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)

Christchurch, a broken heart that will heal.

We went for a walk today around some areas of the Christchurch CBD which were damaged in the 2012 earthquake. What I mean is, we went for a walk today around the Christchurch CBD which was almost completely destroyed in the 2012 earthquake. That second version still doesn't exemplify the huge looses of buildings or sound remotely as graphic as the destruction that we saw. So instead, here a few photos.

End of Cashel Street Mall looking in to what used to be the CBD packed with tall office buildings, malls and businesses. Thats Phil standing in the middle of the photo.

An old theatre just south of the CBD.  Up close you can see the intricate carvings and masonry of the ceilings and walls.

A very familiar street scene.

A deserted mall. Many of the shops still had everything in them - food, clothes, coffee cups on the tables.  There was a hairdressers which even had all of the scissors and utensils on the counters.

Christ Church Cathedral waiting repairs.  Once the premier landmark of the city.

Nature is reclaiming what we can no longer use.

Hello New Zealand, we're back.

Leaving New Zealand to return to Australia in March of last year never felt quite right. Maybe we were forcing ourselves to go because we had declared from the onset that our time in New Zealand was finite and Australia is where we both wanted to live. Selling up and returning to our homeland was part of the original plan that we had set ourselves and consequently must be observed. So leave we did.

Now we have returned to New Zealand to live for a second time and it feels as if our year in Australia was merely a dream. Not even that, it was something I saw on television or maybe read about. Thinking about our time in Darwin stirs no emotional connection. It was a time and place so far removed from how I feel now that I can barely recognise the experience as one of my own. I love Australia, I really do. It will always be my home and I will miss its diverse and remarkable beauty, the family and friends that it nurtures and the opportunity that a future return is always possible. For now though, for today as I stand windswept on a wild beach and gaze towards precipitous mountain ranges that stretch far beyond any horizons, it feels great to be back. I await enthusiastically what the next stage of life has in store for me. I can’t help but smile.

Goodbye again.......for now......

And it has happened again.  My life has by some means been crammed in to a backpack and a few small boxes.  Everything I have done in my life, all the places I have been and the physical objects I have owned have been evaluated.  The result of this review has either been to discard or to cherish.  What remains is the skeleton of my 43 years of existence, the bones of adventure and travel, of study and work, of family and friends.  Through this process of assessment comes a recognisable awareness of freedom.  This act of disposal creates a sensation of newness.  Not emptiness.  Not abandonment. Not poverty.  Not loss.  Instead, one of profound joy as if standing on the tip of a mountain to tenderly touch the stars.

“Every fool knows you can't touch the stars, but it doesn't stop a wise man from trying.”

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