October 9 2026

unsplash-image-KV7V-A9ivg8.jpg

My father was born on 9 October, long ago. A prisoner of war, he died of leukaemia in 1978.

I have warm, very warm memories of him: bringing home licorice allsorts, walking to Mass together, being chastised for my table manners, watching Bonanza together. He was a philosopher in so many ways. Perhaps that was the influence that made me so cruious about the way we create meaning with each other.

Today a group of us gathered online at 7am Australian Eastern Standard Time to meditate, followed by a 25 minute writing task.

Our inspiration came from Mary Oliver's iconic poem, The Journey (read it here: https://www.best-poems.net/mary_oliver/the_journey.html). It’s the first line that I especially love:

One day you finally knew/What you had to do, and began/ though the voice around you/kept shouting/their bad advice

I read the poem aloud several times throughout our hour session together, and used it as our writing prompt for today.

We also invited Medicine Buddha into our meditation for healing (https://www.lionsroar.com/how-to-invoke-the-medicine-buddha/), and finished with alternate nostril breathing (https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/alternate-nostril-breathing#definition).

Next gathering is Sunday morning online, where we meditate, write and then share the writing with each other if we are moved to. Let me know if you are interested in joining us. It is free, but the catch is, we ask for commitment, commitment to yourself and commitment to each other.

Warmest

Margi