A watery start to the day. Days like this can be hard to get started on – easier to head back to bed, pull the blankets up over my head, and think zen-like thoughts. Or go back to sleep.

Or jump it up a little and launch head first into the day.

I can never tell whether the day is going to be auspicious or not or what – I’m not even sure I care about the future at these moments – it’s more about start me up, go to work, get on with the job at hand. The future happens as a result of micro-decisions and actions you make all day, every day. Do your job. Focus on the moment. Get on with it!

Manifesto
04. Every day is an opportunity to cultivate the promise of the future.
08. Every day choose to bring about change.
13. Every day be better than you were the day before.

I think that’s how we like it. We didn’t win, but we weren’t beaten either. Not a bad outcome in any activity. Good work to everyone involved – a huge effort and well worth celebrating.

Manifesto
05. Every day is now. The present moment.
11. Every day do something for someone else.
27. Every day pain is a sign of growing.

Sometimes it is better. That’s rewarding. The real reward is that we’ve got enough of the right things and the good things to make a meal at all. I feel so blessed when I sit down to a meal – elegant or simple – perhaps more often when the meal is simple – we have food on the table. Everything else doesn’t matter.

Manifesto
06. Every day you make choices.
09. Every day learn something new.
20. Every day say thank you.

They don’t seem to pay much attention to the writhing words of global warming, pollution, recession, depression, recovery, woe is me … cherries just seem to figure it’s getting to be more hours of daylight, let’s get on with it.

Maybe they measure time in different ways – their clocks and calendars are more attuned to how our would’ve been just a few hundred years ago. Unlike us, cherries don’t have a profit motive warped into their every act. They do the best they can with what they’ve got. If we were humans we’d think they had something we aspire to – cherries have got faith in themselves, and faith that Spring will come around again, no matter how hard the Winter.

Manifesto
19. Every day make time for yourself.
20. Every day say thank you.
30. Every day use all your senses. Touch. Smell. Taste. Hear. See.

Manifesto
14. Every day the ordinary can be the extraordinary.
32. Every day have a laugh.
41. Every day use your mind. It is the greatest technology ever created.

Except for Nunga. Now there’s a sport that totally engages me. You’ve probably never heard of it much less played it and even less seen it being played. Don’t feel bad, it’s not available on the sports channel. Hopefully never will be. Nunga is a game we made up a few years back. At a family reunion. We were bored to the point of paralysis and there was nothing to see or do, and nowhere to run to. Nunga to the rescue.

Nunga is a solo sport you play with other people. You need a team of two or more people. Probably five is optimal, more than that they should split off into a separate team so you’ve got somewhere to defect to. Defecting to other teams is an important, if not essential, component. You’ll need a branch/pole/broken broomstick/peg, and at least one ring of some kind. Initially we used an axle off a pushchair and a couple of the broken/rusted out wheels – just the decaying rubber and rusty rims left. Sink the branch/axle in the ground deep enough so about 30 cm/ 1 foot remains above ground.

The object of the game is to throw the ring over the branch. Just like throwing quoits. Horseshoes. Here is where the sport differs. It’s over to the thrower to decide where they’ll stand to throw. Most people start right up close, and then move further back as their confidence and competence grows. They make it just difficult enough. Nunga is a sport that most anyone of any age can compete in with an equal opportunity to win at – physicality is not a requirement – in fact being a stunning athlete in the traditional for is a disadvantage.

Merely getting the ring over the peg doesn’t really win the points. There are no points. The other people on the team are there to boost you onwards to ever bolder moves. How you score is by ever moving out of your comfort zone and still hooping the ring over the peg. The best players are those who can call like a rooster, scurry up clucking like a chicken, run past the peg, and throw the ring without looking, have in bounce off a car, knock (but not spill) Aunty Joy’s gin and tonic, spin on its axis and then descend gracefully around the peg; to the wild screams and applause of the other participants – each of whom are determined to outdo the theatrical splendor, grace, and riskiness standard so recently set. The frailer or younger participants have the advantage that any flamboyance exhibited will be more valued than mere physical expertise. Singing, dancing, chanting, flames, hop, skip, and jump. Spin, twist, and yahoo to your heart’s content. Giggle like a loony-thing. The most important thing is to engage and enjoy as raucously as possible.

Don’t watch the game. BE the game.

PS – When the winning match was scored, my colleagues politely applauded and quietly returned to their desks. Not a lot of Nunga there.

There’s a graffito on a wall near the university that says, “You are a small part of a beautiful picture”. I’ve failed to get a picture of the wall that adequately captures the message in context, but I think about the message a great lot. If I’m part of a beautiful picture, then possibly, just possibly, I’m beautiful too. Some days it’s hard to imagine that. Other days, easy. I stay the same, it’s the picture that changes.

Or maybe the picture stays the same.

It’s how I think about it that changes.

Manifesto
36. Every day be still. Connect to your inner being. Listen and be guided by it.
38. Every day be brave and give things a go. Use fear to trigger you into action.
48. Every day there are things you can’t change. You can change the way you think about them and deal with them.

How completely beautiful. This afternoon I took the pear and quince juice my sister Gillian brought us and made jelly. Jam is good, but jelly is better. I love the way the light becomes golden, richer, turning the glass jars into gem stones. The house becomes redolent with the fragrance of quince. I love the meditative experience.

When I first started making jelly I got some really helpful criticism – comments like: ‘You should’ve made it on a sunny day’, ‘The tiny bubbles in this jelly means it wouldn’t win prizes’, and ‘This jelly is too hard/soft/whatever’…

You know, there are some times when it’s better to not listen to helpful criticism. The best thing to do is to make some jelly – some grape, or apple, or peach, or quince – and then make some nice toast. Spread it with butter. Yes, that’s right, butter. No synthetics. Butter. Let the butter melt a little. Spoon over some jelly. Go on, spoon a little more. You’ll love it. Take a bite – let the rich fruit flavours make love with your taste buds. Shut your eyes. Breathe in the sublime summer. Sigh. Love. Love. Love.

So what criticism?

Manifesto
17. Every day look through a new lens.
22. Every day refine, clarify and simplify.
30. Every day use all your senses. Touch. Smell. Taste. Hear. See.

I think maybe it’s all about branding – they believe our flag isn’t completely and utterly unique. It’s true. There are other flags that imitate ours. Australia, for example. It’s not surprising – our nations were founded at about the same time – by the same colonising people – and at one point, the state of New South Wales was the administrative centre for New Zealand. We still export huge numbers of our brightest and best people to Australia. As nations we’re like twins. So it makes sense to have similar flags – you know how twins are always dressed alike.

Manifesto
03. Every day is an opportunity to reflect on the past.
08. Every day choose to bring about change.
17. Every day look through a new lens.

What a simple joy today to spot a small troupe of goldfinches, in full winter regalia, foraging for food on the street among the cigarette butts and other city detritus. I don’t know what they’d be able to find – not much in the way of seeds there.

I came home tonight and made a cake for the birds – rendered beef fat melted, with sunflower seeds and oatmeal mixed together, now chilling down. When it’s all set hard I’ll turn it out of the bowl and into a mesh bag recycled from some mandarins. I can then hang this up safely in a tree out of the reach of cats and other bird hunting vermin, and hopefully the local bird life will manage through a little easier. Bonus for me if I get to see birds feeding…

Manifesto
25. Every day your light shines for others to see.
33. Every day try something new.
37. Every day fight for what’s worth fighting for. Pick your battles.