027 A new angle

29 01 2012

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.


025 Scorched

26 01 2012

heatwave across the city


Relentless, brutal, baking heat. 42 degrees (108F). Office workers emerge from chilled cubicles at midday, holding newspapers to their faces to avoid the sun’s harsh slap. Towers and pavements collude by storing and bouncing heat, providing no escape. While friends from afar shovel snow with numbed fingers.

022 Tea for two

22 01 2012

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A leisurely morning at an easy pace. An ride along the top of the hill before the humidity claims the day.  The rose farm serves breakfast now as well as morning tea. You read the latest news and listen to the birds chirping, bobbing, dancing for crumbs, while I wander with camera in hand, stopping and losing time amongst the pots. The delicate blooms are tougher than me, surviving the onslaught of a relentless summer without the need for hats or sunscreen. It is a lovely way to start the day, leaving all the ‘shoulds’ at home. We rejoin for tea and share our thoughts. What did you read? What did you see? I need to make more time for this.

020 Finding the balance

20 01 2012

At the recent exhibition from the Victoria & Albert Museum

There are two windows
at the top of the control tower
giving near 180 degree view.
I spend a lot of time in there,
planning, directing and organising.
I think it’s good.

I’ve recently been grounded,
unable to retreat to the top.
Loss of control, limited vision,
no dials or points of reference.
I don’t usually spend a lot of time out here,
aware, alive, breathing.
I feel it’s better.

018 Woven together

18 01 2012

Flotsam & Jetsam - Ropes washed ashore: Lancelin, West Australia

Tangled and worn from carrying too much weight,

cut off and cast overboard by impatient ones.

Left to drift on the current and

eventually surrender to the flow.

Some old, some worn, some smooth, neat and tight,

some frayed, twisted, knotted,

undone and unravelled in all sizes and colours.

I’m glad you’ve washed up here with me to weave your story into mine.

017 Expectations

17 01 2012

The Emu - flightless bird

The emu stalks warily, a large feathered bird.
I expect it will escape, take flight,
its shadow stretching arrowlike across the land.
Instead, the emu runs as fast as the wind
On strong, lean legs.
Expectations and assumptions.
I look past my useless feathers to find my
unexpected strength.

014 Leafy streets

14 01 2012

Leaf - a miniature map (Photo copyright and courtesy of Akrotiri)

Travelling north west,
take a right turn off the freeway and
head towards the jagged coast.
Main roads cross into streets and
feed into culdesacs where neighbours
compete for the greenest lawn.

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