‘Come Summer I Will Be Verdant’
Tag: Wellbeing
I Looked Up
‘I Looked Up’
Impenetrable
‘Impenetrable’
In dark days, I couldn’t see my way clear.
Others said “you will get through this”.
In time, I found the belief of others and the impenetrable melted away….
Smooth Sailing
‘Smooth Sailing’
…there is nothing more certain, when all is smooth sailing, than that the winds will pick up and the whitecaps kick up…
Only Clinging On (Shell Game)
‘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
‘Disturbed’Â
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.
Against The Odds
‘Against The Odds’
…you can get choked by adverse forces, but you just might grow despite them…
Please Slide To Open
‘Please Slide To Open’
There is a chink of light outside the door.
Slide the door.
Don’t pull it, or push it.
There is a slight opening, which will get bigger as you go.
Ease into the light, for you cannot force it.
Outside awaits you.
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.
Under The Wharf, Above The Waves (IX)
A return to the place between, of neither/nor ;to the weathered piles of the wharf, where the barnacles cling…I find myself there again.
Parched
‘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.
Stepping It Out
‘Stepping It Out’
Stepping up, stepping down
steps cut both ways you know
take them to the top
or to the place below
if I cross you on the steps
let’s swap notes
on our destinations
or maybe stay awhile
in the middle
content without extremes
whichever way
we step it out
the increments mark our time.
Ebbed Out, Not Effed Up
‘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!
Guiding Light
‘Guiding Light’
When it all gets a bit tangled and gloomy, we all need a guiding light, someone or something, to see us through.
Song for the day, to match, from Television’s classic 1977 debut album, ‘Marquee Moon’:
 “Guiding light, guiding light
         guiding through these nights”
Under The Wharf, Above The Waves (VIII)
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
‘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…
No Admittance
‘Private Property. No admittance’, the battered sign on the fence proclaims.
It’s subtle code for:
” Not in my backyard”
” Keep the hell away”
and,
” F**k off ( pretty please)”
We can all hang that sign out from time.
I get it.
The need for self – preservation runs deep.
But as a usual modus operandi, it is a doomed stratagem.
Putting up walls, or even wire mesh perimeter fencing with forbidding signage, will give us privacy but also isolation.
Isolation, self- imposed or otherwise; loneliness – they kill as surely as war and disease.
It pays to remember, before we put out the rusty old ‘no admittance’ sign, that potential trespassers might be bringing unexpected gifts and even total strangers may become firm friends.
Diamond Life
‘Diamond Life’
…some diamonds don’t shine and some won’t make you rich…
Papering Over The Cracks
Vintage embossed wallpaper in a country pub just south of Auckland, spotted last weekend.
Complicated!
Sumptuous and symmetrical.
It is art in its own very repetitive and expansive way.
Wallpaper performs a decorative function, but of course hides what lies behind it.
God knows, I have papered over my own cracks at times, working feverishly like “a one-armed paper hanger”, to borrow a phrase.
Most of the time the people in the room had no earthly idea of the unsightly mess beneath…
Daybreak Intent
Early this morning; another Monday with it all ahead, but with a head that is somewhat emotionally clouded.
The short walk to the train tosses up a cloudscape of its own.
One radiant with a warm energy.
An ornamental pole stabs at the fiery sky with a directness and intent that was lacking in me.
There is a simple message for me there: upwards and onwards, mate – the day will follow your intent.
And just pausing to admire the scene and take a picture is a simple way to take you out of your own head…
ebb then flood 