Thursday 3 November 2011

RECAPITULATION: Mum the Shopper


         To recapitulate is to look back while still moving forward,  life's rear vision mirror. I am using it all the time, seemingly on a highway right now with information coming in at all angles.  The first and most obvious road sign is woman/ mother as shopper or as my daughter when three told me "it's not shopping, Mummy, it's swapping."
         Back to empty cupboards and an empty fridge with a new level of dietary understanding from our ten week vegetarian diet with minimal milk product means there was room for some new decisions.   Armed with my sour dough culture from the walk I made some bread. Then we harvested potatoes and boiled up home grown eggs we were given. Mayonnaise was easy to make and then, as if by magic, we had an organic potato salad. Abundance came also from the sea when we were given a fish on our first day back.  Shopping/swapping the pantry was filling up on its own. I have always been silently dedicated to reducing our family's eco-footprint and have been blessed with a wood fired stove so I fired that up with Karri sticks (by the way, wood sticks release the same amount of carbon being burnt as they do when left to break down) and cooked our sour dough bread and made a stock from Evie's garden.
             When lighting the stove two articles jumped out for reading; one was about the global economy and how women make up 70% of the spending market, with a global purse of 17.8 trillion dollars while we are represented at government level by only 10% female economists. You can further reduce that percentage when talking about women in politics who are actually producing home made goods for their house holds. No doubt most working women of that level would not have the time.
           So whilst we have this massive global purse we are barely represented at the global financial decision making processes and therefore we are shopping in the dark as a group; susceptible to advertisers who target us with essentially aesthetic product. This brings me to the second article titled 'The  Sisterhood of Shopping''which shows our love affair with shopping centres started with the beginning of the industrial revolution and the first shopping centres which were places of liberation for the women of the time.
Well times have changed and while our men are still largely the 'bread earners' they statistically are not the main spenders.  While we are also contributing to the 'bread earning' we continue to be the main spenders. Our collective decisions are leaving us all in chains and our Mother Earth stripped bare.
          We need to be accessing our power as the main spenders and making decisions based on real needs. Real needs are directly linked with sustainability both environmentally and individually with reference to our time managed lifestyles. As a side line but very much worth considering, we live in nuclear families that cannot provide all the essential needs that for eons were met in communities and the fallout is represented by our collective need for more stuff. Ironically,  this very need is what is fuelling the drive for nuclear power stations. The waste created by them has a half life of 1.3 billion years so obviously this path is unsustainable and immoral.
          So with these cards on the table it is a natural and commonsense conclusion to remind ourselves of the very powerful position we have at the sink and the kitchen counter where we decide for real what we can make verses what needs to be bought.
            The movement for saving our world, our families, our health and our women's business is through these small decisions we make at home. So fill yourselves up with this amazing power of womanhood; gather together as sisters and bake a cake for humanity, cook a stock for sustainability, walk to school for the power of making a difference to our planet. These small acts will connect us and nourish us . Remember we are the decision makers and our children are watching. Life is abundant and beautiful and so are we.
1. Buy local produce and eat seasonal produce.
2. Recycle and swap and buy from second hand stores.
3. Refuse to buy products that are over packaged or poisonous to our waterways.
3. Teach our children how to shop sustainably
4.  Worm farms and compost for kitchen waste.
5.  Find ways of opening up your home to your wider community; billet families or individuals in need (Japanese families need billeting to get small children away from the radioactive fall out. If interested contact me at kryystalmcmullan@yahoo.com.  I am finding out more about this at present for our family.)  Or go camping with other families, invite your mother in law to live with you.  Knock down fences....have regular meals with people in your street....there are many ways of deepening our community and lessening the sometimes stale air of our nuclear families.
6. Walk or ride instead of driving.
7. Challenge the princess in yourself and your daughters; we are physically capable of more and it benefits us to stretch ourselves in that direction.
8. Get wet and immerse in the elements. Nature will reward you...
9. Support small business, buy from market stalls etc. Keep out of shopping centres.
10. Stop throwing out things you haven' t used in a year. The Zen housewife is refuelling the consumer cycle because removing clutter is removing potential. Our children need chaos and order. Too much order means the energy of chaos goes underground leaving us attached to control and needing new things. Don't get me wrong; I do subscribe to the idea of keeping belongings moving and not hanging on to things that are no longer useful but I think it all needs tempering. We have Zen homes and full tips and over flowing second hand stores. This is a much broader conversation but essentially I am suggesting that we take a back seat while managing order in our homes.  Bless our collective abundance and pause to consider our children and our men may not always see it how we do.
Connected by MOTOBLUR™

Tuesday 1 November 2011

HIT THE GROUND RUNNING


           I have parachuted some twenty jumps as a eighteen year old and remember well that with a stiff wind blowing you need to start running when you hit the ground or you get dragged along like a fishing net.  So when we eventually arrived home at six pm on Sunday with school starting the next day I went to bed with my boots on.
I have found the whole transition, harder to cope with than I expected. On many levels I have felt fine but I have had 48hours of acute asthma. So the stress has measured on my nervous system without really impacting my patience or tolerance.
           Normal things like driving, shopping, operating a plastic card, are all out of frequency with what I have been accustomed to and definitely add an element of stress. Stopping and starting things too, has felt stressful. Our days were more fluid and naturally rhythmic, perhaps that loss in our modern culture is why we crave our 'routines'.Anyway there is more to say but for now real life has more pressing needs than cyber space so I will round this off here.
This blog will continue as part two; the unfolding after the pilgrimage. Twelve hundred kilometres takes some time to digest.
Looking forward to catching up again with people. Love Kristi

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Saturday 22 October 2011

THE DOWNWARD RUN

We are camped at Mundaring which in Noongar means the "top of
the hill." It is all downhill from here. We pause here for a day off tomorrow and we will celebrate Evita's birthday. It seems fitting that our group begin its celebrations with our maiden turning eleven ;the number is symbolic of a gateway. We are indeed passing through a gateway, back to our lives, to the places we all came from. There
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Monday 17 October 2011

PERTH IS ON THE HORIZON

We walked into Northam today after leaving Greenbushes at seven am. We arrived at our first caravan park since the trip started. We have 100 kms to go.  The kids are so happy and well. I feel a special bliss decending on me. Mostly I think it  is exhaustion! Goodnight.


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ONE HUNDRED KILOMETRES TO GO

We walked into Northam today and it

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Saturday 15 October 2011

We sleep everywhere.

At first it was bush camps; sometimes on red dirt soft and smooth, others on hard and rocky ground. Occasionally the earth was littered by crystals or prickles with five points of razor sharp prongs. Then we slept by a uranium deposit(sickness country). We camped at a reservoir and in gardens of wild flowers. Droning mine sites gave way to bird nirvanas and we woke to their happy songs. As we first came out of the desert, we camped in the backyard of an Aboriginal elder over the road from the refugees million dollar prison. There were still many bush camps to go. The bush changed to woodlands and on one occasion it was a B.M.X. track. At Kalgoorlie we slept next to a train station and then with the  cyclone we slept in the cultural centre centre surrounded Aboriginal paintings; ironically, I slept on a exercise walking machine. We camped at a children's playground, a trotting track, in a stadium and last night we slept at a church with a loud party next door. We are getting accustomed to the city.

Thursday 13 October 2011

THOSE KIDS ARE UNREAL


Our children teach us so much. I spent two days walking in silence. By the second day a lot of stuff came up and so I stayed at camp while the elder three  walked. They have all done so well. But the phone does not write more than two words before it flips back to  the address. So read between the lines. I love these kids and their efforts have been huge.
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Walk away from uranium mining updates

This phone no longer types easily so look up the updates for up. to date information.  We walked to Tammin today. Twenty-four kms
in a strong headwind with icy rain, felt like forty kms. Just goes to prove that measurement is all relative.
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Monday 10 October 2011

DO SOME ART

I feel better now that I have done something creative. The dark dirt comes from a termite mound.

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WHAT TO DO

We have just discovered that the government gave the go ahead for the uranium mine in South Australia. They will have to dig a hole five by four kilometers long and one kilometre deep before they even get to the uranium. That will take five years, working 24 hours a day. Our culture has gone mad. God help us. I feel so sad.
I

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Friday 7 October 2011

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SKY

These steps we take are for the land,the Aboriginal people
and the ancestors of the land. They are also for us and our children. My understanding of the nuclear industry is that it is for none of those things. It steals from eternity and must be stopped from entering W.A. Do what you  can. The nightmare can be transformed by our collective prayers. Goodnight.
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OUR CHILDREN ARE INSPIRING



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WALKING IN SILENCE

Today I walked in silence.
This phone is only working a few words and then it stops. May have to be only photos from now on. One thousand kilometres, now we are in Merriden. Love Kristi
Check Footprints for peace and Perthindymedia and
Thegreatwalkwilunatoperth


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Monday 3 October 2011

Fw: Walk away from Uranium Mining: UPDATES check out the tube clip love us all.



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-----Original message-----
From: Marcus Atkinson <marcus@footprintsforpeace.org>
Sent:
Mon, 03 Oct 2011, 02:39:58 GMT+00:00
Subject:
Walk away from Uranium Mining: UPDATES

 
View the latest photo's from the walk at
 
 
Check out this you tube clip from the "Walk away from Uranium Mining"
 
Bondi Rock to Southern Cross.
September 26th - October 2nd
 
Over the last week the walk has travelled from Bondi Rock to Southern Cross. We have left the remote desert area and have entered the wheat Belt.

Reflecting on the last 6 weeks it has been an amazing walk in which we have learnt much from the Traditional Custodians and each other. We have strengthened our commitment to keeping this land nuclear free and in the process have formed a strong community.

It is painful to see how much the land has changed as we enter the wheat Belt and there is the constant reminder of so-called civilization with all its rubbish along the road.

The nuclear industry represents the ultimate rubbish that will contaminate and threaten society for hundreds of generations to come. This whole process of destruction and contamination begins with uranium mining.

We cannot allow the Western Australia government to permit the contamination of this beautiful land so as this uranium mining companies can profit from sending such a toxic and radioactive substance to Countries through out the world. Fukushima, Chernobyl and the other accidents that have happened need to stop.

It is for the future generations and all life that we must act to stop this in Western Australia before it begins.

As many of us from around Australia and the world walk towards Perth over the next 4 weeks we hope that you will be able to join us in this journey to keep W.A nuclear free.

If you can't join us then please take a minute to sign the submission against Toro Energy's proposed uranium mine at Wiluna.

We will be having a celebration at city farm on the 27th of October with speakers, dancers, music and photos from the walk. Join us at City farm at 5.30pm.

Stay the night and walk with us to Forrest Place for the CHOGM rally
Or come to City farm at 8.30am on October 28th with you banners for our last 3 km walk in to Perth.
 


Peace & Solidarity

Marcus Atkinson
Nuclear Free Future Campaign Coordinator
Footprints for Peace, Australia

www.nuclearfreefuture.com

PH: Australia: +61 0400505765

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Sunday 2 October 2011

Southern Cross


This technology is doing my head in. Today and yesterday I sent more than  a few blogs because they all got stuck in the ether. This might not be sustainable.  Love and patience, Kristi
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Still testing. What is up with this blog=?UTF-8?B?Pw==?=



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Tuesday 27 September 2011

RED TENT BLUE BUCKET


I have sent this blog in various forms and they have all failed. Having no reception for days has been great. Our days are so full that writing this blog is a pure indulgence on some levels. I feel dedicated to observing the feminine side of this journey and the blogs that I lost were about the uranium stuff. Maybe that just isn't meant to be my focus.
Red tent; in my red dust green tent I had a day off from the walk and just relaxed.  I surrendered to my period and mused about how essential it is for women to have several days of each month for our mental and physical health. We so often work around the clock or past our daily capacity; as is the nature of mothering.  So stopping for a day or so each month with no household jobs, meals or child care would be so nurturing for many of us.
Blue bucket; see photo. On our last day off we stayed at an oasis and it was sensational. While the children played in the water we women lit a fire and heated water for washing clothes. It truly was a wonderful thing an each woman commented on how right it felt to be together like that doing our washing.  The washing area has always been a central point for women and children; an inportant hub of any community.  Must go, no more power and this has to be sent now or the phone puts it in the outbox where it is unretreavable. Goodnight.
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Thursday 22 September 2011

PACKING UP OUR STUFF

Day after day it is packing up camp, tents, sleeping bags, clothes, books for a bit of schooling, plates and cutlery and life's general stuff.  Having two disasters in a row that blew it all apart or saturated it all; first a mini cyclone, then a flood at three am.; I was feeling the weight of our belongings like a yoke around my neck. So today I had to stay at camp simply because all our stuff got wet in the early hours. Now a big storm is mounting at sunset and I now find ourselves  getting prepared for another blast.
NEXT MORNING
We all squeezed into our little two man tent and slept wonderful deep sleeps.
Yesterday I was on camp set up. The ground was rock hard and only two of us were up for work. I worked like a convict, digging the fire pit and toilet pit in such compacted ground. We stayed at a large cleared ground most likely a truckies spot. Anyway Evita has hurt her foot and I had promised to give her time yesterday but the set up was essential. I massaged her foot and gave her a precious bath but there is a yearning and I have just decided to completely have the day off. The boys can walk,  Chris can come back with the support van when he is ready. Shanti can stay with Eve and I. I will swap the shovel for some lotions and potions!
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Tuesday 20 September 2011

Half way to eternity


A red monstrous cloud appeared in the west. It was a terrifying sight, promising to bring chaos and change. We were at Centenial park, just beginning our public barbecue when we saw it. I hastily gathered my children and thanked God we had the preacher with us because he had his van; this was not going to be walking weather.
It hit within minutes. Red dust so thick that we could hardly see or breath. Winds of 100kilometres an hour raced around, taking whatever was in their path. As our party of thirty or so peOople were driven, crammed together, back to our camp we all watched in a shared fascination at the power of the wind as we passed roofs blowing off buildings and whole streets of trees down.
I was expecting that all my belongings in our flimsy tents, would be no more. I did not care for I was filled with love and gratitude for my children and the protection we had been given.
When we got back it was heroes we met at the camp who had somehow moved forty people's tents, swags and washing inside the cultural centre where we were staying. This centre in Kalgoorlie, our half way mark, is an old converted house. This amount of tents, mostly still opened was quite a sight. All our belongings had been picked up, stirred and thrown together. We were all contained in this house, forty people, tents and stuff and a cylconic storm outside whose rain arrived after we got safely inside. Finding places to sleep was not easy but I secured a little corner for us. I slept in the only place left which as I finally went to bed after all the sorting, discovered that it was a walking machine I was sleeping on. The irony of that was too much and I crashed onto sleep laughing.
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Wednesday 14 September 2011

THE MAGIC OF WALKING

The magic of walking has awakened some deep part of my humanity. I feel connected to people throughout history who have put one foot in front of the other and travelled miles and miles. Nomads and gypsies, beduins and shepherds, the dispossessed and the refugees are among the multitude of reasons for walking along way.  Nicole who is here with her young family, walks with her nine month old tied to her, and today commented how wonderful the act of just walking is and how much her baby loves the rhythm of it. "Normal life has so much stopping and starting, feels so scattered compared to this lovely rhythm. " 
  • We wake early in the cold hour when the first birds have heralded the morning and we pack up our camps then make our way to the fire place for porridge and tea.  After a brief circle, we hit the road and walk seven kilometres before stopping for a short break. Then another seven kilometres,  another morning tea and then five kilometres to lunch.  Then we sprawl under bushes in whatever shade we can find and eat some lunch. Often we have ten more kilometres to walk to camp, which we break up with a rest in the middle. That is a basic rhythm that carries us between twenty five and thirty kilometres.
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Saturday 10 September 2011



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EAGLE ON BORDER PATROL

Suddenly we were at the end of the Eagle dreaming country,we had walked to the limit of the elder' s country. There, between the countries, Lachlan had spotted an eagle, resting on the ground just a few short feet from us!
We felt it was a sign, a strong one, to stop and give thanks, take stock of where we had been and where we were going.  But the group had gone on ahead and we were being told that we all had to walk quickly across the causeway as someone ahead with an orange flag was going to stop traffic for us. Gauging the situation with my truck driver's eye I quickly yelled out "there is no way we are going to do that" and single file with no children would be the only safe way. We went under the causeway, through exquisite flowers and expansive views. I knew there and then that the land had gifted me fwith a sign, a warning and now blessings of the flowers. 
This was the first day without our guide and there seemed to be a straining for leadership with ego entangled and a slip stream of panic from suddenly having such massive trucks hurtling past us.
'God grant me the courage to change the things I can change,
the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
and the wisdom to know the difference.'
It has taken me two blogs to partly capture this lesson which only took a moment to happen but the lesson under pins our modern ego and the drive that takes us as individuals away from our collective intelligence.
It also holds hands with our limited understanding of time, place and space which are governed within the confines of measurement. "How far are we walking today?" 25kms or 30kms, with a headwind for the former and a tail wind for the latter, which is further?  "How long will it take to get there?" A wonderful communion with nature while we walk will make short time out of any stretch. Signs in nature are gifts and deviations of the mind at wonder are communion with spirit. Getting to the desired outcome does not necessarily achieve the aim if the intent is peace then the unfolding moments already contain that.
As mother of four children out here, I must check every thought and nip my ego in the bud so that spirit can safeguard us with strength that far outweighs our precarious position.

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Tuesday 6 September 2011

BLOGGING NOW I KNOW HOW TO DO IT

Apologies for the haphazard blogs. I have suddenly woeked out how to put photos in and how to title each entry....

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THE HONEYMOON IS OVER cont...

        The honeymoon was our introduction to this land and the way of life we are living out here.  When we started we were supported by large numbers and other than initial blisters we were high in spirits.  We have been walking on dirt roads along a song line that has been supported by a weight of thousands of generations who walked before us.  This energetically has fired our souls with inspiration and connection.
       We mostly spent days without seeing another vehicle; although the last few days we saw an increasing amount of trucks.  The country was abundant with such an array of desert flowers. Budgies and wedge tail eagles daily passed us by.  Each step of the way heralded something wonderful to see, smell or ponder.  We walked the Eagle Dreaming and our guides and elders that came filled our hearts to brimming with stories we could still see in the land scape.
       Our numbers are greatly reduced. Today we lose a family and I am crying already for that loss. The microcosm of life out here is a macrocosm, each separation feels so powerful because deep down we all know we are in the dreaming.  We are walking for a new dream to come out of our culture's nightmare.
       Our honeymoon is over. Now the hard yards. Real roads, trucks and traffic and single file.  We also have to navigate one another's baggage that is now getting aired. But we have the united intent to look further to our collective reason for being here and like any marriage, we are ready to get on with the living and the walking.  Honeymoons are only one part of an arrangement and our one has carved itself in our beings.

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THE HONEYMOON IS OVER. Stage one has finished. Stage two commences tomorrow when we walk out of Leonora. We have just walked through one country and are about to enter another country. From Wiluna we had a guide, an Elder from the region, he showed us bush tucker, shared with us stories and land features; connected us with the dreamtime. We walked a song line together, with our children as the people around here have done since time began. We just have more stuff to pack up and carry! I am falling asleep so this must wait. Birds are singing nearby, though it is the middle of the night. Blessings.

Monday 5 September 2011



FATHER'S DAY. We have walked hard miles this Sunday, thirty-five kilometres; walking started at six in the morning. It has been hot and the flies intense. We finally reached our camp to find our long march today has culminated at a camp full of rocks. Metaphores abound as this pilgrimrage steps up a grade to the place where people's stuff is coming out. My spirit tells me to regroup, find quiet places for myself. This evening I have just held my children close. And at that point I fell asleep. When I woke it was a full on pack up in the dark, we had to leave early, 7am and we were off. More than anything, I wanted to let the kids have a long lunch with thirty kms in front of us on a hot day with lots of flies, my motivation was sound.

Sunday 4 September 2011




FW:



WALKING TO THE BEAT OF MY HEART. We slept last night near a mine site. It's drone at first sounded like a very large truck approaching. The same sound has continued all night, without changing pitch or volume. It fills this quiet land with the persistant and relentless sound of a loud drone. There is no rhythm, no variation in pitch. It is monstrous; disturbing the surrounding land for miles. The earth itself now eminates this same persistant drone as our modern lifestyle merges together to form this cacophony of an unbroken roar that extends into space. We are desensitized through the process of vibrationally being bombarded by this relentless sound and vibration that energizes the modern world. One has to go a long way away from it to actually hear it. Or maybe not...maybe there is no need for the proof, there is enough indigestion in the pudding. As adults, our right brain does not like allowing in information that we can' t do anything with. Our thinking brain is so limited that it blocks the potential that we are. Our ability to love and feel can supersede this flaw. We can remember that Eve was framed and humanity was tricked out of our garden. We just need to acknowledge, without the attachment to what that acknowledging might mean, that this noise, this pollution and barage on country and stars, on indigenous peoples, is immoral and unsustainable. When we collectively accept this, God, Power, choose your own name; can transform the sickness into unimaginable possibilities. So under this dark and star spangled morning with a heavy plume of smoke just released by the mine curling above our camp, I sign off with peace in my heart and a cacophony in my head!



THE WEATHER IS OUR GUIDE. We are all sleeping together in one of our tents because it is the only one I could find a cover for when I packed. It is a tiny three person tent so us five are snug and tight together in here like fingers in a glove. Outside the wind presses hard against the western side of the tent in an impressive force. Today we walked our twenty six kilometers at a great rate with the building winds at our backs. By this afternoon our two boys turned Mick and Nicole's baby trailer and bike into a land yacht using the large peace flag. It was a spectacular sight and they raced past too fast for me to get a photo. Around this time the clouds on the western horizon mounted up, turning the sky many shades of gray. As I walked along in my donkey harness with the trailing last of the walkers, the temperature suddenly dropped and rain drops began to fall. At first they were barely felt, just visible on the road and with the wind like a "hurry up" warning we were ushered into our camp site. Our children worked like clockwork, together with each one doing this or that to get our tent up and sleeping bags in. Young Charlie also helped us and all around the camp everyone was hastily and efficiently helping one another. It has been evident that the weather has been responding to our group's needs. We have been blessed with all the perfect conditions as we have been moving through this country. It has been hot and the flies have been part of it all but, really, the weather has been there guiding us with it's messages. The indigenous peoples were not the only ones who took signs from the weather around them; sailors, farmers and anyone who works in the elements knows to varying levels of understanding that we affect the weather as we are affected by it. Our culture of logical thinking does not put much stock by such musings. We lose much sensitivity and therefore intelligence when we reduce life to a logical process. My writing is not intended as critisism of our culture. My intention is to expand our culture's vision through the splicing of ancient knowledge. I have intentionally, since the conception of my first child, set out to fish and farm this precious knowledge by living simply on the earth with my young family. This ten week walk through this desert country to Perth, walking away from uranium mining, is the pinnacle experience of all this seeking. This is where I learn to soften and surrender while our children experience the bounty of living in a community that daily works together.

Wednesday 31 August 2011



WALKING TO THE BEAT OF MY HEART. We slept last night near a mine site. It's drone at first sounded like a very large truck approaching. The same sound has continued all night, without changing pitch or volume. It fills this quiet land with the persistant and relentless sound of a loud drone. There is no rhythm, no variation in pitch. It is monstrous; disturbing the surrounding land for miles. The earth itself now eminates this same persistant drone as our modern lifestyle merges together to form this cacophony of an unbroken roar that extends into space. We are desensitized through the process of vibrationally being bombarded by this relentless sound and vibration that energizes the modern world. One has to go a long way away from it to actually hear it. Or maybe not...maybe there is no need for the proof, there is enough indigestion in the pudding. As adults, our right brain does not like allowing in information that we can' t do anything with. Our thinking brain is so limited that it blocks the potential that we are. Our ability to love and feel can supersede this flaw. We can remember that Eve was framed and humanity was tricked out of our garden. We just need to acknowledge, without the attachment to what that acknowledging might mean, that this noise, this pollution and barage on country and stars, on indigenous peoples, is immoral and unsustainable. When we collectively accept this, God, Power, choose your own name; can transform the sickness into unimaginable possibilities. So under this dark and star spangled morning with a heavy plume of smoke just released by the mine curling above our camp, I sign off with peace in my heart and a cacophony in my head!

Tuesday 30 August 2011



This is myself and the children just before we got on the bus.



THE CHILDREN. Like all children, mine are so different, such individuals. Evita, our eldest daughter has found the song in her feet and allows herself to not give up when offered but to push on through, finding beauty along the way to metamorphe the experience. When we apply love to our intent to facilitate change, we overcome all obstacles. Love is the spirit of life and connects us with our joy. Our eldest son has found many ways to avoid the plodding miles and has been supported by a very positive male role model in this idea. I have finally reached a place where I have no criticism of this view. When I tried to tackle it head on I have been met with resistance that has left my son with a certain weight about his spirit. I asked spirit for guidance and have had several unexpected conversations. On the sunset of that day, yesterday, a full blood Native American dressed down the group with a reflection about us needing more discipline, especially with regard to the children. Our positive male role model hastily asked me to consider that this man has masocistic tendencies, that I must not take this personally. (He as a friend has recognised that my weakness as a mother has been my "toughness", which he could see is not working for Lachlan.) Today I had to drive the food truck and with all the logistics, all the kids went in different directions. Evita walked the whole twenty- five kilometres without me there! Lachlan was my right hand man in the truck. As it occurred to me that a certain letting go of my ideals, mixed with the intent to foster a love for this walking, would work better for the spirits of all my children, we passed an eagle eye level and he looked into my soul in that brief moment. I shared this understanding directly with Lachlan's spirit, without words and last night he went to sleep with a real lightness and joy. His last words were about what this trip means to him as an initiation into his teenage years. Christopher has a more choleric disposition than our melocholic older boy and out here this serves him well. He rides or walks, whatever is required. He has a learned behaviour of sulking when things don' t go his way and but so far we have only seen this aspect once this trip. He loves the country. He has an immediate connection with the land. He is closely connected to his indigenous spirit. Shanti has really enjoyed the whole experience, although she has some social inhibitions around speaking to adults so living with a group of thirty adults and seventeen children has had challenges for her. The walking is difficult for her five year old body and sensibilities. She wants to walk slowly, look at flowers and make earth art. This is not possible when walking twenty odd kilometres in the heat of this country. So I tow a cart that she gets in and out of. I encourage her to walk and then come up with games and distractions to help her keep pace. On good days she walks miles. So we continue walking together...



THE LIGHT STANDS OUT IN THE DARKNESS. The stars shine, the fire light flickers, the solar lights glimmer; this mobile phone stuns and shocks my sensibilities as does the near by mine at Agnew with it's persistant hum. Night crickets sing songs to each other but the busy noise from five kilometres away echoes the light of this phone, casting out the magic; dampening the sensitivity that living out in the desert has carved in me. We become desensitized by our modern amenities and appliances. Nature allows us to recalibrate, to become sensitive again. Like a new born baby I hear and see the sounds and sights of these technologies. THEY ARE SO LOUD.

Saturday 27 August 2011



The miles are gathering momentum under our feet as the blisters make way to tougher skin and the aching muscles relax their tension. We are walking as a community, already close, forged by our united intent and our collective effort to exist out here together. Each day we have a circle and volunteers put their hand up for meal duties or striking camp or setting up camp. Then we hit the road and begin the steps that take us, one at a time, the next twenty-odd kilometres. Last night we slept at a sacred site on the range that connects Ularu with the foothills of Perth. The night sky sparkled crystal clear as myself and my four children lay down and looked up at them until our eyes closed. We sleep in sleeping bags in the inner linings of our two small tents and have the most spectacular views. We have over two hundred kilometres to go to the next town and we have so far walked over one hundred and fifty. A lady from Wiluna who had done some of the walk came back last night with boxes of oranges she had picked yesterday for us. She was received with great delight. Small and simple things are great delights out here. Also the desert has such pure energy, such powerful forces surround us that our every action, every thought gets a response. Our baggage is getting processed. These children of ours are florishing but they have woken and it is time to pack up ready for a new day.

Friday 26 August 2011



Under a waning moon. We are with the aunties of this country; the elders are here with their bon- fire of light. They talk and their words grab our souls and shake 'em up. Tears and laughter rush out together until there is no difference. They talk about this land as if it is their child, they talk about their children as if they are their grand parents; they talk of love without the in between words. They are real and we are honoured to be here with them on their land.

Tuesday 16 August 2011

Fw: Earth time



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-----Original message-----
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The eleventh hour just struck twelve (at four o' clock in the morning) I still haven't finished packing.  The logistics are big and at this stage I am surrendered to Earth time; that is that all things come together in their own time. Most languages have their own word for it; in-sha-allah in Arabic, Manana in Spanish. I don't think English has the corresponding sentiment.  It might be one of our cultural losses.  I know a certain grace takes me over when I surrender fully to it. I also know my husband and children have seen too often how affected I become when I'm not in that groove.  Maybe that's why he works away.....All just more words, I'm off to finish this packing phenomena so I can walk away from stressing and open myself up to Earth time, I surrender...

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Monday 15 August 2011

Staying grounded is the trick...especially since things today have come together like magic.  The weaving of all the last minute things has been nothing less than pure magic, laced with poetry.  I am left with the quickening feeling that comes with being in tune.  Now that I finally trust that this trip is coming together, it is.     Thankyou to our Steiner school community for the gifts and thoughtful additions for our trip. Blessings on Kardi for organising it;.  Love and gratitude, Kristi

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Earth to Kristi



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Sunday 14 August 2011

walk away from apologising for myself

"You don't have to apologize for being alive Kristi",my Dad would say;I always thought he exaggerated, but he was onto something big. We women collectively operate out of guilt. Our culture is steeped in mother guilt. The advertisers know this; it's their oil field.
I happen to have a bad case of it. That is my personal story and if I start off in the past I will not make inroads to the freedom I sense beyond all that head talk.
Yesterday I realised that what I had said about my marriage did not have a sense of gratitude about it. Guilt is completely eliminated when we feel grateful. When we are immersed in the joy of being a mother there can be no feeling bad. Guilt has its roots in time. When we are fully present and in the now, it cannot exist. Gratitude plants us in reality, in the now.
Last night I missed an exciting game of spotlight in the dark with my kids and three others; seven wonderful beings wanting me to share their excitemment. Instead, overwhelmed with the feeling that I had written something that was not fair to John, who works long and hard in not the best conditions, without his family, I wanted to set the record straight.
Now I have woken with a knowing, this mother guilt is a driving force of the modrrn world and I carry my share of it but from now on I am dropping that hot potato and picking up instead the lighter and more joyful load of gratitude.
P.S. it is interesting that the game last night ended with my daughter Evie seeing something spooky. What comes first the mother spooked and trying to change the past or the children suddenly feeling abandoned and scared?

Saturday 13 August 2011

Walk my talk

It is easy walking and talking on a computer, with a nice fire by my side. We are about to embark on the journey of a life time and with this trusty gadget, I hope to capture and record what happens, how it all unfolds. We are walking from Wiluna to Perth over ten weeks, a total
of 1250 kilometres. The walk is organised by Footprints for Peace; it's aim is to 'Walk away from uranium mining'.
My entire mothering has been about living with minimal resources so that I could learn and teach with my children how to live sustainably on the Earth. We lived for two years in a mud hut without electricity or running water. We then moved to a community and lived in similar conditions but now we had a long walk to get to our shack. At this point I should add that this way of living has sustained me deeply, given us many skills and understandings, and strengths. But Providence, God, did not fill my husband with the same understanding and for him these years of living outside of the system have been fruitless and frustrating. This is where my story of strength and connection with Spirit falls down. Our marriage has not fortified me or my husband.
Never the less he now works away and is making the money he always wanted to. The relevance is that much of my work has been unsupported and in the dark, so to speak. I have never let go of the light but the thing about mothers is we need support.
So now while I tackle the enormous packing challenge my body has been falling apart.
My tooth got pulled out the other day and now with an infection in my mouth all the messages come to one thing; looking after myself starting with what goes in it and what comes out of it, is critical to the rest of my reality. Good morning.

Thanks Zoe

My teacher comes complete with a cubby baby and a wonderful family which all adds depth to this process of communicating earthmother business.

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Starting blog


This is it! I have known all my life that I would write a book and here I am writing a blog instead; sounds like something you would do on the toilet!
The wonders of technology; first, adults talking to themselves on "hands free phones" and now adults saying baby words with such seriousness. " Yes, I have started a a blog..."
Blog, bog, book, whatever, I'm coming out of my closet blogging.
I have been an Earth Mother long before I ever heard it coined as a term.  It happened with my pregnancy and just before that as a new consciousness swept my life up into a transformation that left my immediate family wondering what had happened to me.  At our wedding my father's speech included that he hoped John and marriage would "shake some sense into me". He did not know that I had promised my life to the quest for women's business, children, families and peace.  Fire walking was my initiation that awakened the tribal spirit in me.  There would be surrender and trust as my only foundations as I set myself adrift from the world of money; intentionally living without it. I worked when big bills came in.  Guided to pursue Indigenous Mind; the chords the first peoples played on eternity's strings, their ways of living can never be forgotten. They lie within us all in our DNA.