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Categories : Life, Random, Weekly Photo Challenge
2012 – In Review
A year of grief, of reflection and realignment. It has been the longest year. We started 2012 about a week after Beth’s funeral and her absence was felt every day of the year. We changed our view on things, realising just how precious life is and how important it is to live a life of love, gratitude, simplicity and laughter. Thanks to Beth we made changes that would never have happened without such a sharp wake up call and a call to life. She heads this gallery because she underpins it. She’s been with us and is still part of our lives every day. Following on, what would life be without watching a game of cricket? I got a new desk job in the city and we started eating fresh and healthy local produce. A slogan on a city window reminded me to savour the moment – a recurring theme for 2012. We said goodbye to our beautiful dog Jasper in March and we still miss her. I took up a martial art, something I’d wanted to do since childhood. Even though I was the oldest in class, I loved it. We challenged ourselves, got out of our ‘comfort rut’ and took a chopper ride, reminding us that life is bigger than what you see around you. We spent time with good people, and shed those who sucked the energy out of us. We visited great friends in Darwin and decided to change our lives and join them in the Northern Territory. We came home after four days and starting selling, packing, recycling, shedding and storing our goods ready for the move. On Boxing Day we said goodbye to our hometown, goodbye to our family and friends and made our way off on a new adventure. 2013 will be an interesting ride. We know now that we can do anything.
Beth – With us always
Cricket of course
City desk job
Make each moment count…
Weekly farmers’ markets
ZenDoKai – patience and balance
RIP our Jasper x x x
The love of good people
A visit to Darwin
Packing and Storage
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Tags: growth, life, now, perspective, perth, postaday, zen
Categories : Grief and Loss, Life, Random
Illusions in Art: alley off Hay St, Perth.
Illusion of Story
It’s interesting that we tell ourselves stories, construct our destiny, and futures. Then we’re disappointed when things don’t go the way we’ve imagined. But that’s just it. The future is just what we imagined. It doesn’t actually exist. It is an illusion. There is no future right now. There is just now.
I created a future, a script of what life would bring. Rather than hold it lightly, I believed it was the way things would be, shouldbe. It seemed fair. There was an order about it. Events occured in succession. This one was born, would marry and would die in a certain order. The illusion was shattered and sense of ‘natural’ broke too. Life seems somehow more uncertain, more unpredictable. That too is an illusion – life has always been that way, it is never tamed, never harnessed. I learn to hold each moment gently in the palm of my hand. I haven’t stopped making plans but I think very differently now.
Illusions of love
It’s interesting how those around us rate our relationships and judge our closeness. It seems there is a framework for where our love should lie. I’ve had people wonder why my mother-in-law’s death has anything to do with me – a mother-in-law can’t be that close. A sister must be so much closer than a friend. How shallow it is to rate someone’s love and the quality of a relationship. I’m sad they have no concept of how love can seep into life, but I’m also glad they don’t know this roaring ache of love lost. I love that my love breaks all those norms. I love people, some related, most not. The relative rating scale of ‘closeness’ is such an illusion.
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Tags: grief, growth, perspective, postaday
Categories : Small Stones
A completely different side of things
Another set of goodbyes today. Grief still sits silently as a thick fog, slowing the mind, slowing the body, scrambling my radar and thought process. My vision and clarity are limited. Occasionally, pockets of clear fresh air waft through the fog bringing a lucid moment. I expect to see my world again, back to normal. Instead, the great revealer shows me a new life, unlocks a ripened part of me and gifts me with a different view. I look out and catch a glimpse of my world, full of familiar things that look different now. A new angle, a new perspective, a new clarity, a new heart. I can’t un-know this now and although I’m glad to see things afresh, in some ways I mourn the loss of my former paradigm too.