In this issue

1. My image of the week

2. Frontispiece-On the importance of ritual and gratitude

3. On the ritual of food

4. Myth markers and the Gift of Mistakes

5. Fevered Mind Links (to make your Sunday morning coffee go cold)

6. End Papers

My image of the week

Frontispiece

On the importance of ritual and gratitude

Atamaarie e te whaanau:

good morning people.

Have you ever noticed that sometimes your truest, most clear thoughts come as you cross the land between sleep and full wakefulness?

I was a little slow getting out of bed this morning, and already the glory of the Milky Way with its Sacred Serpent was beginning to fade as the Earth rolled to the east and surrendered to the coming of day. By the time I stepped outside to stand barefoot on freshly mown grass and feel the softly-surrendering blades between my toes, the stars had become tiny shards of light, gently retreating behind the curtain of day. It's a nice thing to return to te ao kikokiko, the material world, after following the dream lines of the world beyond.

That space Between is where we can set our intentions for the current and coming days. It is where our soul meets Truth, and whatever we think has a quality of authenticity that is quite profound because our monkey mind hasn't quite kicked into gear and begun to put its own spin on things.

Anyway, as I stood in pure silence, without even wind to ruffle the darkness, waiting for the first bird, I began to think about the importance of our rituals, however small they may be, for they shape the matrix of our days and the rhythm of all we do.

We each have those little rituals to begin our day and lead us through it. They may be habitual, but there is nothing wrong with creating shimmering gossamer skeletons to structure our lives. It is those exoskeletons that, in many ways, make us who we are.

On my sixtieth birthday, one of the Waitaha grandmothers gifted me my own copies of Song of Waitaha and Whispers of Waitaha. They followed me around for eight years without once being opened. Somehow I knew the time to read them hadn't yet arrived.

However, that time has come. Think of it this way: you've wandered along a stone wall for years without being aware that there is a doorway in it. Then one day, a door appears, but there is no way of opening it, so you carry on walking past. Then suddenly, you observe a light shining out from under the door, and you begin to pay closer attention. Finally, you realise that the door is open as you approach it. Not only that but there is a welcome mat just outside. So, of course, you are going to enter. Why would you not?

Not long ago, a friend who is far more knowledgeable than me in the ways of Waitaha suggested I recite one of the karakia (prayers) in the book. As the weeks have gone by, that karakia is beginning to integrate into me. If you've ever had to learn a poem, you will know what I mean. In the beginning, you stumble over it, getting the diction and rhythm right. Then one day, you find that you know the next line and the one after that. Before long, you can recite it by heart, an interesting phrase in and of itself, because it implies that it has now sunk within you to the point of being embedded in your heart.

You haven't learned the poem or prayer.

It has learned you.

Every time we pause to align our Self with our own rituals, we strengthen ourselves and stand on our own ground. Our ancestors knew this.

Somehow modern life has made many of us forget the importance of ritual, be it saying grace before a meal, preparing leaf tea in a certain way, or simply taking time for gratitude, for giving thanks for all we have and expect to receive.

On the ritual of food

Once a year, I pay a visit to McDonald's to remind myself why I only go once a year. I realise that some of you will nod in agreement, while others will view what I say as pure heresy.

Have you ever had the experience of going in, wanting only to order a cheeseburger and finding yourself with a full meal? You might be interested to know that there is a reason for that. Like many large corporations, they have spent a fortune on psychologists to help them pick the right colours for their brand. You might be interested to know that their red and gold colour scheme stimulates appetite, and as you study the menus, subconsciously, you are being encouraged to upsize.

My mother (bless her) hated cooking (she told us so!) And her cooking was certainly evidence of that. Except for her trifle, Sherry thickened with sponge custard and cream, enough Sherry to make you think twice about driving around when the booze bus was in town. She did what she had to do (feed her children) as quickly and efficiently as possible. It had only marginally more flavour than a Big Mac.

My father, on the other hand, was a superb cook. We always looked forward to the weekends when Dad would cook, for he always produced amazing flavour-rich meals. Admittedly they were Kiwi Kai from the 1950s and 60s when anybody who used garlic was regarded with intense suspicion, but they were memorable. His scones needed to be anchored to stop them floating away, and he seemed to have an encyclopaedia of slices stored away in his head. Whenever I asked him what was in them, he would always reply in an airy tone: "oh, a bit of this and that." He never divulged his recipes, and I think he made them up as he went along. No two recipes were ever quite the same, simply because he prepared food by instinct. To the best of my knowledge, he never once looked at a recipe book.

On the other hand, Mum was a religious follower of any recipe she attempted. I have memories of her with one finger on the recipe (The Edmonds Cookery book) while she assembled the ingredients for her latest attempt. Her cooking tended to be an arm wrestle between inclination and obligation. Obligation usually won.

Now those who have visited me (I have an open door, and everyone is always welcome) know that I love cooking. I love dancing with herbs and spices, making it up as I go along. There is a lot of my father in me, I suppose. Occasionally I will attempt to follow a recipe. Inevitably I don't quite get it right, and even more inevitably, I can't control myself, and before I know it, I have added "a bit of this and that".

Living alone means I have two choices: I can eat a lot of tinned stuff and takeaways, or I can treat cooking as yet another creative activity, where I try to produce something unique. Perhaps that is the blessing/curse of being an artist. I much prefer the latter.

Some years ago, I spent ten days in an ashram at the top of the South Island of New Zealand. It was eye-opening in many ways. It was both blissful and challenging. The food was a particular challenge because I am an omnivore by inclination, and spending a week "going vegan" was a shock to my system. However, I coped.

Food was/is an essential and integral part of the Satyananda tradition. A lot of time is spent preparing it according to a set of predefined rituals (that word again). Food is sacred since the nature of what you put into your body has a powerful effect on the mind and soul.

I got it.

Food is far more than a way to avoid dying of starvation. We absorb the energy and mauri of the foods we put into ourselves. Not only is that the individual components, but how they work together, that has a powerful effect upon our well-being. Somebody said, "you are what you eat", and I think there is a great deal of truth in that. Food is far more significant than what we give it credit for. Our attitude to food will dictate our attitude to ourselves and those around us.

And we need to reflect upon that.

On top of that, there is the nature of our relationship with others in the part that food plays. Whether we gather together as family or friends to share food or eat alone (remembering that we are never alone-there is always the Silent Guest), food is a necessary and highly-significant part of our daily journey through the mysteries of life.

So we might well consider that our attitude to and preparation of food lives along a continuum, with mass-produced multinational corporate opportunism (I'm looking at you McDonald's and Burger King) at one end, or the sacredness of ritual cooking at the other.

You pay your money.

You make your choice.

You live with the implications and consequences.

Myth markers and the Gift of Mistakes

Magnum photographer, David Hurn, who should know a thing or two, makes a statement about photography:

When you think about it, he has a point. All genres of photography pay homage to his statement and, depending on the type of photography, will lean towards one more than the other. Landscape photographers will be more aware of where to stand, while street photographers will be more engaged in when to make the exposure. Of course sports photographers will be very aware of the right time to release the shutter. The more you reflect upon it, the more you realise just how true it is.

Henri Cartier-Bresson is credited with the invention of the phrase "decisive moment". In fact that is not true. In his seminal book, The Minds Eye, he talks about it, but not in the way most people have come to understand it. For him, both decisions were of equal importance, and when you study his work you are aware that he was both sensitive to location and deeply aware of the correct moment to select from the rolling filmstrip of life sliding past.

For as long as I have been involved in photography, HCB has been an idol of mine. I studied his pictures in books, trying to understand how he saw. However, there is no substitute for seeing a real print, because then you get far more information about his process from pre-visualisation to realisation.

In the mid-1980s, Magnum put together a retrospective exhibition of their best and greatest works, which toured the planet for some years. When it came to Christchurch, I had the joy of going to see it. Many of my photographic idols all in one place. One of the alcoves at the Art Gallery had been set aside for a single HCB picture, one of his most famous. Of course, when I turned the corner and saw it, my heart skipped a beat. I moved towards it, eager to get up close and personal with it-while I could. However, as I approached, a feeling of uneasiness came upon me which increased the closer I got. Finally, when I could go no further, I was having a terrible meltdown.

The picture WASN'T SHARP!

Not only that, it was slightly OUT OF FOCUS!

I felt betrayed, like finding out that Santa Claus isn't real.

But as I wrestled with the gnarled net of my emotions, I could not stop looking at the picture. It was simply too powerful, and made such an important statement about life and the human condition.

And it didn't matter that it wasn't as perfect as I had been led to believe a picture must be. Sometimes a photograph is so powerful and important that technical perfection doesn't really matter.

After a couple of hours of satiating myself on the best of the best, I went for coffee and reflection.

And came to the conclusion that it was okay to make mistakes, for mistakes are the portal to new adventures.

An afterthought.

You might be interested to know that HCB never developed or printed his own work. He had sufficient personal wealth that he didn't have to spend any time in a darkroom. Other than to supervise.

When I was looking at the print on the wall in the gallery, I shifted my head slightly and looked at it from an oblique angle, which enabled me to see all the retouching marks on the print. There were dozens of them. Somewhere, at some time, somebody had spent hours getting rid of all those slight blemishes and dust spots, painstakingly filling them in with dyes and a very fine brush.

However, there are questions here, particularly around the concept of moment.

What is a moment?

How long is a moment? Is it a fraction of a second or something longer?

And where is the truth in a moment?

I look forward to hearing your responses.

Fevered Mind Links (to make your Sunday morning coffee go cold)

The best photography of 2021 — newatlas.com

At the end of a stellar year for photography contests we have hand-picked a selection of our favorite shots from the past 12 months. This best-of-the-best gallery includes stylish drone shots, psychedelic macro photography and some mind-bending landscapes.

Honouring the caribou, in dreams and memories from an Innu singer-songwriter — aeon.co

Aeon is not-for-profit and free for everyone. Join our newsletter.

Best Cooking & Baking Recipes | Edmonds Cooking — edmondscooking.co.nz

Best Ever Scones 7

Greek Roasted Fish with Vegetables — www.eatingwell.com

Rating: 5 stars Delicious healthy and easy! I made it as is and wouldn't change a thing. (not yet-Ed.)

The competitive, secretive and expensive world of eating bugs — www.newsroom.co.nz

Insects are popular delicacies and cheap sources of protein around the world, but in New Zealand and much of the Western world the idea has not yet found its legs Edible insects sprung onto New Zealand's food scene circa 2016.

Through you — psyche.co

A glorious short film!

Winners of the world's most spectacular photo contest: The Pano Awards — newatlas.com

An incredible aerial shot of Iceland’s "braided rivers" has taken first place in the annual Pano Awards, a photography competition dedicated to showcasing the magnificence of panoramic photography. In its 10th year the contest received nearly 5,000 entries from over 70 countries.

The Third Self: Mary Oliver on Time, Concentration, the Artist’s Task, and the Central Commitment of the Creative Life — www.themarginalian.org

“In the wholeheartedness of concentration,” the poet Jane Hirshfield wrote in her beautiful inquiry into the effortless effort of creativity, “world and self begin to cohere. With that state comes an enlarging: of what may be known, what may be felt, what may be done.

How To Create a Glowing Effect in Adobe Photoshop — blog.spoongraphics.co.uk

In today’s video tutorial I’m going to share some useful techniques for creating a glowing effect in Photoshop to make objects appears as if they are illuminated.

Fossils of a Prehistoric Rainforest Hide in Australia’s Rusted Rocks — www.nytimes.com

Australia’s Central Tablelands, hundreds of miles northwest of Sydney, are dominated today by grasses and spindly trees.

An Environmentalist’s Lessons for an Improvisational Life — thereader.mitpress.mit.edu

Improvisation is the essence of environmental learning, sparking the imagination, stimulating creativity, and helping us reinvigorate how we think about our residency on Earth. Photo: Jr Korpa, via Unsplash I recently took a walk in the woods on a rainy, cool, late September morning.

End Papers

– Mark Twain

Finally.

One last thought for the day.

Long before Werner Heisenberg and his colleagues discovered quantum mechanics and the interconnectedness of everything, the ancients and mystics knew all about it. I do not doubt that when the New Physics became fashionable, yogis llamas and shamans worldwide laughed their heads off.

A beautiful Vedic metaphor, entitled Indra's Net, says it all rather beautifully. I will leave it here with you for those who want something philosophical to contemplate.

May your day and your week be filled with joy, Light and Love.

He mihi nunui arohaa ki a koutou

Much love to you all