Whirl Of Pain

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‘Whirl Of Pain’

This is for those trapped in a whirl of pain; the razor wire of your personal hell encircling you.

You don’t need to be told what pain feels like.

But you have to believe there is some good in you, and the world, and that you will find it somehow.

Just in the same way that there is light and sky through the wire in the photo,”beyond” awaits…

 

 

Only Clinging On (Shell Game)

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‘Only Clinging On (Shell Game)’

Tiny mussels and barnacles, thousands of them, cling to a rock in the sea, which in turn is enveloped in the tide’s swirl.

Fragility plays relentlessness in this particular shell game.

Sometimes I feel like one of those small molluscs or crustaceans, insignificant and only clinging on to life.

Those are the days that you hold on to whatever hope you have, and it doesn’t matter what it is…

Disturbed

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‘Disturbed’ 

On the surface of things, it’s a tranquil scene of coastal New Zealand.

Nothing disturbing, but something is disturbed.

The high winds and hard rain blew through here only minutes ago.

In the distance, there is a thick haze.

It is neither fog nor smoke.

The sand off the dunes and sandspit has been temporarily displaced into the air.

What was on the ground is now airborne.

There are those moments in our lives too, when havoc wreaks and major disturbance occurs.

When everything is up in the air.

It’s uncomfortable for sure.

But when you are in that space there is, if nothing else, the chance to see things from another, different, perspective.

And sometimes after the chaos, there will be a sense of tranquility.

If you are in “the churn”, I hope you find that, I really do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Breakwater

‘The Breakwater’

A favourite Auckland place – the short, curving breakwater at the Devonport shore.

I have visited there a number of times before, but this time around I was drawn to its pure functionality.

The sandy beach just out of shot was protected by the waves driven by a fresh south-easterly wind.

There was calm in the lee of the solid pier.

The breakwater was doing its job.

Which had me thinking about what breaks the adverse forces that fall upon us in life.

There is something about resilience in this. The tools that we have at our disposal or the things we learn along the way, that mitigate the effect of the negative and the harmful.

I spent a great part of my adult life not realising that resilience was even a quality. Stuff happened and you just dealt with it well, or didn’t, as the case may have been.

Which is sort of leaving things to chance.

The reason some people bounce back from tumult or disaster, and others don’t, doesn’t come down to genetics or your star sign.

It is our hard earned resilience that makes the difference. That is: learning from experience; realising that existence is both fluid and fragile; and finding shelter (or a breakwater) when you need it.

Just as an aside, resilience should not be confused with stoicism. I have learned the difference between the two the hard way. Stoicism is pretending you are the breakwater.

In life, as in the shoreline scene, we find ourselves on either side of the breakwater at different times.

Resilience is just knowing where to position yourself when the waves toss up.

 

 

 

Parched

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‘Parched’

This is what a drought does.

It leaves the local freshwater lagoon almost devoid of water and its normally hidden base soil left desiccated and cracked.

From a photographer’s perspective the repetitive abstract patterns of the dried mud are brilliant.

But the birdlife and fish at the lagoon have struggled through Auckland’s worst dry spell in a quarter century .They have boxed on in their sad-arse environs and I have felt sorry for them.

Rain is forecast for today, mercifully. The dawn showers are starting to fall, the heavier stuff will roll in later in the day. Being a pluviophile (rain lover) of sorts, I have a sense of keen anticipation. And the ducks, herons, geese, eels and carp are gonna love it!

When you are parched, you fully appreciate that which slakes your thirst.

 

 

Ebbed Out, Not Effed Up

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‘Ebbed Out, Not Effed Up’

So, the tide has ebbed and gone out.

Your flow has flown, so to speak.

Maybe it’s a rock bottom.

Or perhaps you’re just lying on the mud and silt; motionless, hanging onto your ropes and reflecting only yourself dimly.

But, you are not f**ked up, not finished yet – the next tide will come to re-purpose you – just you wait and see!

Under The Wharf, Above The Waves (VIII)

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This is the latest iteration in an ongoing (and originally unintended) series .

It’s a recurring image that appears to me, like a dream, and then demands another  projection on this blog’s screen.

I see it when I am feeling out of sorts with life.

That “in between” place; neither/nor; the netherworld.

This time around it feels like the whole coronavirus – worried world is of an uncertain mind.

We are mostly, then, somewhere under the wharf and above the waves…for now.

Stay safe people,hang on to the pilings!

 

Private

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‘Private’

A wrought iron gate cordons off a small and somewhat mysterious flight of stone stairs in the Tower of London.

The sign spells out the obvious.

It’s a classier warning sign than the one I featured in the recent post No Admittance, but  amounts to the same thing really.

The bars pictured here are signifiers of more than privacy – they emphatically spell isolation.

The Tower, in bygone times, was home to many prisoners, who I suspect had way more privacy than they would have liked…