Dumbo Feather

I’m a failure of a mentor, but I do love my friend.He said he had to take a trip — one year, two —and asked me to stay behind to guide his son. I said I’d dothe best I could. As the boy grew, he’d turn to me for help.I’d give advice. By night, I’d pray to all the godsthat at least some of it was right. Fighting brewed.Sometimes I heard myself say things to the boy I didn’t knowI knew. I’d see something on his face while I spokeand I’d wonder what he was listening to. Or who.One decade stretched to two. Things grew worse at home.When we finally found the father, they each knew the other.Then they set about revenge - pursuing every threat.I think I did the…

I don’t recall when you arrived.Unusual, I suppose, for a goddessof war - I would have bet ontrumpets and fanfare, butthere was none of that,just an olive tree and a note.You offered an invitation. For once,there was no strategy.Instead, possibilities - fieldsand fields and fieldswashed in Adriatic sunlight.And over there,a shimmer of you - bow raisedand drawn. In The Odyssey, the character Mentor was asked to look after a boy while the boy’s father went to war. The father was away for almost 20 years. Mentor and the boy — now a young man — went to find him. Athena, the goddess of war, would sometimes disguise herself as Mentor to guide the son. David Laverty is a poet from Canada. Pádraig Ó Tuama is a poet from Ireland. They…

I have absolutely loved every brief and shining moment of editing Dumbo Feather these past 12 months. My connection with the magazine began in 2015, when, adoring the content, I offered my services as a proof reader. I wanted to honour the magazine by eradicating every typo; now as editor I understand what a challenge that can be! Moving into our collective, collaborative future, Dumbo Feather will be honoured as an artefact of connection that will never be less than what it has been, because it isn’t printed a few times a year. As a nature lover, the silver lining is to keep more trees in the ground. But I adore holding the magazine, what it represents and the lives it has touched. Thank you to our community for your…

I was 14 when Bad Religion arrived in my life. I was gifted their 2002 album, The Process of Belief, by my cool aunt. The record, all breakneck drums and supersonic guitars, featured songs that dismantled materialism, consumerism, capitalism, corporations and corporate-interest politics. One track, the frenzied Kyoto Now!, beamed the urgency of our climate predicament directly into my brain while I sat, headphones-on, hormones raging, in the backseat of my parents’ car. Even now, 20 years on, the lyrics of Kyoto Now! cut to the quick: “The media-paraded, disjointed politics / Founded on petro-chemical plunder, and we’re its hostages,” vocalist Greg Graffin intoned during the intro. It was a lot. And it was the first time I’d encountered music with a message. Bad Religion reconstructed my worldview brick-by-brick. Their…

Jordan Hireup started for my sister Laura and me with our brother Shane. He had cerebral palsy and relied on support in all aspects of his life. Seeing the challenges that Shane faced in trying to find good, consistent support made us want to do something. We had this idea for a website or app that could connect someone like our brother with great support workers in the community. It was amazing how much need there was. In 2016, when we were setting up Hireup, we’d get in these crappy cars and drive up and down the coast doing presentations. It was quite nerve-racking. I walked into this community hall one night, wondering if anyone was going to turn up. I came around the corner and saw the back of…

It was just after five a.m. on a crisp London morning in April 2020. Along with the rest of the world, the UK had recently implemented a lockdown (whatever that was) and the light of its capital was starting to dim more and more each day. Like everyone everywhere, London’s residents were a cocktail of confusion and increasing panic. “It will all be okay, right?” was the question, demand, and plea that began permeating our every waking - and sleeping - hour. My strategy tor countering the uncertainty and tear was to continue business as usual. I epitomised “Keep calm and carry on”. I continued to rise at five a.m., I continued to expect bountiful creativity and productivity from my days, and continued to plan for an exciting future I…