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Showing posts from April, 2017

People of the Book. Ancestors.

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Brief historical note: Between the 9th century and the 1400's, Muslims rulers in Spain not only tolerated Jews, but gave them many privileges.  They became known as 'The People of the Book.'  During many centuries great interchange of learning took place especially in Cordoba, Andalucía, until 1492 , when the  Jews were brutally expelled from the country they knew as home, unless they converted to Christianity. Here, today in usually sunny Andalucia, it's a cold wet morning. So unusual.  The plants, the trees, and the thirsty land effortlessly absorb the colourless  rain. I would light the fire if I had any kindling or  if I had a rain jacket, I'd go looking for wood.  On the other side of the river, there are  lots of sticks and bark and hollow bamboo, but the only  bridge is narrow, made just for visiting sheep and goats . Humm. Dare I try it with one crutch, and no handrail? Question.  How to make...

One gesture. One person. One moment in time.

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Yesterday. This is how change happens, or doesn’t happen. One gesture. One person. One moment in time held, or let slip. I love hobbling through the dew in the morning, calling to the hens, telling them what delicious scraps they’re about to get, opening the stiff gate into the chicken run, and then searching for their eggs. Usually they each lay one every 24 hours. At 11 am, I sat for an hour in the eucalyptus forest with a group of  young mums with their babies and young children.  Close by was the forest  bar, the dry river bed, the gypsies ponies, and the busy main street is not far away. The sun was shining, the mood  lively.  They were planning a fund raiser in the forest for  RCK - an organisation which provides daily meals for thousands of refugees in France. Their inspirational young leader Bridie, is fired with passionate enthusiasm. I listened and watched. There was something in the air. Then seemingly sud...