As I write life floats past, broad brushstrokes that define each moment, every thought and the momentary glimpses of the beauty. It seems my journey of movement through the world has found its end in the tropical heat and wild weather I was born for. One of the northernmost parts of Australia.
It's been a wonderful journey of discovery, movement and knowledge..and now it's time for a foray into the world of thought and theory. Time to define the notions and ideas I've had over the years into something more concrete...a time for study.
Thanks for sharing my scattered thoughts as I've walked through cultures, travelled on the trucks of love through landscapes vastly different to my own.
Thanks for listening and understanding. I hope to one day soon have more stories to share. But for now, it's time for a different kind of life, one focused on reading, learning and studying about the world..
Three years of it!
Life winding, winding up, in this city, many years and the same winding roads leading me home. The big bricks of Brisbane are changing and new development has emerged, but the heart of the city remains the same. Staggering art-itechtural wonders, bizarre concept bridges, big, better gliding buses...and surprise surprise..more more more rules and regulations, white lines splitting the street, naysayers and conformity enforcers.
I feel this city doesn't reflect me anymore, in the sheer walls of glass and the grey concrete, I see less and less of myself. More and more of commerce that leads us forward..to where? I wonder about the disconnection, I really do.
And yet...
Yesterday I went clippity clopping in the city. My boots make a nice round sound on cement, and as I passed a fellow femanimal, my clop clips fell into beat with hers..I walked closely to her for a while, and could see she became increasingly uncomfortable, I noticed she purposefully tried to put her beats out of synch with mine, without success.
'A researcher hiding in an abandoned car once filmed children playing in a school ground at lunch hour. Screaming, laughing, running and jumping they all seemed superficially to be doing their own thing, yet careful analysis showed that the group was rocking to a unified beat. After some searching, the researchers found a tune that fit the silent cadence, and when they played it and rolled the film, it seemed as if each kid were dancing to the melody even though there had been no music playing in the schoolyard!'
So, are we connected..something within unifies us, makes us groove to the same beat of life, an unconscious undercurrent ties groups together and even in our most casual moments we pulse in sychrony. It's a feeling that makes me feel alright as I navigate the flow of energy, visible and otherwise, of this jagged, concrete place I call home.
'Almost every reality you 'know' at any given second is a mere ghost held in reality'....
Vision, self doubt, "see" and "hear"...what makes you so sure they exist? Given the power and subtleties of our culture, our system, our mental mind makers..the learning devices our societies create..what makes you more than an effective learning machine?
The peer pressure, phony proponents, unrealistic stings of unreality, social cues and the compulsion to go along with the herd are far more valuable pressures than we think they are...so how are we natural? how are we free?
It's been said we are a beach complete with shifting sands and dunes...'After all what is our reality anyway? Nothin' but a collective hunch'..as Lily says.
I'm a beach.
i'm the metaphor at hand, a mismatched time honoured clock of misperception. I'm hypersensitive, bound by the norms with crowds of silent voices whispering in my ears full of indescision and misunderstanding...
the influence of the mob gone before..
I'm the fall guy of generations of mistakes
the crowing of a crowd
long bent and wasted, crowding in the collective mind
trick me and tell me it was a white car speeding by a blue house and maybe i'll say...um, yeah, it was going pretty fast..
and yet, I'm touching the void here
balancing out, aiming to avoid pleasing
almost...maybe not this generation..but maybe the next
maybe
As I write life floats past, broad brushstrokes that define each moment, every thought and the momentary glimpses of the beauty. It seems my journey of movement through the world has found its end in the tropical heat and wild weather I was born for. One of the northernmost parts of Australia.
