Looking back.

I used to think that going back to somewhere special was a senseless risk not worth taking.   Whether it be a special location, a rewarding workplace or extraordinary experience, these things are always preserved at a point of high regard.  I have many of these accumulating in my life so going back to any could alter whatever it was that made the place or memory so special - it could be crushed.  However, not too long ago it was with some trepidation but a little excitement that I ventured back to one such place.  For many years it had survived on as the epitome of my formative experiences, from which everything I am today was based upon and to where all my achievements can be credited.  But I felt I was ready to return, and indeed needed to.  Something about it felt unfinished.  Maybe a return would complete some sort of unseen cycle that I started all those years ago.  And it did.  Going back did complete the cycle.  I left with a lighter sense of being than what I had going in, still without any real clarity of what that was, but it felt like that chapter finally closed.   I can see now though that this place had lived on unchanged in my mind for years, and because of that, I sensed I was missing out on great things as I was no longer there.  But going back made me see everything was different.  I was different. My memories had hybridised and taken on lives of their own, never to match the reality that time had changed the place, the people and the protagonist – me.  So as that chapter is now closed, I still have the memories, but time to start a new one.  And I no longer think going back to somewhere special is a risk – it’s a gift. 

A Magic Carpet

Its been a magic carpet ride for the past few years.  Many a time have I needed to stop and pinch myself.  My first few roles out of the zoo keeping profession were a bit shaky and uneven, not really sure of my own abilities and the expectations of others and if they would ever match up.  Apparently not in some cases.  The best way I described it to others was that as a zookeeper, it all felt so very natural, instinctive, innate, instinctual.  I often felt I had been training for the role my entire life, everything was already part of me, an extension of who I was.  Moving out of this field in to a corporate field, I had to learn everything.  Nothing came natural, many new skills had to be developed.  Not just the technical skills of working in office environments but the social skills of working with people who were clearly quite different from the circles I had spent all of my life in.  Most didn't know much about animals, or conservation, or travelling, or all the things that were part of my daily conversations I had in previous roles.  Conversations became about reality TV shows, kids, clothes and makeup, cafes to eat at......at times it was like another language. And yet here I am, fitting in to this new world as comfortably as a new pair of jeans.  A bit tight some days, but generally a god fit.  So if you don't mind, please stand clear.  This magic carpet is set to continue on its way.

Darwin, with regret....

Having left you beyond a far horizon I now realise that I judged you way too harshly and all too quickly.  I committed the greatest sin by comparing your new image to the one of which I first experienced.  From this inconsiderate stance, I chided you for changing over time passed.  I too had changed and this I knew, but still you accepted me with the decency you have constantly shown.  I understand now that you are the same gentle spirit I knew all those years ago.  You bear the same colours, the same warmth and the same pace.  You still paint the sunsets with brilliant colours and the stormy heavens with streaks of tropical gold lightning.  You still dance with the palm trees in the sultry breezes along the seashores.  Yet all I saw were the new changes, not what was still there.  I owe you an apology and one day I will return once more to reconcile.  For a creature who had hoped to live without the burden of regrets, I may just have collected my first one.   

"I'd rather regret the things I've done than regret the things I haven't done." - Lucillle Ball

The gilded path.

You know that moment at work when everything is going great and life can't get any better then unexpectedly it all seems to fall apart? You turn a corner on this high speed jaunt and suddenly there is a dead end and you are hit with a feeling of helplessness and loss of control, maybe even doom. Its at this point I have arrived. But with the lightening reflexes of a race car driver, I have come up with three options. One is to crash and disintegrate under the pressure of impact, something I have unwittingly done before. The next is to stop and reverse to whence I came negating any progress made.  Although why waste energy backtracking through life. Finally, to pull up gently and walk a different route to where I want to be.  So with options at hand, I have decided it is time to stretch my legs.  Time to breathe in deeply, absorb the spectacle of life surrounding me and head through the green fields.  Away from the paved road I had been on, and in these new lush surrounds, I will find my way once more. 

Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time. Thomas Edison

Creating new windows.

Is life without a television set possible? A house without a TV? I recall visiting elderly relatives as a child and finding they didn't have a televisions set. It was horrifying. I decided they must have been mean or at least senile, resulting in them being quite unaware, isolated and disconnected from the real world. No wonder I wasn't comfortable around them. It wasn't the age thing, or the lack of cream biscuits on offer, it was that without a TV they were obviously uneducated. Years passed by and television became a window to another world. I could travel, learn, laugh and be critical of all that passed on the screen. Life was televised and television became part of life. So when challenged with the logistics of moving overseas recently, it was planned that the TV would be last possession to be sold and the first new purchase upon arrival. As all good plans must do, this went very astray. Other things took priority, a lack of space kept purchases to a minimum and starting work absorbed any spare time. And yet I survived without this essential window to the world. I bought a newspaper every day which kept me informed of events. It was refreshing to not be bombarded with all the noise, movement and colour used in TV commercials to sell, sell, sell while learning about the days dramas. I joined the local library and learnt about ancient empires, travelling overseas and how to care for chickens all in one night. I took the dogs (and Phil) for walks on the beach and met the locals doing the same, and breathed in the clean air being swept in from the Pacific Ocean. It has all been so refreshing and sublime that I don’t want it to end. So, another mean or senile over 40 I may be but so much more aware and connected to the real world than I ever envisaged I could be. These new windows on the world are great.  You should get some.

What is a television apparatus to man, who has only to shut his eyes to see the most inaccessible regions of the seen and the never seen, who has only to imagine in order to pierce through walls and cause all the planetary Baghdads of his dreams to rise from the dust. - Salvador Dali (Spanish artist, 1904-1989)

A friend to guide me

And the journey begins.  Leaving Darwin posed a bittersweet uplift for my emotional energy.  After months of wondering what’s going to happen next, my anxiety levels had begun to escalate and unhinge my spirit.  Together with oppressive heat and high humidity, while living in some very basic accommodation, the end of my time in Darwin had become personified as a friend looming on the horizon, walking towards me with arms stretched out.  The last morning in Darwin was a surreal moment when I could finally embrace this friend.  As we held hands the journey began and it was this moment which provided the bittersweet element.  Looking into the past 10 months was enough to make me a little melancholy.  As we headed away from Darwin though, the sadness subsided.  As we ventured further and further south into the interior of Australia, the lush tropical vegetation gave way to an increasingly arid and dry landscape.  As the landscape became increasingly drier, it withered my tensions and I could feel the anxieties and worries falling by the way side.  With each sunset, a sense of greater closure was obtained.  With each sunrise a reinforcement of this grand new beginning.

We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths - Walt Disney

Life in Darwin

It’s amazing what affect environment can have on a person’s psyche.  I recently spent a week back in the realms of family and old friends in my hometown and it was gratifyingly refreshing.  The instant I stepped off the plane and back into a past life I felt comfortable.  Confident.  Sane.  I have struggled with my new surroundings of Darwin for a few weeks since leaving my job and searching for a different direction.  So many questions and doubts have swirled around me.  What to do from here?  Am I going to find something to keep me happy in Darwin? Should we have stayed in New Zealand?  Why won’t it rain when they say it will? I feel a little dazed with the amount of uncertainty that I am currently experiencing.  Having time off to do what I want when I want sounds great, but the reality is far different.  Carrying this sense of uncertainty around saps the energy and motivation out of me.  I feel very little inspiration to spend time doing the things I love –writing, mosaics, photography – and the heat destroys any enthusiasm to enjoy any outdoor activities – walking, gardening, bird watching.  Returning to cooler climes and friendly faces gave me feelings of delight and relief. Being in a place that felt familiar and welcoming gave me inspiration and foresight and a new found sense of clarity.  I think I know what needs to happen next.

When you don’t give up, you can not fail.

Something amiss?

Don’t get me wrong, I did miss Australia terribly when I was living in New Zealand.  I often wrote of my desire to hear the morning chorus of native parrots, the aroma of eucalyptus and the vast open skies.  I longed for the fierce displays of native flowers and the butterflies that danced around them.  I missed the kangaroos observing silently as people went about their lives in the countryside and the snakes and goannas not afraid to live in the company of humans.  And now I have all of this, and more.  So why do I feel there is still something missing?  Something that I left behind in New Zealand.  Is it a case of the grass is always greener on the other side meaning no matter where I am, I will always be looking for new grass to stretch out on?  Maybe I am simply not appreciating what I have when I have it and for some reason feel things were always better in the past or will be better in the future? I have always been the sort of person that moves from one adventure to another and often wishes for the next one to start as soon as the current one begins.  A lack of patience some might say.  Or not stopping to enjoy the moment I am in because I am thinking too much about the moments passed and the ones yet to come. 

So, where does that leave me?  I have the realisation of what I feel is senseless, almost offensive, and yet I continue to hold on to it.  Is this which drives me from one adventure to the next and maybe without that deep seeded feeling, I would fall to the ground and hold tight for fear of change? Perhaps it is the motivator for all things I do, but I am letting it get too much control over my choices?  Whatever the answer to my searching queries, the impact will be the same.  Get up, shake yourself down and look at where you are.  Every moment is fleeting so enjoy the experiences they bring through your heart and live life with the spirit of contentment.   What I am feeling is not to be ashamed of or changed for it is part of my psyche, of what makes me ‘me’.  Why would anyone, let alone myself, want to change that?

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Well, this is embarrassing!  So long and not a word from me.  It is unforgivable.
So what happened? I am not sure myself really.  Life was going along great, I thought I was settling in with a new groove and nothing was out of my reach.  It's easy how the brain can convince the soul that all is well, when really there is a monster lurking in the shadows of your mind.  But a milestone has been reached, the monster destroyed and I'm starting to feel groovy once more.  Lets get re-acquainted.

Tomorrow is fresh, with no mistakes in it.  ~L.M. Montgomery

be careful what you wish for...

There is an old English proverb which was used as a central theme for a short horror story in 1902.  The Author was W.W.Jacobs and the tale was titled ‘The Monkeys’ Paw’.  It is an early exemplification of the proverb - "be careful what you wish for, lest it come true".

It is too easy to wish we had more of some things, less of others, different jobs, better pay, more hair, less weight, new city, more time and so on.  Seldom do we reflect on what we already have and consider that if we didn’t currently have these things, would they also be on the wish list?  We don’t ask ourselves the questions that we really should – do we truly need what we don’t have and is wishing for it simply creating useless worry and a sense of loss for what we will probably never have?  And what if one of these wishes does eventuate, are we genuinely prepared for the changes and possible disruptions that will follow?  It is human nature to want for more; it is not human nature to think about consequences.  At least not this human.

The richest man is not he who has the most, but he who needs the least.—Unknown Author

Time.

In some ways it feels like I have been in New Zealand forever.  Then I think about events passed, and it seems like I arrived last week.  It’s curious how the mind doesn’t give an accurate perception of time.  Time is only relevant when you look at your watch or at a calendar.  The concept is lost without a visual object that measures it, defines it or gives it a framework.  Without these time defining objects, time becomes meaningless.  What happened a year ago could have happened 5 years ago or it could have happened last week.  Once it is a memory, it is relegated to the past regardless how far gone that past it.  Time, as a concept, is irrelevant.

So what about the future?  For me, what’s planned for next week is just as imperceptible as what is planned for next year.  It is something yet to occur.  It’s only when I define the occurrence of the event with a measurement of time that I get a sense of it being near or far in to the future.  This gives me great comfort as I look around me now, not having yet left New Zealand but already craving to return.  This maybe won’t occur for a while yet, though by not letting a unit of time define this plan to return I get a sense that my return is just as imminent as my upcoming departure.  It’s all in the future and this eases my current sadness.  A little. 

....gone.....

The last day of work came and went.  Two more days have since passed and it already seems so long ago.  The tears have dried leaving a sad and empty feeling inside.  This is planned to be a thrilling and fun time, getting ready for the next big adventure of this crazy road show.  I could fake it, pretend that I’m not sad, that I am actually looking forward to leaving everything and everyone behind. Yet, just the thought of doing so makes that empty feeling inside become greater.

Going, going…….

A week has passed quickly, now leaving less than two weeks before our departure.  The less time we have, the faster it goes.  We don’t have much left to organise or pack, so I will be trying to enjoy this time peacefully.  Enjoy the crisp autumn mornings, the cool fog hugging the countryside waiting for the warmth of the sun to awaken it and give it life.  Slowly watch it rise and clear the view to reveal the artistic landscape that I have become so fond of.

I do have few familiar feelings resurfacing from the period when we were preparing to move to New Zealand.  The sense that time is now in control, that my world is getting smaller and things are changing.  All feelings captured in some of my earlier posts, in September and October 2008.  So long ago.

Must go for now, the fog is waking and commands my attention.

“Without new experiences, something inside of us sleeps. The sleeper must awaken.” – Frank Herbert, author (1920-1986)

Leaving.

In less than three weeks’ time, we will be moving back to Australia.  Our one year adventure quickly grew in to more than the three years it has ended up being.  I thought this imminent departure would surely be an exciting time, having made the decision to return to my beloved homeland to be embraced by its warmth once more.  Many months ago, the thought of returning would have generated all sorts of wistful emotions and immediate thoughts of what I miss so much about Australia.  Now, sitting three weeks out from the departure date, I can’t see any of these things.  My vision is impeded by all that is around me now and exactly how much of an amazing place New Zealand is.  It has been a generous home and we have been gifted with far more than deserved by the people we have met and the places we have visited.  I’m not sure how I am going to get through this.

The packing has been largely done.  There was none of the grand shedding of physical belongings which I found so exhilarating and liberating when packing to move over here.  We have accumulated little since arriving, but still it has been sad to discard even the most mundane of belongings.  I have never been so attached to a kettle in my life as I am right now to our current one. I recall purchasing it on our first shopping trip in our new country, along with an assortment of other household items.  The sense of new beginnings and unknown adventures became embodied in this kettle.  It has greeted me each morning, whispering the continuing promises of this new beginning and adventure.  It has been part of every visitor to this house, family and friends from Australia have benefited from its faithful presence.  As I gather it up, ready to be packed for selling, all of these thoughts go through my head; all of these memories are fighting to stay free and continue being remembered.  But as the box of items disappears down the road in the back of someone else’s vehicle, so to do the memories which are attached to them.  Like I said, I’m not sure how I am going to get through this.

I know I am going to be excited to be home in Australia, to catch up with family and friends, see the sights, the experience the heady smell of eucalyptus laden air again.  I know it is going to be great shopping for new cars, going through our storage shed of belongings and re-packing for Darwin.  I know it is going to be exhilarating to arrive in Darwin with its tropical climate, majestic palms, dramatic scenery and outstanding sunsets.  I know it.  I just don’t feel it.  Not while I can see all that I am leaving behind.

“Travel and change of place impart new vigor to the mind.” - Seneca (4BC-65D)

Dunedin Art Gallery taught me.....

Art should speak for itself.  That's what I think anyway.  As an art novice I have been lead to believe I was inept.  I was unable to look at art and start waxing lyrical about it, having it consume my consciousness as a result of bearing witness to its powers.  I didn’t comprehend the diminutive descriptions that galleries post next to their collection pieces explaining what the art is or what the artist is representing, communicating and embodying.  How is it those 7 paintings in a row, all white except for a small black dot in the centre of each, can get the label of ‘art’?  We have all had similar experiences when visiting galleries, or seeing the unveiling of a public sculpture or simply flicking through a magazine.  We have all at some stage gawked “that’s art?”

A recent visit to the Dunedin Art Gallery did change my life however.  Not because I saw a piece of art that captivated me and spoke to me.  There wasn’t a piece that epitomised my own conviction that a struggle between colours can mean a struggle between the sexes, or that smooth curves embody the changes in life stages experienced by the artist.  Blah, blah, blah, No.  The visit to Dunedin Art Gallery made me defiantly decide that I cannot be in a minority as someone who fails to understand the intricacies and intimacies of art.  I must be one of millions who are missing the fictitious ‘art’ gene.  There is no rational explanation for why many of the pieces were even held in the gallery.  They all had descriptions, but even they struggled to  make meaning to me.  Some even read like excuses, justifying why a wall of bright coloured oversized sequins with a fan blowing air on them is in an art gallery and not a circus tent or a child’s birthday party.  So, a sense of relief came over me as I left the building.  This ‘art’ did have a massive impact on me after all but I am sure it was not the way as the artist intended.  I will tell you about it next post……

Norway, land of inspiration.

I wrote a lot of poetry while working in Norway.  It was such a beautiful country with beautiful and down to earth people, that it was hard not be inspired and pensive about life.  None of it will ever be published in a greatest poems of all times style of book, but it was a relaxing and thought provoking way to spend some down time with myself. So , without fear of reprimand and ridicule here is one of my favourites.  This poem flowed from my mind one afternoon while sitting on the balcony in spring, looking down the long glaciated valley that I called home.  Green grass carpeting the fields along the valley, snow slowly melting on the peaks and a gentle breeze carrying butterflies to golden flowers everywhere.

As the sun descends to kiss the horizon

these thoughts come clearly to me 

through the spring mist.

There is no one beauty in the world, 

just one world which is beautiful.

By embracing new places and allowing no stagnation

we have the chance to see beauty around each new corner.

All that is required is to open our eyes

and look closely at what lays before us at any point in time.

Feel it move within our hearts, souls and minds.

If we walk with our eyes closed

we become lost in an obscurity

that shields the individual from what the purpose of living

really

is.

It is to challenge ourselves, to experience and to learn.

To win, to lose, to conquer, to concede.

But most importantly.....

to shine.

Living and loving.

I have lived and loved with so many people, and I feel so enriched by the experience.  The sad fact is that the majority of those people are now just faces in old photographs, addressed on crumpled bits of paper or names that are no longer known by my lips.  These are people I was close to and I assumed I always would be.  We laughed and sometimes cried, we share our lives for a brief moment in the grand spectrum of our mortal existence.  We seized the moment and made it ours, no thoughts for the future and certainly no mention of departing from each others presence.  The thought of our feelings changing or even dying, was unimaginable.  But the day always comes where we must move on physically as well as emotionally.  We part company and swear we will remain great friends by staying in touch.  And stay in touch we do.......for a while.  Then slowly, quietly, without warning, you suddenly realise what has happened.  They have become a personal statistic, another "Oh, I used to know him" or "I knew someone from there once".  What is worse, there is absolutely nothing that can be done about it.  It is a process of life over which the individual had no control. No matter how hard they try or how good their intentions are, the sad realisation of a friend becoming a memory will be a reoccurring event....for everyone.
So should we stop meeting people if we think there is a chance that we will get hurt by the experience?  I have had many great people who have passed in to and out of my life and most I will probably never see again.  That is a fact.  However it is also a fact that from each person I have gained a new idea, an enlightenment, a lesson or a experience.  I carry a small part of them now, each and every one of them.  If I had chosen to stop meeting new people for the fear of being hurt, I would not be where I am or who I am today.  If I stop now, I will never develop in to my full potential.  Life is not designed to be a lonely experience.  So as I sit here and look at the people around me, I can't help but become resigned to the fact that the pile of old photographs, the drawer of crumpled addresses and my memory bank of names, are all about to grow.  On the same hand though, as they grow, so am I.

Never enough.

When reflecting upon holidays past, I often find myself wishing I had enjoyed and appreciated the time more than what I remember doing.  I know it doesn’t make sense really.  In such cases, the perceived act of hindsight can become a curse.  Now here I sit, on the last day of a magnificent holiday to the heart of the New Zealand Alps and I can sense that thought looming again.  It is just waiting to flood my head with guilt as soon as I am back on home soil.  The longing to have created more fun and joy during this holiday has already begun to creep in to my head.  And it is this which now confuses me because I knew it would happen so I did try to amplify my experiences, thoughts and impressions.   I looked at every minute detail of the panoramas, so as to not miss a thing.  I breathed the alpine air deeply, filling my lungs with mountain freshness in the hope of remembering it better.  I ate glorious food with passion, using all my senses – the smells, the colours, the textures.  And yet, here I sit, wishing I had done more………..and so I learn, it just isn’t possible.  I just have to sit back and relax in this moment of tranquillity.

 “Once you have travelled, the voyage never ends, but is played out over and over again in the quiestest chambers. The mind can never break off from the journey.” – Pat Conroy

I love Julia Roberts.

I watched the Julia Roberts movie ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ on a recent flight.  It’s a colossal ‘chick flick’ if you are the sort of person who likes to categorise movies.  As bad as this may seem, I must admit this was not the first time I had seen it.  Keen to go to the movies some months ago, it was the best of a bad bunch to choose from.  In a cinema full of young females and old couples, I guessed there wasn’t going to be much violence or gratuitous sex in it.  It is, I learnt quickly, a woman’s journey to find herself and learning to open her mind to the world’s wisdom and love again.  With such a charming description I sense your eagerness to sprint out and obtain the DVD instantly.  Anyway, with some splendid cinematography, stunning landscapes and inspirational locations, somehow Julia Roberts portrayal of a self centred and manic woman, actually spoke to me in verse.  Not that I think I am any of those qualities, but her longing for contentment and answers in life is no different to mine, albeit slightly more exaggerated.  It’s what we all want really and anyone who tells me otherwise is a liar.  We may be happy now, I know I certainly am, but this shouldn’t stop us from wanting more of this feeling.  Once we stop wanting happiness and bliss, we will slowly begin to die inside.  Our souls will empty of passion, leaving a void that the universe itself could never fill.  It takes effort to keep our lives at a happy balance.  So despite my adoration of the ‘chick flick’ that even my most girly of female friends snigger at, it gives a good warm glow to my heart.  It reminds me to keep living, keep looking and embrace all opportunities and challenges that come my way.  Keep your eyes wide open. Life is generous. 

Beginnings are usually scary and endings are usually sad,but it's everything in between that makes it all worth living...

Each occasion I have journeyed to a Pacific island, I am struck by the simplicity and casual tempo of island life.  People’s lives appear to be uncluttered and unpretentious in the way the majority of the world’s societies lost a long time ago.  The ebb and flow of daily routines embrace much of what we would refer to as ‘down time’.  Periods of quiet interaction with fellow villagers or nature - clusters of men sitting beneath a huge Banyan Tree, women and children playing down at the river or individuals simply sitting on the beach surveying the waves as they harmoniously interact with each other.  It is a lifestyle I envy, devoid of modern anxieties and complication.  I wonder what they must think of the western style of living.  Do they think we are illogical or do they aspire to have some of what we have?  The nice car, money, electricity, running water?  Is the grass always greener on the other side?

"One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things."  Henry Miller