Category Archives: happiness

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in money we trust

todays blog is a song which as we hurtle towards the silly season it might be worth thinking about

If in money we trust If in money we trust

And you bite the dust

And it’s not enough If in money you trust 

But it’s not enough

And you bite the dust
If in money you trust
Where’s God?
Where’s God?
Where’s God?
Where’s God?
If in money we trust
If in money we trust
No substitute
No substitute
No substitute
When god is dead
And it’s not enough
Then in money you trust
Then they call the bluff
When god is dead
And money’s not enough
In what do you trust
When it’s not enough?

Where’s God?
Where’s God?
Where’s God?
Where’s God?
When god is dead
And it’s not enough
What substitute
What substitute
When God is dead
And it’s not enough
When God is dead
And it’s not enough

If in money you trust

If in money you trust
But it’s not enough
Then you call the bluff
Where’s God?
Where’s God?
Where’s God?
Where’s God?
No substitute
No substitute

You’ve got to think it through again
You’ve got to think it through again
You’ve got to think it through again
You’ve got to think it through again
Got to think it through again
You got to think it through again
Got to think it through again
Got to think it through again
Songwriters: Van Morrison

If in Money We Trust lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Van Morrison

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BEING AND DREAMING RESTING BEING HUMAN

Life is ‘full’ and we often feel the need to be ‘busy’.
Im not opposed to ‘hard work’, Ive been in ‘the work force ‘since 1974, when I was fourteen.
These photos below were taken on a recent weekend ‘retreat’, the need to retreat and be is part of being human.
Don’t fall for the ‘Christian Work Ethic’ which makes one feel guilty for taking time to be.
Be still and know I am God, is often said but rarely practiced.

MAKE TIME TO TAKE TIME

Take me back, take me way, way, way back
On Hyndford Street
Where you could feel the silence at half past eleven
On long summer nights
As the wireless played Radio Luxembourg
And the voices whispered across Beechie River
In the quietness as we sank into restful slumber in the silence
And carried on dreaming, in God
And walks up Cherry Valley from North Road Bridge, railway line
On sunny summer afternoons
Picking apples from the side of the tracks
That spilled over from the gardens of the houses on Cyprus Avenue
Watching the moth catcher working the floodlights in the evenings
And meeting down by the pylons
Playing round Mrs. Kelly’s lamp
Going out to Holywood on the bus
And walking from the end of the lines to the seaside
Stopping at Fusco’s for ice cream
In the days before rock ‘n’ roll
Hyndford Street, Abetta Parade
Orangefield, St. Donard’s Church
Sunday six-bells, and in between the silence there was conversation
And laughter, and music and singing, and shivers up the back of the neck
And tuning in to Luxembourg late at night
And jazz and blues records during the day
Also Debussy on the third program
Early mornings when contemplation was best
Going up the Castlereagh hills
And the cregagh glens in summer and coming back
To Hyndford Street, feeling wondrous and lit up inside
With a sense of everlasting life
And reading Mr. Jelly Roll and Big Bill Broonzy
And “Really The Blues” by “Mezz” Mezzrow
And “Dharma Bums” by Jack Kerouac
Over and over again
And voices echoing late at night over Beechie River
And it’s always being now, and it’s always being now
It’s always now
Can you feel the silence?
On Hyndford Street where you could feel the silence
At half past eleven on long summer nights
As the wireless played Radio Luxembourg
And the voices whispered across Beechie River
And in the quietness we sank into restful slumber in silence
And carried on dreaming in God.
Songwriters
VAN MORRISON
Published by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

 Street Lyrics | MetroLyrics 


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A true Christian path would lead them into the untidy stables of the poor and oppressed, to shovel shit with the Messiah. Instead they remain spiritually shipwrecked, floundering on the shoals of their own ambitions and indifference, slick and ridiculous in their genuflections to greed.
From B Cockburn: Rumours of Glory: on thoughts of Brennan Manning


Over the past seven weeks I have had time to read and reflect while a fractured ankle healed.

I read, listened to music and watched movies and documentaries.

I was challenged  as to how and why I do what i do as i loiter.


I was challenged  as to my  responsibility in the communities i live and move, so now I’m back on my feet, i need to implement the “KISS’ method…….

                                                               KEEP IT SIMPLE STUPID!!!!!













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NOT ‘FEELING IT’ ANYMORE???

meeting many people who are not ‘feeling it no more’
having grown up being told ‘its not a feeling its a reality’, sounded a little too scientific for me, after all we have been taught the ‘rational’, which happens in the head is all that is to be trusted, where as the ‘irrational’ or the ‘gut feeling’ is not to be trusted.

as someone who likes to cook and who worked as a cook for many years, if I look at cooking only from a process of science, it loses all interest and ‘feeling’ for me. Sure understanding what is happening while i cook is important, that ‘feeling’ of satisfaction and creativity is not controlled by the scientific understanding i have of the process.

sadly for many organised ‘religion’ or even ‘modern’ ‘church’ leaves a deep sense for some of disconnect. We have designed a process by which we assume is ‘the way’ which more often than not leaves no room for contemplation, dialogue rather a talk fest often controlled by one or two people.

Have to get back, have to get back the base
I need to talk to somebody, I can trust
Too many cooks are tryin to spoil the broth
I cant feel it in my throat, thats all she wrote
Im not feeling it no more, Im not feeling it anymore
Not feeling it no more, not feeling it anymore
When I was high at the party, everything looked good
I was seein through rose colored glasses
Not seein the wood for the trees
I started out in normal operation
But I just ended up in doubt
All my drinking buddies, they locked me out
Im not feeling it no more, Im not feeling it anymore
No feeling it no more, Im tryin to give you the score
You see me up there baby, Im on the screen
But I know better now, its so unreal
If this is success, then somethings awful wrong
‘Cause I bought the dream and I had to play along
Im not feeling it no more, Im not feeling it anymore
Im tryin to give you the score, Im not feeling it no more
We all know that money, dont buy you love
You just get a job and somewhere to live
You have to look for happiness, within yourself
And dont go chasin, thinkin that it is somewhere else
Im not feeling it no more, Im not feeling it anymore
Baby Im tryin to give you the score
Im not feeling it no more
I was pretending all the time
I was givin everybody what they wanted
And I lost my peace of mind
And all I ever wanted was simply just to be me
All you ever need is the truth
And the truth will set you free
Im not feeling it no more, Im not feeling it anymore
Im tryin to give you the score, just like I did before
Im not feeling it no more, Im not feeling it anymore
Im not feeling it no more, baby, Im just trying to give you the score
Im not feeling it no more, not feeling it anymore
Not feeling it no more
Not feeling it no more, baby



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life is like a cup of hot chocolate

Its 645 am on an overcast Tuesday morning, people are out, running, riding, exercising or rowing along the yarra river. People every where are rushing to work or  going about their daily business,
not me I’m loitering, with a thermos of hot chocolate blended from several ingredients in my hands.

The homes under the bridge are silent as residents sleep, stirring occasional, unaware of  the activity, seagulls wait impatiently for them to stir as they await the crumbs of their food.

I sit quietly, waiting, watching and contemplating, as the residents continue their slumber.

After some time I leave the thermos and cups at the entry to the home under the bridge and go about the day, wondering who will i meet today, whose story will i hear and what will become of the hot chocolate??


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life is never dull

sitting around a fire recently having enjoyed a meal and conversation with friends old and new, i was reminded we are not all privileged to enjoy such times.

just a few days later i was asked if i would pick up a person I had known for around fourteen years who was just being released from jail. i was honoured to reconnect with this person as we begin to journey  together to connect in with community.

The picture called Jesus in the breadline, says it all really, Jesus is not far from anyone of us.

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what you see depends on where you stand

 When Jesus walked the streets of towns and villages, he saw stuff and people which are often easy to miss or ignore.
Maybe it says something about where we stand and what we see??
It never fails to amaze me, that what might appear to us to be the lest, Jesus saw as the most important.

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Music to my ears

as I write this I am with my partners siblings and partners in NZ.

Last Sunday I was honoured to hear a local musician and artist as he played two new songs.
One was a conversation with his wife who died two years ago, the other called Come to me…..

Come to me you poor
With nothing to your name
And the poor who just have money
You can do the same
Walk with me I love you

Much like indifference being the opposite of love and hate, being poor is about what you have and what you don’t have?

As I loiter on the streets of Melbourne I go to the  ‘top end’ of town’ to watch the faces on the street, and I wonder what stories I would hear, and what story they would like to hear?

I think it’s a mistake to make assumptions about people,’rich’ or ‘poor’.


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