Every image has a story
Reaching out, pulling, pushing, driving, seeking. The tendrils of emotion writhing and squirming in patterns balanced by their opposition. Cradled, guided, caressed and carried toward their goal. But question the goal you must and feel the movement of the current and see where it may end.
Feeling strength and weakness in all that stretch, shrink, collide and separate, that burn and calm the racing of the heart.
Bark, bitch, boss, ball, bend between rydem.
Still, stand, sting, style, stow away heaven
Cling, claim, court, catch, came believe a friend
Fame, foot, fate, face, full nature is d’same
Run away with all thoughts alive, repeat and fail again
Thought find nothing high, nothing to explain
Now go, go surprise yourself full force wit and will.
And stand beneath the tree and claim your blessing to nature’s thrill.
We will take it back…
Stolen from Alan Watts… people used to create words to describe things, now we learn the words to things before ever experiencing the thing.
But here I can’t think of a word to describe the image. Nature has collided together water, rock, tree, earth, lake, light. It’s all there mashed up together, sucked into a single focal point. Makes me want to bite it.
But maybe better there is no word, maybe it’s better to bite it.
All is one and one is all and moments live and die in the spark of continuous movement. But footprints leave behind stories of connections that live as long as they are still told.
I have thoughts of things that I would like to do, the thoughts make my body feel a certain way a physical reaction to the imaginary scene.
Then sometimes I live out those experiences and try and capture the moment, either with a photograph or with a print upon my mind.
How many times does the body feel the same in the moment of the experience in comparison to the dream? I am not sure it is ever the same.
But after when I look back, the experience and body’s reaction seem to fit back into the dream. The story you tell about the experience is explained with words you learnt to think before you actually lived out the thing.
But how did the body really feel? how was it in the now? how did you feel with the fire upon your face, to look at the stars and let the mind race. To be lost among your thoughts, to drift and die and conclude naught. Just sit and feel and lie awake to let nature consume, devour, sedate.
I woke up early, but wanted to sleep more. My body was tired from the walk. I felt like I wanted to go again, to hike up the hill and try hard, but another part of me thought it would be better to rest.
Then the mind started to tick remembering last night and that smile. It was okay, the beers and the laughter, although slowing me down was worth it, just to see her bounce around.
I rolled over to the cold side of the pillow, a little laughter emerged from my heart. I was stuck again, what would come out of this new turn?
After you see the cat with the third eye you know that life is going to be a little different, how you are probably never sure, but for certain there will be a change.
It’s difficult to work out how much to take from the things you have seen, how much the clues from mother nature are of value to your choices, but there has to be something in it. The energy you take from pacha-mamma must affect you in some way, like the sun for plants, for every action there is a re-action, all the cliches.
Difficult to say, but the cat was beautiful that’s for sure and there seemed to be a clarity to the shapes and colours with current thoughts. I suppose you take a little of this and a little of that and hope you have the right balance.
Heads turn, they turn all the time, but only towards the shiny things. Follow the sun.
Sometimes I have to tell myself to look around, to stop and appreciate what’s around me. But most of the time I just stare at the rock. It’s hard to look around when your focus is elsewhere. But one day I will, it will probably be too late and I will have missed the chance of a good view, but I promise myself, when I am old and can’t climb as much, I will stop to look around.
Despite promising himself the time to look around was going to be later, Matty was surprised. He was up early at the top of the cliff, he and his climbing partner James had stayed the night on the rocks and were preparing to continue their assent. Dawn was breaking and the light was blue. Matty turned to look at the pitches below him, to seek out the valley floor, but his view was interrupted by the clouds marching in below him.
The valley quickly filled and Matty nudged his mate to wake him. James opened his eyes slowly, sat up on the ledge and let his sleepy eyes dance across the bed of clouds.
‘Wow’ he announced, ‘That’s pretty fuckin cool’.
The two climbers sat in silence breathing in the air letting nature show off in front of them.
Two hours later and the boys were climbing again, making their final push to the top of the cliff, as Matty sat in his harness belaying his friend he thought back to the morning clouds and the excitement they had inspired. Taking his eyes off the rock face he looked to the sky. Above him Vultures circled flying down to his level, swooping below him and then in wide arcs returning up, out of the valley into the clear blue sky. It was a beautiful sound as they passed, huge wings beating slowly, majestically, Matty could almost feel the air they pushed in his direction. He smiled to himself. He smiled back at mother nature.
‘Safe’ James called. The signal that he was secure at the anchor of the pitch. It was his turn to climb.
Life From the Dirt 