‘Where is my faith? Apparently not in jet plane pilots.’

Finding patterns and signs above

and below.

The above photo was taken at an air display put on by five RNZAF Black Falcon jets above St Kilda beach this past weekend. They moved far too quickly for my camera, so no photos of their stunning air ballet moves.

After the jets had gone and while we waited back for the subsequent traffic jam to clear, I took the opportunity to appreciate the ocean swell’s clean, parallel lines. Conditions were perfect for an air display; calm and clear.

After the display I tweeted:

My take on that heart-in-my-mouth air display over St Kilda beach this morning is how terrifying that thin line between the perfection & elegance of sky ballet & the human factor

I did find it terrifying, not being able to stop myself from fearing a wing clip. Where is my faith? Apparently not in jet plane pilots.

Our totara. When I sit outside with a cuppa my eyes stray to its branches, its strength, vigour and life. To Māori, the totara stands for growth. This is my prayer for this year 2023 – to thrive, like the totara – true and straight. And not just me, but all my whānau. Thrive babies! Blossom. Bloom. Flower. Flourish. Prosper. Mushroom. Boom.

On our car’s dashboard, flowers / weeds / dead leaves my granddaughter R picked for me, with love. Reminds me of the very first poetry competition I won way back in the relative innocence of the early 1990’s.

It was a simple, tiny poem about my son – who co-incidentally happens to be the father of the granddaughter in question. It described him at the age of three, running outside to pick me a flower and coming back with a single dandelion’s head, shining like some epitome of love.

Coincidentally (parallel lines, anyone?) the hydrangea head above was presented by another granddaughter – actually, she picked it for her mother but it didn’t make it upstairs so remains downstairs on our kitchen bench, slowly and paradoxically (given that its name means ‘water carrier’) drying out.

‘Variable Winds’ by Michael D. Cooke

Painted by the same son who was the subject of my dandelion poem, this painting’s depiction of wind direction is freakily applicable to present conditions. As I write this, Te-Ika-A-Maui, the North Island of my country, is being brutally battered by a cyclone coming at them full force. All of us are thinking of those affected. Stay safe ngā tāngata katoa.


Writer from Dunedin, New Zealand.

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