tone of voice, filled with patience.

Cut away the old flowers first.
Start with what you can see easily and cut them away.Take off the old roses, the leaves, in order to see beyond the wildness of the rose bush. Take time to look at the plant and see how it is structured, instead of being in the midst of the plant. Step back and have a look at it from all angles until you can see the whole of the plant and get to know it and what shape it might take.  
Not to be too hasty at the start when we haven't truly seen what shape it is we would like to develop. Give it the space to allow it to unfold. Being patient that it is the first step in the process and it may not yet be clear what to do next.

Cut away anything that is growing on the inside. We are looking to make the rose bush circular. 

Cutting away the branches on the inside. Some looked so lovely that I didn't want to cut them at first. They were not part of the roses plan to grow into its envisaged shape. Such as when things look beautiful on the surface, but they do not serve us anymore and we need to let them go. They are not for our highest purpose, and may lead us into thorny situations in the future.

Cut away anything that is crossing over into the middle of the bush.

This step entails cutting away that which has grown over what needs to be bare. Cutting a branch that will later interfere with the growth of a stronger branch...a healthier one. In modern times, we often have so many things going on, and not always enough time to have clarity on all that occupies us.  To cut away those things in life that cross us, that keep us "busy" and "doing" and that stop us from breathing and Being. "At this deep level we can then create the life we want especially when all of our "branches" are going in the right direction. We can harness and maintain our energy by being clear of what our intention is.

Prune to a third of its original size. Making a firm cut just above a new bud. This might seem a lot, but roses like a good prune (It might look harsh) They will grow back. And flower.

To me this last guideline is all about trust. A third? Really? It seems a lot. Apparently so. 
There has been many times in my life when I have "pruned" my life. Just after it is done, I have had a feeling of slight discomfort, tinged with regret: "oh, perhaps I trimmed too much-it looks so bare and empty". To me this stage is knowing and trusting new opportunities will enter a vacuum. The roses need it in order to grow anew. And amazing opportunities often replace what had been removed.

Winter is a time of introspection, of shorter days and longer nights. It is a wonderful time to observe what is going on internally and make changes that suit us on a deep level. We benefit from this time of introspection to gain clarity and scope out possibilities for the time ahead.

In life, we need to create space, especially if life feels too full. On a physical level, when we have an internal empty space, it can fill. The breath fully exhaled creates a vacuum in the lungs, creating room for the next inhale. We can then trust the new breath will enter into our body easily. We can surrender fully to this breath as it enters at a profound level.
When there is emotional space, it too creates room for the new, whether it be new romantic love, friends, hobbies, a new passion, or something old that is new again. We cannot always do this from a place of busy, overwhelm or overflow. Creating space for new growth. It is a time for searching what makes us happy and excited and what makes our hearts glad.
Space and release on a mental level is needed too. It is the basis of meditation and mindfulness. It is the clearing out of old thoughts, of becoming aware of what our thought space is doing. New thoughts can arrive, creating feelings of aliveness and inspiration. We benefit from this deep level of surrender. Of lettting go, and feeling into the next transition. Knowing that we will be supported. "Leap, and the net will appear".

Gardening together was a beautiful experience. Metaphorically, it is great to get a perspective on one's own life by a person we trust. Only we can make choices and decisions regarding our inner lives. However, discussion and advice can assist with how to "prune" ourselves in the best direction, and with the most amount of love.  

So in the midst of this chilly Winter, there is hope and trust for the Spring whilst acknowledging that it is still a deeply inward time... a feeling of waiting for the next growth to appear and to be filled by new delights. And the beautiful anticipation of the scent of roses filling the air with joy.

xx

Riding the waves

"Let us sail beyond the sunset...."

Perhaps it is that time of year in the Southern Hemisphere where the summer heat evokes daydreams of luxurious warmth and warm breezes, but I seem to be talking to everyone about the images of waves. Personally, I love the water: to be floating, swimming, resting in the salty sea. The ocean is enticing, and awe-inducing all at once. It can move from still to stormy in a short space of time, much like our internal selves at times.

What I have been reflecting on is  how do we weather our internal storms? 

Riding the waves of emotion requires a surfboard of sorts, or even a boat that can be anchored. Many of us head out to "sea" with no lifejacket and no idea about what some of the dangers might be and so we retreat quickly back to shore with emotions that have not fully run their course and with a memory that the experience was overwhelming, or close to. The best known surfboard that I know is in the power of our breath. With the breath we can we ride any wave and not be dunked by it, overwhelmed by it and not left gasping and panicked. 

Part of the adrenaline response in our nervous system is to alter our breath, allowing us to get ready to flee/fight/freeze, even if the danger is only in our psyche and not physically in front of us.  Our breath becomes shallow, or at times lost, unavailable and foreign.

How do we recognise that our breath is powerful and provides a sense of centre for us to come home to? Feeling the sensation of the breath through the nostrils, the ribs expanding, the feeling in the lower back and the rise of the chest is a great start for we then physically can feel our body, even when all else seems foreign. We breathe, therefore we are or Respira ergo sum. 

Most people urge people to take a deep breath. however i prefer the idea of a long breath out first that then allows an easy inhale. 

Some waves are especially enormous. A wave of grief or anger can be more like a tsunami that can throw us off balance. In this confusion, how may we find that moment between reaction and considered action? The "space of time" where perhaps we can make the nanoseconds longer so we can stay with ourselves, our connection, our intention and our truth and not be lulled into the crazy making of reactions and "over-reactions". We know that time is not linear....if someone is 2 minutes late to pick us up in the pouring rain versus 2 minutes being deep in conversation with a long lost friend, time takes on a totally different characteristic. The breath can tap into this timelessness, and enable us to see the world, and ourselves more clearly. It can give us the space we are needing when we need it the most.

We often only reach this place where we need to know the importance of breath when we discover something else within us. It may be when the shore looks too horrible, grey and dank or that beyond the waves there is a glimpse of possibility of newness, or in the process of delving into a performance role. Paul Theroux said "as a traveller we don't know where we are going".

We trust that the path ahead will unfold, step by step, breath by breath. "Let us sail beyond the sunset...." 

How might we take a leap of faith and harness our inner most breath, so that we might be able to be in deep connection with ourselves. To be on top of the wave, and then land safely onto new unchartered, and unspoilt shores. 

So close your eyes for that's a lovely way to be
Aware of things your heart alone was meant to see....

Don't try to fight the rising sea
Don't fight the moon the stars above
and don't fight me...

By now we know the wave is on its way to be
Just catch the wave don't be afraid of loving me.

The Wave" by Tom Jobim,

Caves: echoes of the past

“For echo is the soul of the voice exciting itself in hollow places.” 

                                   ― Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient

The Newdegate Cave at Hastings  was glorious. Cheeky, and filled with a lightness that desired interplay. Many small chambers that resonated with a gloriousness remnant of some of the best cathedrals in the world. A long acoustic. Longing to be sung in. A symphony of sorts...

Newdegate Cave, Hastings Tasmania

So it was with a great appreciation that I had been largely on my own whilst I have sung and explored these caves. The sense of stillness is deeply satisfying. There is something again about residing in the silence, and then making sounds from the ethereal heavens which seems to open up hidden places. 

I was reminded again that I had been to many caves before this year. I went to Sung Sot Cave whilst I was in Vietnam several years ago. My memory of this time was that it felt unstable, and that there were literally thousands of tourists who were traipsing through with little respect for the cave. It had been said many people had taken pieces of the cave and touched much. What i witnessed was this lack of respect for the natural formations. In Australia, and in particular Tasmania, it seems that we are lucky that there is still so much that remains pristine.

Gunns Plains Cave, Tasmania

In Gunns Plains Cave, there was a moment, when the lights were switched off. And the gurgle of the flowing water through the cave was all one could hear. If there was a sound of amniotic fluid, and a recording of this, I imagine that they would be so similar. I was moved to silent tears. A sense of being soothed and safe in the dark. Delicious. Where time stands still. And in that moment I could have stayed there forever. A sign of the divine. Timelessness pervades deeply.

Geoff, the guide spoke of how he is often rejuvenated after a walk through the cave. Going in tired, with aches and ills, and coming out the other side, in a sense reborn with newfound vigour and delight. This was a theme amongst the guides all stating that they always felt better after tours than before. My body felt more energised after being in the caves, and I found my sleep to be deep and strong after such days. 

They do concerts in the cave. This seems to be a new, cool thing to do. It seems the cave energy can now support a new level of sound. Using the cave, and using sound to make the vibration of the cave change. I mean it has been there for over 440 million years. Since the ice age. How amazing is that? And lest we disturb it with our travels, our ramblings, and using sticks on columns to make sound( a little like playing the organ of bones in the Goonies) hopefully it can be preserved for many more years to come.

Cave experiences may not be for everyone, but it seems that once we have tried it, it fits like a comfortable shoe. Picasso describes his creativity as the "descent into caves of initiation and secret knowledge" One woman on a guided trip exclaimed a fearful "OOOH" when it went dark, yet was the first to say "I could have stayed there forever" once the lights were turned back on. Delightful. That seems to be the transformation and residing in process.

Metaphorical language of the caves.

*They caved into their cravings
 *My throat/heart/will caved in"
*Like a child in a magic cave"
*Aladdin's cave

Metaphorical language of caves then reminds me of the breath...

*our first breath

*he took my breath away

*he gasped in fright

*our dying breath

*he was a breath of fresh air
*I walked on air

Newdegate Cave, Hastings

If you know any others, I would love your comments....

Laughing with the guests

"This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival;
A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and attend them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows
who violently sweep your house empty of furniture,
still, treat each guest honourable.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the same, the shame, the malice,
meet them all at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each guest has been sent as a guide from beyond"

Rumi, The Guest House

It can be particularly difficult to stand in our house and laugh at what befalls us. I see around me at the moment many who are struggling. Perhaps it is again that time of year where many are tired, coming out of a long winter and not yet past Christmas lunch. There isn't much laughter at times.

When we have these happenings, often there is only resistance: No breath, stuck jaw, tight throat, tight heart. No flow, no movement. Only stagnation. Often I find that I get stuck. One way I have recently enjoyed getting out of some "stuck" is by negative practice. It works. Ok I am going to think about pink elephants. A lot. Suddenly, with permission to do so, it loses some of its power, and flow can arise again. Stuck, for me, is a sign that I am no longer in flow. That I am no longer truly connected, to myself, nor the world and not my breath. I have used this too with some clients who are dysfluent "Go on, make it the worst stutter that you have ever had!". Sometimes it turns out with full permission that it is their most fluent. 

Laughing eases....

This picture is gorgeous isn't it? It reminds me of the joy of laughter. The free expression we have when we laugh, even in the face of our misfortunes and especially in our joys. When we remain connected to ourselves and do not abandon ourselves. 

I often ask my clients to giggle or laugh to ascertain how we connect to our breath in a more "natural" way. They often look at me with a great deal of uncertainty, until usually we both laugh with the falseness of the situation and not wanting to laugh. Connection to the breath, and ourselves can then occur. For some who have been highly stressed, laughing is not a regular occurrence. And for some in "suits", it is something not usually done at all in the midst of a serious work day (!).

So today, I am going to honour the guests, respect their sweeping, and wait, in hope, for new delights to appear. xx

Power of Ritual

"A ritual cannot be created; it grows in accordance with the need to make meaning" N.Hall

"Everything in nature, the sum total of heavens and of earth become a temple and an altar for the services of God" Hildegard Von Bingen.

Deep breath, Melanie Weidner, 2005

Ritual of 
coffee
naps
daydreams
meditation
goodness
generosity
eating
looking at the moon
stretching
dancing
singing
breathing
being...

Ritual heals and celebrates and brings the microcosm into relationship with the macrocosm. (Matthew Fox)  As I contemplate these ideas this morning, I am aware of how one uses rituals to make oneself at home to bring awareness and familiarity to the day. I awaken, look out the window at the day (today's sunrise was spectacular), stretch, breathe, remember my dreams,  put the radio on, put the coffee machine on, and on it goes. Some of these rituals are common to many, some are common to self only. A ritual can deepen when we do it consciously, according to Woodman. 

So I wonder if we keep up these rituals if others around us don't? How strong is our need for it? Are we able to miss a day? In ancient times, rituals were how we survived and gave meaning to life...honouring the seasons, nature, the weather.  We would have harvested at certain times, the animals would have been at a certain watering hole, the tides would have been at a particular level. These days, our rituals do not mean that we die if we do not do honour them. At least not on a physical level. Our biggest ritual may be opening a bottle of wine at the end of the work week.

I love ritualised experiences. I grew up feasting on religious ritual and song. Marius Schneider is an ethnomusicologist. He states that most public ritual is accompanied by music and song as it was in old. Even the football grand final has a musical prelude.  Rituals used to be secret. There were the rites of passage for both males and females. Even the alphabet used to be secret apparently. People still die to this day standing up for their religious beliefs and rituals. 

Tea tree lake, Sister's beach, Rocky Cape National Park, Tasmania

Deep feminine is about ritual, magic, eternity, altered states of consciousness, art, music, lunar cycles, intuition. Ritual is also the primary means by which people get their inner houses into order, both at an individual level and as a community. One of my friends spoke of a beautiful Sri Lankan ritual of allowing prosperity into a new house by over-boiling milk onto the stove. 

How do we set up our lives so we can honour the ritual of our lives? Our society rewards those who have "been busy" not necessarily those who have been deep in reflection without 'anything' to show for it. 'Daydreamers' and 'slacking off' come to mind. Often our modern life is, on the whole, highly structured. In the past, my creative flow has felt stifled at times by the rigid set up of modern day. How many of us would like some days to not face the world, instead finish writing that poem, or song, nap or daydream rather than head off to work. I know many creatives whose lives are mixed between "day jobs"  and a few sacred hours of inspiration at the end of the working day. In such a patriarchal society, the deep feminine, or creativity is not often revered. I had a client say to me recently "I thought what you did was B-S at the beginning, but now I know it works. You are awesome" Yes, breathwork and technique is magic. So is being aware of what we are doing. 

Hildegard von Bingen wrote that "authentic ritual helps us find our inner selves." Lately, I have been exploring the deep feminine in relation to caves. I saw a beautiful river that had etched its way through the honeycomb cave last week. It furrowed in unusual ways. The water had found a way through the seemingly impenetrable structure, little by little making a path for itself that was sustainable and which supported its flow. This would have taken hundreds and thousands of years to achieve. It reminded me that nothing is permanent, such in the Buddhist teachings and knowing on a deep level that all things change with time.

Honeycomb Cave, Mole Creek

That is how I feel I am restructuring my world at the moment. Etching out a new course. It requires more structure, but of the kind that supports me on every level, whilst giving the flow the space, and the breath, to move and change course. I am grateful for this new possibility. It also provides hope that the flow can be a force powerful enough to facilitate change through what seems rock-like substances. Something I perceive as dense and solid might shift with time and persistence of flow.  

Whilst in Vanuatu this year, a ritual unexpectedly arose. Routine combined with an unexpected aspect of song resulting in a magical experience. After an operation, unplanned, the whole medical team walked behind a patient's trolley, wheeling him back to the ward. There were many family members on the ward who were singing beautiful songs of their home and hearts. Their melodious voices floated up as if carrying us all on poop'ed wings. Returning their brother, son, child, future elder back to the tribe after surgery. It was a procession of sorts. A handing over. It was honouring, moving and greater than the individual sum of its parts. I was moved, and the occasion was marked as unique and special. A sign of the great feminine. The kind of experience that gives one body shivers. The power of ritual.

xx