Crystal unclear

You're going to think I'm losing my mind. I'm wondering about that myself, because now I'm not only finding strange things on footpaths, but also in my clothes as well.

Yesterday was a pretty normal day as far as my new routine goes. My second youngest son, Sam, spent the night with me on Wednesday so we could have some one on one time together. We drove to town early on Thursday morning, I dropped him off at his mum's, then I parked my car in a nearby carpark and went for a long run in the wooded hills behind Nelson. I returned after an hour and a half, showered and dressed, then ran a bunch of errands before I went to my studio and got to work. No big deal; a great start to the morning.

But while I was running errands, and in fact throughout the day, I carried my cellphone in my right jeans pocket and constantly took it out to answer calls, respond to texts, check my emails, etc. I always keep the phone in my right pocket and I'm very particular about putting nothing else in that pocket, like keys or coins, when I do (it's a white 3G iPhone and there's no way in hell I'm going to let it get scuffed or scratched). The point I'm getting at is that there was nothing else in my jeans pocket. There couldn't have been because I didn't put anything there, and I've also probably washed that particular pair of jeans a million times in the last couple of months and nothing has ever fallen out into the washer.

Anyway, I read my papers, sketched out my cartoon, picked up my son Tom from school, finished the cartoon, then retrieved Sam and Alex before we all headed home later in the afternoon. When we arrived, I stepped out of the car to unlock the gate at my parent's house, and suddenly felt a sharp pain in my thigh. Reaching into my pocket, I discoverd a large and very pointy crystal jabbing me in the leg. See the pic above.

This is weird. I think the crystal is from my old house and once hung beside a sliding door where it could catch the morning light and splash miniature rainbows around the room. But I'm absolutely sure I didn't take it with me when I moved out in late December, and if I did and then forgot, I certainly would've had my memory jogged by its sharp glass edges numerous times in the past few weeks. So how did it get there? And how on earth did I not notice it sooner in such an obvious place? I wondered if maybe it was a scrying glass, gifted along with the worry dolls (see last post) by my guardian angels. But its powers seem limited to cheerful rainbows, and maybe that's enough anyway. Aren't rainbows supposed to signify that things will get better after floods and cataclysms and such? That's a comfort too.

There was a brief exchange between commenters on my last post about whether we can have faith in things we don't perceive, ie God. For the record, I'm sure there's a whole lot more to our reality than what we can detect or measure or intuit with our physical senses. Numerous incidents throughout my life would suggest this, but I'll mention one here and you can make of it what you will. It kinda ties in nicely with the crystal story.

Years ago when I was running a whole lot more, and eating a whole lot more to fuel my training, I used to go through about three or four bananas a day. At the time I was living with a Kiwi girl (she was a runner too, very health conscious, and we chewed through bushels of fruit a week) in a flat high on Cleveland Terrace overlooking Nelson, and one night before bed I remember checking our depleted fruit basket and noting there was only one banana left. One banana. Definitely only one because I was appalled to think we might run out. I think I wrote "Buy bananas!" on our refrigerator whiteboard, then I hit the sack.

That night I dreamed there was a bunch of bananas in the basket, that someone had placed them there while I slept. The next day I was the first out of bed and I bounded into the kitchen for a quick snack before my morning jog. But when I looked to the fruit basket, I froze in my tracks: three bananas, connected together, had replaced the one from the night before. I ran back to the bedroom and woke my girlfriend up, excitedly quizzing her about the magically materialising fruit, and as I recall, she looked at me as if I was crazy. "But there's three bananas!" I said. "Three! And there was only one last night, I'm sure!" When she continued to stare at me blankly I decided to let the matter drop. But it shook me up and stayed with me for a while.

How did the extra bananas get there? Who knows. It's a mystery that shall forever remain unsolved, and maybe that's a good thing, because mysteries – even if they end up having a logical explanation – can make us consider other possibilities. The possibility, for example, that the barrier between our consciousness and reality is only an illusion, and that with enough will, creative visualisation (and hard work, don't forget that) we can manifest anything in our lives. Maybe sometimes, when we least expect it, we can even dream something into existence.

Sorry for the ramble. Here's today's Waitangi Day cartoon. As I write this in my studio at Founders Park, there's a big celebration nearby and people are flocking to the park to enjoy displays of Maori dancing and all sorts of treats cooked up in hangis. Laughter is drifting up to my room and floating through my windows on a cool breeze. Somewhere a haka is being performed enthusiastically and the collection of revellers is a magnificent mix of young and old, brown and white, Asian and everything in between. The hues may not be in proportion, but they're still blended together harmoniously, and that's as fitting a commentary on what Waitangi Day means as anything else I can think of.

He iwi tahi tatou. We are one people. Let's never forget it.

Streamlining the RMA is fine, but please God don't let them remove the right of local communities to decide whether or not they want big projects shoved down their throats – even if the projects are ostensibly of national importance. Roads and dams and wind turbines are all fine, but we musn't let big money speak louder than the voices of the vulnerable. In the haste to stimulate our economy I fear that the balance will be tipped towards big business, and the urge to act will eclipse responsible and sustainable resource management.