Nature's Place

Jumper …

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So named for their ability to leap a good distance with some accuracy these spiders are the cuddly arachnids. They display a curiosity and fearlessness I would only expect to find in a pet or otherwise domesticated creature.

This one, a male with his punk hair-do, was on the door handle and I caught him just as he fell as I touched it. So I put him on a flower where he sat, maybe to catch something to eat …

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If pix or text don’t appear as normal that’s because I am using a different computer and having to improvise on what software I use on elements. It’s a different screen too, so can’t tell if pix look what I am used to.

My computer crashed and I haven’t been able to get it fixed, it may just be dead and gone. I should be able to recover files eventually but I’m not in any hurry, as long as there are bugs in the garden to photograph.

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Sometimes it’s a ‘blessing in disguise’ to lose what has grown over a period of years, a form of surgery. An opportunity to start again, at least to keep it simpler.

If I learn anything by experience it’s that, complicated fills the space reserved for peace – of mind.

And we do according to our … capacity or willingness to see through the imagery.

© Mark Berkery … CLICK any picture to enlarge in a new tab …

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Advertising …

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Everything’s an ad, symbolises or points to something else. Can’t get away from it, in relationship – existence.

This spider was waving to another spider across the way, part of the mating ritual I believe – having seen other spiders do similar that was obviously ritual.

Some are very demonstrative, colourful, eager. Others wary, reticent, indifferent. People can be emotional too, carrying the weight of particular past, as we tend to.

No matter, we do our best to transcend the robotic and all’s equal in the end. The end being the absence of all that existential commotion.

© Mark Berkery … CLICK any picture to enlarge in a new tab …

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The Dead of …

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Male and Female Lynx spiders

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… winter, if that it be.

Sun shines so much I don’t know you see.

But the absence of little ones is telling to me.

Time spent in the garden used mostly to pee.

So no pix to post on this dark wintry night.

Crows only about that do take to flight.

Maybe a pic from the past is aright.

One from a world that can afright.

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Time ebbs and flows, form comes and goes, how hard it sticks depends on a coupla tricks.

Tricks as in feeling for the bottom to clear out the mud, looking not thinking that settles the water, reaching with seeing to the emptiness above and beyond. Where there’s nothing to take or to give. Til the nothing I am in all things is all there is left, until …

Time ebbs and flows, form comes and goes …

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© Mark Berkery … CLICK any picture to enlarge in a new tab …

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Of a Certain Nature

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An unusual place to find a Huntsman, atop a flower, in the morning.

 

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A big Drone fly landed on a nearby flower. Standoff, in my mind …

 

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But didn’t get caught by this spider, this time …

 

… gardening, and how not to do it.

Until recently my attitude to the garden has been of a minimalist approach; determine, sometimes intuit, location, plant a selection, water and feed – with little to no regard for the suitability of the earth it happens on and in. Lazy, yes, being a poor study of things I don’t ‘see’ the need for.

Then something happened, I stopped wasting energy in one area of my life, thinking I ‘should’ apply myself where I just didn’t fit, and that energy became available for other things. So I began to look deeper into where I do apply myself without the ‘should’.

The notion of growing a certain plant, for its wonderful flowers, slowly grew in my mind and I found myself thoroughly involved in researching how to do it the best I can – not unlike a root-bound seedling released from its constraining pot and transferred to fertile soil.

Of course, because nothing is certain in a world of change, it may not turn out as I envisage but I will have done my best – and that’s what counts, the doing, not the end.

I still love the little creatures, when they show themselves, but maybe I will focus a little more on the flowers that feed them – in all their ways.

When the garden’s soil develops and spring comes around.

… not the end.

© Mark Berkery … CLICK any picture to enlarge in a new tab …

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A Hunting We Will Go …

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With the spiders having lasted the winter so well they are now set up in the garden to reap an early explosion of tiny life – the small forms upon which the bigger are built.

That’s the way it is here, everything feeds off something else, so everybody dies – imagine if they didn’t … And life goes on, in another form, endlessly – our infinitude.

At present the warmed morning air is filled with miniscule flying creatures and the webs are everywhere, apparently strategically set up to make the most of it.

I am often tempted to interfere and rescue a bee, though rarely see one caught, or destroy a web if it gets too big – but I don’t. Everything needs its time.

Time to move on, always moving on … in the endless work of learning to fly.

Mark Berkery … CLICK any picture to enlarge in a new tab, they do look better bigger – FireFox – for me

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Spider Me Blue

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Or what colour suits you, catch one or two … It’s not so difficult, ladies and gentlemen, elegant too. They sit in their web and nothing disturbs them except by accident, the spider’s boon.

Watching one floating in the sunshine as the breeze caused it to breathe, in and out, into it flew a fly, of some sort. Straight onto it she was, from a standing start in the cold air to the centre of the web and something to eat – gone.

Fingers on every thread that matters, she knows her way, her home. She knows her stuff, her job, and don’t go falling into her tricksy web or walk into her on a flower or you’ll never get out. She is made for catching things, gripped in her thorny embrace, bit by long fangs a-dripping.

Paralysed, liquefied and drank all in. Nothing but a husk to show where you’d been. That’s her way, to waste not of the bounty that fills her, makes her grow and mate to fill her need for little ones – instinctively you could say, intelligently nevertheless. That’s our nature, my nature, like it or not, come what may.

Mark Berkery ……. Don’t forget to CLICK on any picture to enlarge it in a new tab – best in FireFox – for me

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Winter’s End

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As the weather pulses cold and warmer it is apparent the winter is coming to an end here in Brisbane. For some time I have resisted cutting the grass as to provide the natural flowering of Dandelions of different kinds, and the other smaller flowers that only grow with the grass. I do enjoy seeing what emerges when nature is left to itself, and that it provides for the tiny creatures that persist throughout the season.

Lately the garden Orb Spider has been showing through as the survivor, possibly as there was a big mother to be seen up in the trees for the last few months, web up to two metres across anchored on stays that were up to seven metres long and that no doubt caught much of what passed through the garden, enough to thrive on. Of butterflies, moths and such whose caterpillars still also persist in the shaded greenery.

This was one of the biggest ‘babies’ I’ve seen of the many there are, webs all over the place whose makers I interrupt as little as possible. I am not much inclined to shape nature except to allow what may be and occasionally to introduce a new source of food or colour, one often being the other.

Except amongst the few there is still a certain reaction to spiders, even the smallest can have lasting effects if it bites. Respect is the key, aware we share our gardens – of all kinds – with all kinds.

We are only one kind. Sometimes not kind at all …

Mark Berkery ……. Don’t forget to CLICK on any picture to enlarge it in a new tab – best in FireFox – for me

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Come Fly with Me …

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Couriers of the gods, picking up and delivering packages around our nature, settling down or waking up, and sometimes being sidetracked from their path in spider webs and swatters of other kinds.

They love a good flower as much as the next, a natural appreciation for food, who would guess, an integral part of the complex we are in the existential order.

And of course, there must be truth to the fact, droplets of intelligence, wondrous creations, magnificent life.

Jewelled droplets in the eye of this beholder.

Not a sufferer in sight …

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Mark Berkery ……. Don’t forget to CLICK on any picture to enlarge it in a new tab – best in FireFox – for me

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Death by Any Means?

I have an old friend I met recently who is going to die. I met her in my explorations of the Euthanasia or Right to Die movement, which is a story in itself and I will go into it another time. We are all going to die but my friend knows her time is up and she wants to go peacefully and not in one of our ‘reputable – for their lack of care’ retirement homes or on the hospital production line where you can be assured of only one thing, the indignity of institutionalisation and the subjection to the will of others that implies.

But she has to go alone because nobody close understands or is fearless enough to stand by her and just speak of death, and do what is necessary. So I wrote her this when she asked if it is ok to speak of her death.

What a shame it is on the status quo you have to speak to a stranger about dying, the most intimate experience in consciousness. If I was there I would stand with you and by you. But the times and technology allow this, so this will have to do – isn’t that good.

If people can’t be spoken to of death, to you of your death, then a pox on their houses – that’s just karma, to wake them up to the suffering they cause by their belief in it, or their fear of the believers – a belief in fear. I know what it is to be alone, to do what everybody else thinks is wrong, with no fallback position. But alone doesn’t have to be lonely.

I have spent a lifetime, almost, tearing the insanity of ‘religious’ (or other equally absurd) belief from my eyes – planted by the Irish Christians, and our stupefied society, by the way of things – and I won’t let them stop me conveying my hard earned vision of what this life and death is. I claim the same right to speak.

It’s dying alone you refer to. I don’t know your situation and I am not there yet but I have touched the darkness and my mind would reel without right preparation – having looked at it for long enough and to know I have nothing left to do. Here’s what I see.

Death is as natural as the sunshine. Only people make a problem of it – in their fear, many older mature cultures have respect for it and for those on their way. Because we are of the Earth and not of the mind that fears and knows the lovelessness of the world. The Earth is not the world.

The Earth is where everything natural happens without anything holding on to it and making a problem. The Earth is where everything beautiful is born and nothing gives up until it’s time is inevitable, when there is no other option. We, as humans, can add to that ‘when there is no other acceptable option’, somewhat because of our misplaced obsession with living longer that has devised custom and technology to prolong living beyond the natural death of the body – an absurdity if ever there was one.

The Earth is a place of great wonder and beauty and when the time comes we die back into it, as we came out of it, whether we believe it or not. And what we die back into is not just the body to the earth but the Soul (if you like) to the Mother earth is. Earth is the mother of us all, no? In every way we come from the earth, by the power of the sun.

And when you die it is the love of the mother you die back into, the love that turns to wonder and beauty here. So when you leave, leave the world of fear and belief behind and embrace the original love we come from. It’s inside now, downwards, or up towards the dark sun.

Every death is a birth into a higher octave of being, the way a musical note ascends to the next and leaves the last behind – for it to be. And every death with a knowledge of birth is a death of a pioneer, the birth of a truly noble creature in another place.

It doesn’t all have to be rational, or make sense. Just follow the ring of truth out of this place, when the time is right.

Encouraging death? No, encouraging fearlessness, encouraging courage – the real stuff of nobility.

Clarity is your best friend, in the end.

Be easy, as much as can be.

Total peace? In existence? Where every thing is hard-wired to hold to living, to the last drop? I don’t think so. I think that simple instinct to live, that turns to the fear of death upon reflection, will always be a disturbance in some measure, especially as one sees death’s approach.

What I ask myself is have I done what needs doing, is ‘my house’ in order. If the answer is ‘Yes’ then it’s only fear and I can do what I know is right and acknowledge the simple good. It’s good to be in the senses, to see the nature, feel the breeze, hear the bird – or whatever is ‘sensible’.

And it is good to go to sleep, after a long and tiring day, down through the sensation inside. Where, along the way, I may dream of conflict but just as here, it will pass if I don’t hold on. And as I fall deeper into sleep the fear – and the fearer – dies, like the Chimera it always was.

Maybe that resonance is the ‘ring’ of truth, the bell calling me home? Saying, it’s all right now. There is nothing to fear any more.

Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture to enlarge in a new tab – best in FireFox

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