In a blur of driving the road through the Stony Rises bits of me wandered off in glimpses of clouds reflected in waterlogged paddocks and distant views of hazy blue hills – the Otways on a rain filled day.
Calling back these fragments of self I find they are loathe to return. Some seem forever lost.
Is this how life is when the years mount up? Are bits of self forever lost on random bends in the road? It could go either way I guess. Essential parts of self could shear off unexpectedly so that I forget even the sound of my own name. Either that or unnecessary accumulations of false selves gathered in department stores and in social groups could drop away so that all that remains is the core of the authentic self. How do you ensure the latter process happens rather than the former?
Photos not taken,
moments lost in transit
– parallel lives
Reverse poetry –
I knew I had too much stuff. The car is 3/4s packed and this is part what’s left over. My clothes, computer stuff and cameras are in another part of the room.
Time for a rethink … obviously I need my coffee pot … and my drum … pots to cook in … computers … cameras … clothes … toothbrush … hairbrush …
So today’s question isn’t ‘why do I have stuff?’ but ‘what stuff do I actually need?”
I’ll only have intermittent internet connection for the next week or so. Please excuse me if I take a while to get back to you. Although I will probably never meet you face to face sharing my thoughts and feelings about this move has really helped keep me on track. Thanks for reading.
Boxes filled and half filled
stacked up in the living room.
Boxes, bags, baskets
holding my stuff.
Last week I moved
boxes, bags, baskets
to my new house
This week I’m packing
boxes, bags, baskets,
yet more boxes.
Why do I even have stuff?
Scrolling through my photo archives I came across these images. I’d forgotten about them but now I’ve rediscovered them I feel like it’s time they got another online outing.
The photos were taken at DÃseart, the Institute of Education and Celtic Culture in Dingle on the west coast of Ireland. The building was originally a chapel and these stained glass windows were created by the Irish artist, Harry Clarke in 1922.
Clarke was in important figure in the Irish Arts and Crafts Movement. His work is renown for its rich colours and bold patterning.
Looking up at the tall arched windows in the now empty chapel I was fascinated by the way he appears to have been able to draw on glass.
The intricate patterns and faces look more like pen and ink drawings than stained glass.
Driving home through the driving rain
Today I drove back from my new home to my old one to get my last load of stuff. The weather was very intense. Bands of heavy rain were followed by periods of sunshine. The many lakes of Western Victoria glinted silver in the bright light.
As each band of rain swept across the A1 highway visibility was severely reduced. Days of heavy rain had created random potholes in the road surfaces. The large trucks and SUVs that charged along the highway were undeterred by the difficult driving conditions and kept up a steady speed of at least 100 kph.
After a couple of hours of being tailgated by these vehicles I needed a break. I could see another rain band up ahead and decided to drive up to a lookout just off the highway to photograph it’s approach.
The rain arriving at the carpark
The short track to the summit
360 degree views from the summit
The conditions deteriorated as I got closer to my old home. Pulling into the driveway and walking into a pile of boxes and random bits of furniture I have yet to move was strange. Although the place was utterly familiar I felt disconnected from it. I left my new place in bright sunshine this morning and got back to the old one in cold grey rain this afternoon.
The old washes away from me.
Following links on other blogs I found myself at https://ramblingsofawriter2016.com/2018/08/08/weekly-tanka-prompt-poetry-challenge-week-108-paloma-imagination/ and a weekly tanka challenge I hadn’t seen before. This week’s challenge is to use the words paloma and imagination. I had to look up the meaning of the word paloma for I thought it was that name of that Spanish town where they do the running of the bulls. I’ve been there and my imagination ran overtime picturing blood in the streets and horribly gorged bodies.
When I looked up the word paloma I found it had a completely different meaning “- Paloma is a female given name, derived from Latin “palumbus” which means Dove; a symbol of Peace. The name also can be understood as The Holy Spirit symbolized in this bird” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paloma
round and round,
– the monkey mind –
walking alone in nature
my mind breaks free