I'm late, I'm late...

"Oh my fur and whiskers! I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!" "I'm late, I'm late! For a very important date! No time to say 'hello, goodbye,' I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!"

These may be the words of Alice's White Rabbit, but I'm going to borrow them, just for now...

Zanzibar (and I) have been hit hard by the covid-19 pandemic chaos - as have many...

2020 is a blur of worries and fears with a few glimmers of light...2021 has not improved the situation...Nothing has really changed...But still we keep walking...and walking...

Zanzibar too abandoned all thought of travelling afar...He hated to think he could be a silent transmitter of this deadly virus...

So he resorted to doing something he never expected to do...His new adventures took the form of connecting with Twitter and seeing the world through others...how they lived in their own little world...

He saw people facing fire and floods, seeking refuge from vicious regimes...But he also saw people offering the wonder of their pets, scenic countrysides and funny anecdotes...These people tried so hard to lift the spirit of others...He admired that...

He also knew this writer lost her little furball Shadow recently...He knew how hard that was for her...her last companion...But he knew love never fades...He knew he must step up...

And so it was, he watched over this writer...encouraging her to offer the light of distractions, interesting discoveries and, of course, there had to be some poetry in there... The creative impulse helps to nourish a healthy spirit...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY RAY

moving on...

A few rugged years have passed in Zanzibar's life...

It all began with fires...

Fires through his beloved mountain...

Fires stamping out all the green

all the sanctuary

of his little retreat...

He felt he did not need to seek a desert to wander

the desert had come to him...

a not so welcome visitor...

Where did 3 years go...

It had all become a blur of 

numb nights and

numb days

alone

lost

Where DID a whole 3 years go...

He so longed to be that wizard

he once was...

but that could never be

he was no longer that wizard

he needed to find a new pathway...

but what

where

and most of all

how

it hit him hard today

his creator's birthday

he just couldn't let it pass 

again

something needed to be done

his creator had been a wild child

that few really knew

he had a gift

that he rarely shared

a storyteller

and Zanzibar knew that without him

he, Zanzibar, wouldn't even exist

(not publicly anyway)

what the storyteller didn't know

was that Zanzibar had always kept an eye on him

always

Zanzibar remembered Katoomba days

in the Blue Mountains

he saw his creator

explore the secret crevices of the town

poky art galleries

dishevelled bookshops

and one special day

when he explored old Carrington Hotel in the main street...

my creator danced up the old, crumbling stone steps

past a bronze statue of Pan

and peered through smeared windows...

he saw workmen inside...

new timbers

carried past sad old grand stairways...

he longed to go inside and explore...

it was then my creator told her

how he imagined this grand old lady

in the years after 1883...

especially the early 1900's

she must have shone with beauty

he mourned that she became derelict from the 1980's

neglected

unloved

undervalued

forgotten

but now he felt excited

perhaps the old lady

could be grand again

It was then that I saw my creator in a new way...

I could see these very attributes in him...

to some extent...

His blatant showmanship

his raw logic...

That wasn't really my creator at all...

He was insecure...

Not confident that what skills he had really mattered...

He feared being small...

And so he performed

dreaming of and activating weekend escapes

taking her with him

showing her evidence of his inner worlds

that he could not put into his own words...

That explains why he never wrote down his stories...

That explains why she determined

that somehow

she would write them for him

that somewhere

someone

may notice

Aaaah

Now I'm smiling

I see the new Zanzibar

She and I will create together

(as really we have been doing for a few years now...

silly me)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY RAY

Zanzibar had lost his adventure spirit...

Zanzibar had lost his adventure spirit...
For some wintry days now, he had been unwell...
lacking the energy to move ...
He just wanted to sit...
in his favourite old rocking chair...
on his tiny verandah...
And stare at far horizons...

And sleep...

on one of these many days...
as he rocked away gently...
Zanzibar's eyes happened to drift down to the little rock garden near his doorway...
He stopped...

Strange...
He had never noticed water gathering like a little pool round the rocks before...


And there was his little tortoise friend
eyeing him
as if sending bubble thoughts his way...

At last you notice me...
Sometimes...
The beauty you seek and the inspiration for great thoughts
can be right here...
Your horizons begin 
right here

at home...

Zanzibar slowly smiled...
and saluted his little friend...


and suddenly
Zanzibar felt an exciting urge to plan

a fresh journey...


a journey
on water...



Happy (belated) Birthday Ray

Zanzibar at the zoo...

Zanzibar had not wandered a zoo for a long time...
In fact, he was not so sure he had ever been to a zoo...
The thought of wild animals
caged
was not one of has favourite visions...
But he thought he would give the zoo a try...

The zoo was crowded
with people...
school groups
Mums and prams
littered the wide expanse of lawn...
Zanzibar guessed
that's what people do at lunch-time...
just hang around and have a bite to eat...

But he moved on...
There were many diverging pathways...
one was thick with tall bamboo
The sign said tigers...
So tigers he would see...
He stared... he searched... and stared some more...
No tigers...
Zanzibar smiled...
This was how it should be...
Wild animals marking their own wild world
minus human intervention...
He had hope...

He took another pathway...
It was like wandering through a lush forest...
With glassed viewing areas by water...
And there was a pygmy hippo
quietly drinking...
It seemed the glass provided a barrier and a connection...
No bars...
No feeling of cages...
Again Zanzibar smiled...

He wandered on...
There were the cute meerkats
and lemurs
Romping around the rocks and greens of their world...
They seemed at peace...
Yet somehow
He had not found that magic spark he sought...
That was...
Until he saw the long-tailed furry beauty of
The colobus monkeys...

He watched their antics for a while...
One was on a post
teasing the other below
his long tail swishing and tickling the other's face...
The one below constantly tried to grab the tail
but the teaser whisked it out of reach every time...
Zanzibar felt a glow of happiness
Melting slowly and sweetly
Through his limbs...
Yes...
They are content here...
No hunters seeking their fur...
No endangered habit
As in their original African home...
Here...
They have a chance to live
for as long as 30 years...
As they are meant to live...

Then...
One colobus monkey turned
And seemed to seek his eyes...
The deeply grooved face
The white beard...
The moment when the ancients
Spoke...



It was time to leave

Zanzibar once again passed the lawn crammed with people
And bustling with chatter...
But a flash of black and white caught his eye...
He turned
And near a pram
In a stream of sunlight
Was a child
Dancing around
Freely

In a cute
Black and white
Bearded
Jump suit


Moral #1: All cages may not be cages...
Moral #2: Wisdom can be cloaked in magic...
Moral #3: Keep your eyes wide open...




NOTES
Today I visited Melbourne Zoo.
I thought I would take you with me, knowing how much you loved animals.
The lion, notably was turned to his own world.
But he was there.

This may not be one of your original stories.
The memory details of those magical dreams are fading now.
But it has been written
in the spirit
of your Zanzibar...


Happy Birthday Ray

Zanzibar had a secret yearning to paint... Part 2

Part 2

Finally, Zanzibar was ready to create his magnus opus...


He brushed the table with a nasturtium wash
The colour was pretty in the bottle
But somehow it changed
Seeped into the woods in parts
In others
The colours seemed to globulate and sheen

Zanzibar shrugged
And decided to continue

He thought he'd better outline his fantasy shapes and figures

He used a tiny paring knife
So he could control the black outline
But the knife seemed to have a bad habit of scratching into the wood
And dots of black seemed to appear in the wrong places

Zanzibar was a little frustrated by this time
He really wanted to use the beautiful colours he had made
So he used his pieces of bark and twigs
Trying to put the colour inside his black outline
But the black had not dried and seemed to wash into his colours
Worse still
Bits of bark and twigs were becoming stuck in the colour
Zanzibar tried to pinch them out
But only succeeded in leaving his own fingerprints behind

By this time
Zanzibar was feeling some rather grim rushes and waves of despair
In short
He felt depressed

Finally Zanzibar decided it was time to give up
The colour
The bark
The table
All seemed to have a mind of their own

Zanzibar headed forlornly to bed
It was late
Later than he realised
He had missed the sunset
He had missed tea
But that all seemed so irrelevant
So far away
He was just so tired
And so sad

Next morning
Zanzibar woke with the sunrise as usual
His friendly wren greeted him on his window-sill
Zanzibar smiled
But only for a fleeting moment
He knew he had to face the painting
On his breakfast table

Well
He had to go out there sometime or other

Out Zanzibar went
Very slowly

Quietly
Very slowly
He approached the table

And just gazed
And gazed

Before him was indeed a painting
But nothing like the one he thought he had created
Indeed
A lot of the paint had seeped into the wood
But some had stayed
Creating magical outlines and shapes

Is that the face of the daughter of Neptune
Zanzibar wondered
Or is it really the face of Helen of Troy
But if I stand over here
It seems like a mermaid basking on rocks

In total bewilderment
Zanzibar walked round and round the table
Getting more and more excited at the fantasy puzzle unravelling before him

A cloud shape looked like coral looked like foam on the sea
Looked like a white-haired wizard
A window shape looked like a mirror containing a secret garden

Hunger at last overwhelmed Zanzibar
He was starving
Hurriedly he gathered any berries close to his doorway
And dashed back inside
He'd drink his coffee cold today
It did not matter
Somehow he had created something that really entranced him
And he was going to bask in the glory
Of his unbridled skill
The wonder
The magic
Of his unique artistry


Correction...
Somehow
Something beautiful had been created

And he felt very humble


Moral #1 - Don't try to copy another's imagination... You never will...
Moral #2 - I'd love to see Zanzibar's table... But I won't copy... Promise...


Happy Birthday Ray

Zanzibar had a secret yearning to paint...Part 1

Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ Picnik fractal of a rain riddled wooden table at a Mornington cafe
~

Part 1

For so long he had admired
Egyptian murals etching out
Daily life
Royal occasion
Star gazing
And he admired some of the newer expressions
Watery blends of unchartered hues
And even the stark black and whites of old rugged huts

But most of all
Zanzibar admired
Portraits
The frustrated glimpses of inner minds and characters

Lost in ambling thought
Zanzibar had inadvertently been gazing fixedly
At the sole decoration in his tiny humble room
A sepia-toned print
Symbolising the character figures from Lord of the Rings

With a jolt
His focus captured the gruff bearded face of the central figure

Beneath the tall battered hat
Zanzibar could just make out
A kaleidoscope of well-weathered lines beneath piercing eyes
His right hand grasped a strong taut staff with authority
But his left hand rested protectively on the shoulder of a child
Another misty figure sat to his side at his feet
But before him lay
Sprawled tiny figures
Struck down in various antics of death
The partially shaped form of a scruffy mean crow looked on

The whole seemed to be captured in the framework of a cathedral-arched window
And that framed with a smaller series of fantastical vignettes

Zanzibar's eyes wandered back to the only colour in the print
A white-blue coloured sky
The bare substance of white-blue snowy peaks
And the bare touch of white-green grass in the foreground
The pale watery wash of colour
Framed in
Darkening
Receding
Sepia tones
Leant a disturbing mystical dimension to the print

Zanzibar decided
That's what he would paint
Fantasy figures and faces
So no human might be offended
That Zanzibar had created a secret portrait of him

Zanzibar had much to do in preparation
Drying flowers
Pressing flowers
Soaking flowers in water
Storing a whole range of coloured liquids in separate jars
Easing sap from leaves
Gathering damp bark and twigs

There was just one problem
He had not quite mastered the art of making paper for canvas
So Zanzibar looked around his room for a possible alternative

The walls of his room were rough and textured
Besides
Zanzibar knew that he had no particular head for heights
So he did not want to stand for hours on a chair with his arm stretched upwards
He had no wish to claim the fame of Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci
(Who was it that painted the roof of the Sistine chapel anyway)
Zanzibar glanced at his own roof and shuddered
Too many cobwebs

At length
His eyes strayed to his old wooden table
Really it was quite a solid bench
Made a long time ago for him by a tribe of cannibals in the New Guinea highlands
But that's another story

Yes
The table would be ideal
A regular surface
And best of all
Zanzibar would need no particular gymnastic skills to complete the task...
~

Dear Mr Woodcutterman...

Picnik Fractal with neon effect by Gemma Wiseman ~ A birdfeeder at Tyabb Antique Village, Mornington Peninsula
~

Dear Mr Woodcutterman,At this moment I feel a creative urge. You will be glad to know it has nothing to do with a secret yearning to paint. But that is another story which did somehow or other resolve itself. No, I wish now to do some creative project with wood. Perhaps, by now, you are getting the idea I have never worked in wood before. I did some painting on an old wooden table of mine - but that's that story I just mentioned. I would like to try, however, with a little help from you.

I would like you to select some very special wood for me. You see, I have in mind to build a bird-feeder. My forest birds often have trouble finding food in the chilly days of winter, and I would like to help them. The wood must hold warmth and reject cold. The wood must be easy for bird feet, but not too slippery in case the birds taste the unexpected experience of ice-skating. The wood must be an inviting colour. Magical, varied tones would be just the thing.

The roof will be a pointed cottage style, so the birds have a ledge on which to land and so that the food is protected from damp in the rainy season. Hopefully you will supply some extra off-cuts of wood so that the birds may even have some resting perches on the side.

The base of the bird-feeder will be surrounded by an eating ledge. I intend to attach some wind chimes to the base of the bird-feeder so that the birds may eat in musical calm.

The whole bird-feeder will be raised aloft on a staunch block of wood. This block of wood should be different - a detrrent to any animals who thoughtlessly wish to attack the birds.

Wood lengths? I have no idea really. Perhaps if I just say I would like a large bird-feeder. The roof should be high enough from the base to allow even the large forest birds to feel comfortable as they eat. I would like the block of wood to be as tall as a small tree. I would like the base to be wide enough to hold many birds on all sides.

Perhaps you could supply me with wood nails. I have failing eye-sight, so the nails must be easily seen. I don't have a hammer - I've had no need for one. Perhaps I could borrow one. Do you think I need a drill? That will be a problem. You see, my little cottage has no electrcity. Will the wood have to be sanded? My hands are old and gnarled and not as steady as they should be. Perhaps I may not even see well enough to do the sanding properly.

And, I just realised, I don't have a ladder. I will need a ladder to put the bird-feeder on the block of wood. I'm not quite sure how I could manage to do that all by myself.

My unsteady hands, my failing eyesight, my no head for heights...

Mr Woodcutterman...I think I have an idea.
Would you be so kind as to make the bird-feeder for me?
Bring it over to my cottage when you're finished, and I will hold your ladder steady while you put it up for me...

I do make beautiful honey-meade wine...If I could tempt you try some when you're done...

Waiting in magical hope...
Zanzibar
20th April, 1998