May 23, 2005Among the events that transpire
in the Mullumbimby neighborhood is the Nimbin Mardi Grass.
The town of Nimbin is known mainly for its agricultural products,
which include an excellent cheese, and also cannabis. The Mardi Grass
is its annual weed festival, which offers a bud-judging contest, a
parade, and the usual trappings of ag fiestas everywhere.
I haven't yet made the trek out to Nimbin, but I did visit Byron Bay
several times this trip, to enjoy its beaches (one day watching a
pod of at least two dozen dolphins competing with gulls to fish
in surf just offshore), and several times to watch movies, including
a benefit screening of Travelers & Magicians, filmed entirely in
Bhutan, directed by Khyentse Norbu Rinpoche, produced by Raymond
Steiner, a friend of Rose.
Mostly though I hung out at Rose's place, enjoying the flora &
fauna, the including fruit-eating bats that noshed late in the palms,
and a sizeable owl that seemed particularly intent on drawing our
attention with his broad-winged night flights. But the most amusing
visitor of this trip was the python.
Animal activity in the region increases in spring and autumn,
when the reptiles and amphibians respectively emerge from & proceed
into hibernation. For many years now Rose's home has been a python hub,
and on May 14 what she reckons is a third-generation specimen made its
appearance on the deck just outside the kitchen, looking both for a
last meal before its long winter sleep, and also a place to bed down
for the cold season. We had known it was in the neighborhood, as a snake
skin fitting its description (young, being only about five feet long)
was sloughed just outside her bedroom a couple of weeks before. On this
Saturday though it emerged into the open, wandering about for a while
and drinking some milk that we put out for it before climbing onto a
pile of kindling. Finally it elected to coil up under a square steel
slab on which fires are enkindled.
The serpent spent a quiet afternoon there, disturbed not at all by the
show a sizable goanna (monitor lizard) put on as it scrabbled around
on the tin roof for several minutes before taking a dive into the underbrush.
Came the evening, and time to ignite a fire, and we were in a quandary:
leave the python there to get heated up as the fire progressed, then
emerge in a potentially infuriated state; or possibly infuriate him before
beginning, by dragging him our of his comfortable lair. After some minutes
of conference I donned a pair of gloves (pythons will bite if irritated,
and while they have no venom they can cause tissue damage & pain), located
his tail, and carefully began to pull.
As he was not ready to go, he corded his ample muscles to resist. Though
I pulled on him with a substantial fraction of my strength, he wouldn't
budge. Dilemma: pull too hard, and he'll be damaged; let go now, and he'll
go back to his hideaway, to possibly get roasted.
Fortunately he elected then to emerge, evidently concluding that what he
though was a safe haven was nothing of the sort. Goading him into a
cardboard box, I put him near the railing, which he slowly went over, to
spend the night somewhere beneath us. Between that excitement, and a later
mysterious ongoing snort/screech (potentially a koala) that partners with
a curious wing ruffling (the owl?), it was a busy evening, though by no
means as shocking as the night a few years back when Rose had a couple of
yoga students over and one walked right into a full-grown python hanging
down from the rafters with the full moon backlighting its sinuous bulk.
Most evenings there were not quite so stimulating; the sweetest were those
on which the stars were all out, the owl would hoot, and a marvelous little
band of insects that sound like tinkling bells would serenade us from the
frangipani orchard ...
May 8, 2005 I had just arrived in Oz when I was
promptly attacked by the first leech of the season. As often happens,
I noticed it only afterwards, when my sandal felt sticky as I exited
from the dentist's office; I looked down and there a thick film of blood
covering my sole. This area is very much "where the wild things are":
it is not unusual to hear wild dogs howling on the hills at night, and
for some reason giant ravens have taken to pecking on Rose's windows,
and eating her tea candles.
But honors for the wildest vision of the fortnight go to Dan Reid and
his wife Snow, who enjoy a beautiful view of both mountains & sea from
their beautiful home not far outside Mullumbimby (that property is currently
for sale; you can take a look at it at
www.danreid.org). I had heard of
Danny long before I met him, maybe twenty years ago, from Maxine Jennings,
the mother of Cathy Cannon, my friend with whom I stay when in Honolulu;
it is truly a small world. I finally met Danny here in Australia, three
or four years ago, and now each time I visit Mullumbimby I have tea with
him & Snow (alias Yuki), who hails from Taiwan. She & Danny are currently
in the tea business, supplying top quality oolong tea and tea paraphernalia
(pots, cups, &c) (
www.taiwanoolongtea.com).
It is always a pleasure to visit Danny & Snow, as we always return from
them with excellent gifts (this time fine cigarillos and superb white sage).
But the real treat on this occasion was a surprise: a life-size bronze
sculpture of a naked dakini (a particular variety of ethereal being).
A local woman named Ella had apparently kept getting dreams of this
particular dakini, dreams so persistent that they eventually drove Ella
to make a sculpture of her, naked, seated on an asana (yogic seat) made
of three skulls. She sports a jata (i.e. her hair is matted into dreadlocks)
into which are worked small skulls. Her hands are raised as if conducting
or directing some ritual; her face is most expressive, the very picture
of concentrated calm. When Ella showed this clearly inspired piece to a
Tibetan lama he immediately identified her as the Black Vajra Varahi,
and shortly thereafter hired Ella as his personal sculptress, to do a
whole series of images of deities for his monastery in India. Now, as
lla packs to depart for Dharamsala, she is trying to find a customer
for the Black Vajra Varahi. At first she had it displayed for public
view at a local cinema (!), but fortunately Danny was able to convince
Ella to send her to his place until a buyer appeared. Now she gets fresh
flowers and incense daily, as she looks serenely out over the ocean
immersed in the intensely of her own reality...
Link to News of the Past
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