I was at a frisbee tournament this weekend, the Eastern Regional Championships. Teams from Sydney, Newcastle, Wollongong and Canberra competed. The top teams from this tournament qualify to play at the National Championships in April.


There was a game at the end of the weekend between two teams who really wanted to go to the National Championships. The winner would go, the loser would not. The Game To Go. One of the teams was full of youngsters and the team hadn’t qualified since 2004. The other team was a former national champion, perennial top competitor and quite experienced. It was high action, high tension. Somewhere else, someone else was winning the tournament. It did not mater, the big show was right here. 

After an hour the game was 10 all. The next team to score a goal would win and qualify for Nationals. Hectic. All the other games had finished, the field was surrounded with interested, invested and intrigued spectators. It was hard to see the middle of the field through the wall of bodies vibrating along the sideline. At one point a long throw sailed into the young team’s endzone, a young person exploded down the field with hair and limbs flapping. They dove and caught the frisbee for the win, this was a spectacular way for the game to end. Somewhere between 40 and 400 people rushed on the field. There was a pile of bodies, shirts where whipped around heads, I thought I saw a bin on fire pushed on the field as a part of celebrations. The only problem was there was a call. An illegal move from the offence, and it wasn’t a win at all.


The game wasn’t over. Tears of joy had to be wiped away, players untangled themselves, and the field was swept clear of the mini carnival that had just occurred. It’s hard to imagine the emotional journey of the people playing in the game. Joy, grief, surprise, frustration, determination perhaps.


Play started again and the scene repeated itself. The youngsters won the game and a place at the National Championships. Shirts were thrown, hugs were hugged and all kinds of emotions were felt on both teams. The kids won, they are going to Nationals. 



This article from Monday has aged pretty well following the Sunday result. 
https://insideoutultimate.substack.com/p/manly-the-future

There is a legend that Harry Houdini, the master escape artist, daredevil and person who spent his adult life surviving incredible risks and dangers, died from a simple punch to the stomach.


Houdini travelled the world, making his living challenging police forces to handcuff him well enough that he couldn’t break out. He was buried alive and climbed out. He was handcuffed, upside down inside a barrel of water and had to pick the lock before running out of breath. Locked in a box, thrown overboard from a tug boat. Straight jacket, upside down in a barrel. People watched with fear and amazement. Cool job Harry.


Due to the physical nature of his life Harry’s body was super tough, coiled like a great muscular spring. The legend is that his musculature was so honed that he could be struck in the belly by a grown man and suffer no ill effects.


One night in Montreal a real cool guy decided to test out the legend and struck Houdini repeatedly in the abdomen. Houdini was lying on a couch at the time due to an escape related broken ankle and wasn’t really ready for the old stomach of iron test. He performed that night in pain, developed a fever, refused to miss his death defying act 2 days later and died shortly after with acute appendicitis.


So what do you do with this knowledge/legend of Harry Houdini?


Get super fit? Do a bit less boasting? Make sure you check for concent at all times? Perhaps do less punching of other people’s stomachs, even if they can take it? Maybe just kiss your family and try to have a good day?

August is not the best time to see the northern lights, that’s actually November through to February at midnight according to the guidebooks. That was fine with me, I came to Iceland for the waterfalls and ‘the crack’ - the Eurasian and North American continental plates are moving apart at the top of the world and liquid rock bubbles up through the crack to form Iceland. Hectic.


On our third night a local told us that the “lights forecast” for tonight was favourable. He also responded with “oh yes, the green house” when we said we were in an Airbnb around the corner so the whole exchange felt a bit dodgy. We went outside late at night anyway but some clouds came over and nothing happened.


We got back to our business of looking at waterfalls, volcanic rock and glaciers for the next few days and it was all sensational. One night after a long walk, a thermal spring and some shark-jerky we were driving back to our accomodation. There was a strange cloud in the black sky. It travelled in a straight line from one horizon to the other. It called to mind a gentle stream that was rippling across the sky, white and slightly transparent. We looked and looked back and decided that in fact it could be a streak of aurora borealis.


I drove back quickly and we scrambled out of the car. The situation had escalated!


The sky had become light-fire. Pink and green dripping shapes began to dance around the horizon. We had a nearly unobstructed view from the gravel driveway. Suddenly and also quiet gently the colour coalesced into a dancing animal that we described as many things between a hippo and an eel. This shape was predominantly pink and was close to a mountain ridge at the near horizon. It felt like something magnificent we could witness at a safe distance. So far the whole scene had felt very safe and entertaining, beautiful and wonderful but defiantly benign. Then it changed.


The dancing pink worm creature abated and bright green liquid light began to drip upwards from the whole perimeter of the sky bowl. The green was vivid at its closest to the earth and steadily faded as it climbed up the sides of the enormous dome we suddenly realised we were standing at the centre of. As the light gathered at the centre directly above us it also gathered power and vigour. The green moved together from all points above us before coming together and cascading directly down and into our souls.


The three of us cling to each other as we were pressed back onto the bonnet of our car in awe and shock. We exclaimed out loud. The light was no longer a natural phenomenon for us to watch and enjoy, it had become a personal experience of the very tiny humans and the very powerful universe.


An eye of galactic judgement, or a dragon of righteous inspection had come to our world and we felt vulnerable.


After a while the sky eased and lights danced on in the distance. We stood back upright and looked at each other. I could see that the others had also glimpsed something incredible.


I’ve asked the other two since. None of us have seen anything else that engendered the same sense of awe.


I took a shaky photo, on an old phone as the universe poured directly down from the centre of the sky into my spirit. It doesn’t do it justice.