More comments on froglessness from my previous post. Quite honestly I'm not sure I want to be frogless. As a human, it's through my senses that I learn about the world and the beings in it, and it is the understanding I gain from external as well as internal exploration that allows me to engage with others in a beneficial way. Part of the Bodhisattva path seems to be to leave my plate behind and jump to where I can make the most difference. If I didn't have the faith and courage to jump off the plate, I wouldn't be here, and I am certain it is good that I am.

People have asked for the mundane details of life here so here you go. This morning I woke, made a cup of tea on my little gas stove that has to be lit with a match, sat in the lounge room and wrote in my journal a bit. Then I meditated for a while, then made breakfast of muesli and fresh fruit while flipping through the phone book to find a yoga studio to try. Naomi came in and made some breakfast for her and Stephan, pouring boiling water over muesli and cashews and adding ginger, shredded apples, banana, and yogurt. Stephan is her boyfriend of only a few weeks, who spent most of the weekend over, kindly helping us both with household chores. Naomi hung some blinds, making her room look more like a hut on a Thai beach, and I built a table for my room. Stephan is a documentary film maker whose film on Palestinian refugees in Lebanon will be aired on tv next week, but despite his adventurous travels around the globe, he is so shy his posture seems a bit hunched, protected. Even his deep blue eyes seem hidden. Very sweet though. I finished my breakfast and and went out for a run along the creek behind the house, listening to birds and crickets and the flow of the stream, amazed that this is my backyard! It's a gray misty day today, reminds me of home, a perfect day for a run. I'm out of shape though. Is it really possible that I did a triathalon a few months ago? I ran a short distance then walked. I stood under a grand weeping willow that reminded me of when I was light enough to swing from a similar tree's branches, out front of my grandparents house. I glanced across the creek to the lookout point on the adjacent cliff, and my mind wandered, wondering why there was a little memorial/grave just across the path. A young man must have died here 9 years ago. Flowers, a small pic and a gravestone in the shape of a shamrock reading RIP, Nicholas McNulty, 11/4/69 - 30/7/97.It made me appreciate the fortune that I am experiencing to be here, alive and well. When i returned home, I showered and dressed and by that point the rain was coming down heavily. Naomi kindly offered to give me a lift to Fitzroy on her way out, so skipped the tram and rode down here to do a bit of shopping, exploring and internet cafeing. I'm in search of some cheap canvas, and drawing paper, tp and some various household items. I bought an incense burner from a cute guy at a shop called Happy Herbs, and am here at the cafe for a bit, but when I finish up I'll head to the $2 stores across the street. Moments ago in the green lushness and so quickly here in the vibrant graffitti stained streets of the urban center. I'll write more on graffiti, art and social commentary later, but this is long and my bill must be getting large so I'll end here. just say that today for the first time I actually heard myself say "How ya going?" I'll be an Aussie yet.