Photo: Westminster College: View from Mount Carmel As my mother lay in bed, the day before she died, unable to speak, and we were flying down on an A40 jet that Chris had practically commandeered, my father read this to her twice and he told me she smiled. "Where my parents live is the most gracious and beautiful dwelling place I know. Australia doesn't sit well with me, though I once dreamed of the dark green mountains of New Zealand on the edge of the sea. The last time I visited Matumi was mid winter, there was such a light diffused among the trees and plants. It was as if everything was shining in the embrace of some giant invisible luminous being. Matumi shone with revealed meaning. The leaves, the grass, the rocks and flowers. Distances were shortened. The mountain across the vally was as clearly defined as the giant aloes in the driveway. My mother, with the spare and masterly strokes of a zen master, has crafted Paradise out of a mountainside. Reluctantly, she rubs out...
Left wing commentary from the heart and the head