it is written

I forget so easily

Drowning in a sea of me,

That beyond the reach of my belief

She has a plan for us

The voice that speaks incessantly

Of things that should and shouldn’t be

Speaks nothing of what I truly need

If only I would trust

That I am worthy,

That I am ready,

That I am enough

Then I would dance

Inspired by who I am

Not dwelling on what I haven’t done

But joyous at what I can

Then I would sing

As if I had a choice

What other reason could there be

That I should have a voice

Then I’d find you

And describe you to yourself

For you cannot, have not or will not see

The perfection that stands before me

And everything between us dissolves

The questions that have been us, resolved

The truth has arrived

And it’s on our side

The misconception of the game

That you and I and they are playin

Will keep this world from ever changin’

It’s time to wake up

There is no place to get

There is no one to become

There is nothing you need to do

My friend, you are the one

Enjoy it.

Do with it how you wish

Starting right now

Starting with this

b. who you want to b.

Lower case without the e

Together step beyond our past

Together, and all I ask

Is that you trust

For she has a plan us….

winds of change

"the world falls down but my heart beats faster now..."

she said...

"I can hear it on the wind,

now my own heart beats in rhythm.

The springtime sun is stirring far off in the east.

Change is upon us.

We're remembering our dreams.

And our choosing it will turn our fear to peace..."

was his reply.

who'd a thunk it

As luck would have it a funny thing happened last Monday night.

Despite the open road and a van full of good intentions, my noble steed and I coughed and spluttered to a paralyzing halt. Sharing a car whilst playing the orange light on fuel tank game is twice and dangerous and three times as obvious.

With nothing but car keys and a key card I set out on foot, in my mixed netball uniform, to find juice for my thirsty vehicle. 

I must've taken a wrong turn at Margaret Ave, because standing where the 24-hour BP ought to be, was a magnificent golden castle, like nothing I'd ever seen. I paused momentarily before strolling right through those oversized off-white gates, in search of a jerry can, petroleum and a cherry ripe. By now my taste buds had made a good case with my integrity.

Upon entering the front door, I was met by a lovely looking lass, dressed all in white, who smiled politely. She motioned with her eyes to a room at the end of a hallway, and then drew a pathway through the cloud with her fingertips. I had no reason to question such instruction, so I strolled on down the hall following the outline she drew for me moments earlier.

As I reached the end of the hall, I stepped into a tiny, messy room, full of tools and books and takeaway  coffee cups. Hidden deep in the depths of all this stuff was a man, sitting opposite me in one of Arne Jacobsen's egg chairs. 

It was the big man Himself, papa bear, the big kahuna.

He looked nothing like I imagined. Thankfully he wore a shirt with his name embroidered into the fabric, otherwise I would never have known I was about to speak to God.

"Hi!", I said.....

........silence........

"Um...mate I can see you're really busy, it's just that my van ran outta..."

"I know why you're here.", said God confidently. "You have experienced much. You have lived for many moons among my creation and now my son, you have returned."

"yeah....kinda. Actually God, I just ran outta petrol and was hoping to get a few litres or at least borrow a phone....", I replied.

"Tell me, if you please, in one simple word." asked God. "What was it like?"

"Frustrating", I remarked, "but I kinda knew it was going to run out eventually...."

"No no no!", boomed God. "Life?""What was it like to be alive?"

Can you believe it. Here I am, monday night after mixed netball, run outta petty, stubled across the almighty on the way to the BP, and He's asking me what it's like to be alive. In one lonely word He's asking me what it's like to be awash in the infinite, to be a brush in His ever changing masterpiece, in the constant state of flux, in the exponential evolution of the universe"

Realising this was a moment for careful deliberation I sat on the floor and thought about it. I dreamt about it, laughed about it, forgot about it, then discovered something about it, remembered something about it, decided something about it.

It never arrives I thought. 

It just happens.

There It goes again.

It is just It, without the is.

But is, just is

And I just am.

With one deep breath, I stood up and looked God squared in the eye. I could tell this was important to Him, so in my most official voice I said....

"and"

burn this love

hearts don't fit in square shaped boxes

and I won't be folded or broken

so I guess I'll ride on alone

the world is full of curves 

for the willing

expressions of love are never 'just words'

they were bathed in a truth

as pure as angel tears

so I've heard

and every time we wipe them from our cheeks 

we take an ocean of hope

from the hearts of non-believers

read this only once 

then burn this love

x 

the good stuff

This really is a crazy world we’re living in. 17.6 billion years ago it all began. 17.6 billion years ago I was born and so were you and through an infinite series of miracles I’m sitting here writing words while you’re sitting there reading them and both of us are getting something different or something the same. Either way we are sharing an experience together and it feels a certain way and before and beyond our experience, it is difficult to understand how we came to be, why we feel the way we do and what we’re supposed to do with it.

Considering I am nothing more than a unique combination of the same energy and matter as you, as the trees, as the ocean, as the stars, as the past and as the future, logically I’m left with the notion of completion. I began 17.6 billion years ago, I’m already everything I could hope to be. Whole, complete and perfect in everyway.

And if I am made of the same stardust as you, then surely you are whole, complete and perfect in everyway too. In fact we are the same thing. Like two drops of the same ocean. And standing there I am left with a wonderful freedom to b, lower case without the e. A deep connectedness to you, to myself, to the source of it all. A profound, moving experience we’ve eloquently called

Love

Someone truly special to me once said, “Michael, there’s never anywhere to get, but always somewhere to come from.” Now more than ever I feel resolved in who I am and what my life is for. If there’s nowhere to get, no-one to become, as far as I can tell the point of all this stuff, or at least a natural expression of the magic that began 17.6 billion years ago, is to discover, experience and share

Love

So that’s what I am committed to bringing to every conversation, every song, every chicken salad. Bring it for no other reason than I can. And the more if flows from my fingers and toes I am humbled by what is now possible for me, for you, for us and for them. As I pull on my lucky jeans and head for the sun, it’s clear in the faces of those who’ve been waiting, love is the new cool baby. Welcome aboard…

mike

hue, contrast and saturation

This modern world we live in. I turn on the light without any idea of how electricity works, I drive my van with little concern of how the engine works, now I click buttons in photoshop without a clue how the images distort. I can't help but feel like an infant at the helm of a rocket ship. All this power in my hands, without the knowledge, wisdom or experience to guide the direction I'm flying in. 

I guess with Art, ignorance is bliss...

the very best of friends, till the very end

Life is wonderfully unpredictable.

I thought i'd be fine.

In a moment 

all that was certain 

dissolves.

It takes a deep awareness to listen to the whisperings of one's soul. Wisdom to sift through the trash and courage to act upon a truth, no matter how brutal, that reveals itself in that space.  

These are the qualities of a superhero

Beyond the fear of what this could mean, beyond the newfound possibility, I stand in your shadow and listen, as you did, for a truth that speaks to me.

All I can hear is love. 

How fortunate I was to be in the presence of someone so wonderful, for so long. 

Thank you 

Truly your greatest gift was who you thought I was and called me to be. 

mike

home

And so the return.

Back in Melbs and straight to Swanston for some home town street party action! The night was "interesting"...;(
Flat would be an understatement.

Astounding what gets churned up from the bottom of the lake with a little movement on the surface.

Times they are a changin'. The future is empty again and now more than ever is an opportunity to practice what we preach. Stay tuned kids, the plot is about to thicken...

?

Despite the alluring call of yet to be discovered northern delights, we swung the van south and headed home.
On the northern NSW coast, Heaven is still crying. Our potential stages (street corners) a squelchy mess of puddles and mud. We vow to return but must postpone our arrival to the eastern most point of Australia.

As we cruise the Hume, the vague echo of a question mark still ringing in my ears, what am I to make of this journey?

Did we succeed? Did we win the war, the battle, the set, the match? Did we play full out? Was there ever an intended result? A destination? And how would we know when we got there?

Perhaps this lack of clarity is a result? Or be it, a reward?

Drifting aimlessly atop a sea of uncertainty I reach for reason. I scan the horizon for a pathway, a shortcut, a sure thing. The lashing wind, the burning sun, the waves that thrash upon my body leave their mark and scar with salt. Why am I doing this, is just as important as where am I going and when will I get there.

As with the timeless Zen bumper sticker quote that reads, "it's the journey, not the destination", my experience has led me to embellish, "it's the inquiry, not the explanation".

mike

turnaround jump shot

The tide has turned.

The drought has broken.

The city of Sydney is back in the good books.

How quickly things can change.

After a shakey start, our hands bound in red tape, and the perceived threat of consequences playing havoc with our judgement, we managed to find a middle ground, a common vibration. We carved our own environment from that which was presented to us.

Exhale.

After not performing anywhere on saturday ( heartbreaking at the time), bruised but not broken, the last two days have made up for it. Playing your tunes on Circular Quay is one hellava way to make a living. And when I say "make a living" I could just as easily have said "one hellava way to survive". We definitely earn every sale but the insights we are gaining into how we operate in the face of various circumstances, priceless.

One thing that comes to mind right now is that it's never ever over. Ever. Long after the fat lady has sung, there is always another opportunity to go deeper into the fire. And the result is always unimaginable until it became a reality.

We were warned twice by the rangers today for our volume. One more complaint means trouble. We waited, we talked, we thought, we forgot, we were inches from packing up, but didn't, then played our asses off. Who would've known 50 odd year 12 schoolgirls would show up and scream and dance for over an hour and we'd sell over 60 CD's on a Monday night.

In being unreasonable, magic is possible.

mike

the game of it all

Jez came up with the idea to mime with our instruments until someone put some money in our box, then we'd play for a few seconds, then fade until someone put money in again.
It was a long, quiet set...
trigger swore he saw a tumbleweed...;)

hmmm

Yesterday we played Pitt St Mall. The money we made we spent on parking. But it was a gorgeously sunny afternoon and as Friday faded gently into Fri-night things were looking up.
We moved to a prime spot on Darling Harbour with loads of people and sparkly lights on the water. It was just before 9pm as we launched into the first set. Within minutes people were gathering, kids were dancing and throwing money in our box.
Sigh, the exhale, this is what we came here for.

As we finished the first song the rangers (council police) came and shut us down. Apparently we had an orange permit and we needed a blue one. We could get a blue one from exactly the same place and fill out the exact same form as we did to get the orange one....on Monday morning. No amount of reasoning, pleading or begging would make a difference to our bureaucratic pawn in fluro.
They reccommended we go back to cricular quay, so we did and on arrival were told by more rangers that our permit only went to 9pm.
Game over.

Left me pondering as I was wandering along the harbour, between the neatly manicured gardens, strategically placed inside a world of concrete and steel.

Rules, regulations, permits, fines, don't touch, no standing, queue here. Some would say this society works because of a series of systems we have created. Every boat in the Harbour would had to have undergone a series of check lists before it's seaworthy, and rightly so.
But where is the limit?
I'm positive some of the people who stroll by and comment on how wonderful our music is and "why Sydney doesn't have more of this happening on the streets" and "where did all the culture go?" are the very same people who vote against it, directly or indirectly, consciously or unconsciously every other day of the week.

When did we give up trusting ourselves?

Is our lack of belief so strong that we couldn't possibly do the right thing, we should hand all our power over to a bi-law, which we just made up anyway and in terms of reality (space and time) is as real as the Easter bunny.

Perhaps what actually makes this society work is our faith.

I am by no means an expert on human behaviour nor a scholar of governance and law but I can speak about what I see when we play our music of the streets of anywhere. People buy their own CD's while we keep playing, they take the right change out of the box if need be, and they stuff notes in places so they wont blow away.

Given half a chance it seems our natural expression is honesty, generosity and integrity. Given half a chance we do the right thing. Maybe it's time we stopped denying who we really are and gave ourselves the freedom to be human.

mike

rain

Driving away from a glorious, sun-soaked Melbourne on a one-way collision course with Cyclone Hamish, was quite laughable. We particulary liked the headline "100 year storm".
Rain
But we found a window and managed to squeeze a couple of hours of playing on Darling Harbour, overlooking the Opera House.
Great spot....Tough crowd.
Any illusions of this being a walk in the park were washed away as another front blew in right on sunset.
Rain
But it got me thinking,
about stillness.
When I am still I can hear my desire. I can hear me. And when my desire is acted upon, inherently come expectations. And when my expectations are not met, like this rain, the simplicity of what I want, my pure intention, is flooded with reasons, comparisons, justifications, observations.
In a peacefully quiet apartment, well after midnight, it's suddenly so busy in my head. I can't hear my desire anymore. It's just noisy in there.
And how much am I missing when I'm drowning in this familiar noise.

Perhaps my focus should not be on my circumstances but on returning to this stillness. For there I will be waiting, with open arms, to remind me again,
who I am, what I want and how to get it.

mike

real time

Live recording is a wonderful thing.
And filming it at the same time is even better.
On Sunday we took a stack of camera's into studio Atlantis, miked up all the gear and played.

A zealous dance to capture a flawless performance. It became pretty obvious early on that flawless performance was in no way similar to faultless. Our experience got me thinking....

Seems art is nothing without risk.

It takes courage to step beyond the edge of reason. Beyond the safety, the security, the known.
And it takes faith to give up what is, for what could be. But its the energy that is summoned to support or create that courage and faith that is communicated so clearly between the notes, between the brush strokes.

That energy is what moves, inspires, captivates us. That energy is what we connect with and stays with us long after the moment. Not the perfection of the performance. But the powerful vibration that sings "they were willing". A vibration that rings in unison with a note deep within us, no matter how faint, and calls us like the horizon does on dusk. It makes sense to a part of us. To keep searching.

Whether we dined with the dangerous will be obvious. But what has opened up, like all great adventures, is another map to another place like none we've ever seen....

we leave tonight...

mike

day one

Today is my birthday and it got me thinking.

It’s pretty clear we’re rapidly approaching a fork in the road as a planet.
At some point each and every one of us will have to make a choice (or more accurately, a series of ongoing choices) that will impact which road, we as a global community, will take.

There is no morality outside of the human condition, and as far as the universe is concerned, the path we take will be the path we take. But I think it’s important we make these choice’s as the fullest expression of who we are.

The ocean is under no illusion of who she is, nor is a ‘63’ fender strat.
I am merely a declaration, a commitment and an action.
Said more succinctly, I am my relationship to my word.

Now is the time to stand firmly in who we say we are, share ourselves fully and be open to receive everything else that is doing the same.

In the words of Oren Lyons, faithkeeper of the Turtle Clan of the Onandaga Iroquois, when speaking of his tribal council tradition: "We just keep talking until there's nothing left but the obvious truth."

Now is the time to open a conversation, and so I begin......

mike