I love making my own ginger beer.
It reminds me of holidays spent at my aunt's farm.
She brewed ginger beer with a starter.
During the night we would hear the occasional top pop off -
it always seemed magical!

I found a much simpler and quicker recipe.
(And, if I overfill the bottles, there is still the occasional pop!)

2 1/2 litres warm water
1 1/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup honey
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon active yeast
1/2 citric acid
1/2 cream of tartar
1/2 teaspoon lemon essence

Place all the ingredients in a large non-reactive container.
Mix well and leave to stand for 2 hours, stirring occasionally.
Pour into clean glass bottles with tight fitting lids.
Allow some space at the top of the bottles before sealing.
Leave for 3 days or more in a cool, dark cupboard.
Shake bottle gently before serving.

I am fascinated by chess sets,
even though I am a very poor chess player.
I don't know what it is that intrigues me ...
the sense of order?
the almost infinite variety?
the challenge?
the story?
the relationship between players?
I dream of creating a textile chess set ...
here are a few ideas.

I love scarecrows.
Is it the human form that draws me?
Or the creativity, inventiveness and ingenuity?
I love the sense of fun coupled with a sense of purpose.
Scarecrows can be naïve or complex;
evil or innocuous;
permanent or transient.
Scarecrows are a part of my carnivale series.

I love it when people talk to me of their favourite music.
It opens up a whole new world ... unfamiliar genres ... interesting interpretations.
My world is broadened, richer.

Mental illness has many forms and guises;
can afflict anyone;
can be acute or chronic;
may be permanent or cyclic;
may respond to therapy or exercise or companionship or medication (or all of the above).
It is real.
It exists.
It can be frightening and lonely.

May all those living with mental illness today
be filled with every grace and blessing.

Christmas is a hollow and commercial holiday if we do not put it in context.
Christmas reminds me that I am called to recognise the face of Christ in each person I meet.

The Maori Jesus
by James K Baxter

 I saw the Maori Jesus
Walking on Wellington Harbour.
He wore blue dungarees.
His beard and hair were long.
His breath smelt of mussels and paroa.
When he smiled it looked like the dawn.
When he broke wind little fishes trembled.
When he frowned the ground shook.
When he laughed everybody got drunk.

The Maori Jesus came on shore
And picked out his twelve disciples.
One cleaned toilets in the Railway Station;
His  hands were scrubbed red to get the shit out of the pores.
One was a call-girl who turned it up for nothing.
One was a housewife who’d forgotten the Pill
And stuck her TV set in the rubbish can.
One was a little office clerk
Who’d tried to set fire to the government buildings.
Yes and there were several others;
One was a sad old queen;
One was an alcoholic priest
Going slowly mad in a respectable parish.
The Maori Jesus said ‘Man
From now on the sun  will shine.’
He did no miracles;
He played the guitar sitting on the ground.

The first day he was arrested
For having no  lawful means of support.
The second day he was beaten up by the cops
For telling a dee his house was not in order.
The third day he was charged with being a Maori
And given a month in Mt Crawford.
The fourth day he was sent to Porirua
For telling a screw the sun would stop rising.
The fifth day lasted seven years
While he worked in the asylum laundry
Never out of the steam.
The sixth day he told the head doctor,
“I am the light in the void;
I am who I am.’
The seventh day he was lobotomised;
The brain of God was cut in half.

On the eighth day the sun did not rise.
It didn’t rise the day after
God was neither alive nor dead.
The darkness of the void,
Mountainous, mile-deep, civilised darkness
Sat on the earth from then until now.
 

It is Christmas Day ...
the Feast of the Nativity,
the Feast of the Incarnation.
A time to reflect on what it is to be fully human.
A time to show gratitude for the gift of life.
A time to participate in community.
A time to remember.
A time to reveal LOVE.
May our day be filled with every grace and blessing.

The world is full of possibility.
This possibility allows for
varied interpretation;
dreamers;
visionaries;
 poets;
artists.
This possibility means we can have
 peace, not war;
equal distribution of resources;
elimination of poverty;
attentiveness to the human dignity of each individual.

My primary motivation for making dolls is that I find the process both healing and transforming.
However, I realise now that others also enjoy my dolls ...
as gifts,
as companions,
as works of art,
and desire to take them home.

How do I maintain the integrity of my dolls -
dolls that have a story;
dolls that reflect my life journey?

How also do I find a tribe that loves my art
and makes dollmaking a viable proposition?

I firmly believe art has the power to heal and transform.
I also believe art is a powerful way to inform and communicate.
A work of art carries its own story
but also becomes a part of the life story of the viewer and of the larger community.
Inherent within the act of creating is a means
to process;
to meditate;
to reflect;
to prioritise;
to collect;
to