So I took my guitar And I threw down some chords And some words I could sing without shame And I soon had a song I played it around For some friends but they all said the same They said music’s for fools You should go back to school The future is prisons and math […]
‘the time has come to say fair’s fair
to pay the rent, to pay our share
the time has come, a fact’s a fact
it belongs to them, let’s give it back’
lyrics – midnight oil, beds are burning
As at 16:00 on Friday, 25 October 2019 the right of the public to clamber over this place came to an end in recognition of the reverence in which it is held by the indigenous people of Anangu.
Australia retains a firm hold on a part of me, her spirit locked down tight, forever, deep inside.
It is impossible to be indifferent concerning this continent of colour, contrast and contradiction. Much of this beautiful, desolate land remains unexplored by many who live there.
Perhaps one of the last places on earth that holds tight some of its oldest stories.
As a Deputy Secretary in the Australian Government, I was privileged to travel across this wide brown land, exploring places almost as far away from our urban environment as it is possible to be.
Maybe I will write more about that.
Uluru is not a rock.
It is an irrepressible force of nature.
A powerful psychic force that ensnares you from the moment you first see it whether from the air or up close and personal. There is a visceral thrumming in the air. A song from the past that captures your mind, your body, your soul.
Away from the inevitable tourist traps there is no sound. Only the whispers of the ancestors.
I am happy that this place has been given back to those whispering souls.
There are too few places left in the world that move us and re-connect us to our roots, to the essence of our humanity.
Imagine also, how much a boy from the Rossendale valley felt blessed when sharing a flight and snatched conversation with Peter Garret, lead singer with Midnight Oil, and then Minister for the Environment, Heritage and the Arts.
How do we sleep when our beds are burning?
It starts by smelling the smoke and doing something about it.
Images made in November 2009 with Nikon D70 and Nikkor 18-70mm f/3.5-4.5 DX lens
i’ll be there as soon as I can
but I’m busy mending broken
pieces of the life I had before
in a tight corner
do they toll for thee?
they also serve who only perch and wait
bound and confined
reach for the sky
will you still love me?
*all images made with nikon d700 with nikkor 200-500mm f/5.6 and 50mm f/1.4 lenses, developed in lightroom cc*
And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
Y ahora aquí está mi secreto, un secreto muy simple: solo con el corazón se puede ver correctamente; Lo que es esencial es invisible a los ojos
– Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, El Principito
So, do you think I saw with my heart?
Entonces, ¿crees que vi con mi corazón?
All photos made with Fujifilm X100F with fixed 23mm (35mmFX equivalent) lens
It is what you read when you don’t have to that determines what you will be when you can’t help it.
― Oscar Wilde
One of the advantages of being a frequent flyer is that it gives you precious time to concentrate on reading. And yes, I like to ignore the fact that many flights now offer the ‘benefit’ of in flight wifi. I prefer (vastly) the benefit of in flight disconnection from the world of work. It is (or was) one of the last few bastions of serenity and a place to hide from all those ‘whatsapp’ groups people seem to think aid communication at work. Don’t even get me started on that last one, it could become a post in itself and lead to unintended consequences.
Reading is one of the most precious gifts that we can give our children.
I remember when I was around about six years old that one of my favourite places of refuge was the ‘box room’ in my grandmother’s house in Rawtenstall. Actually, I think the box room had in fact been a place that my father was stored in as opposed to boxes but, no matter, it was a special place for me. It contained what at that age I felt to be an impressive library of books that opened up a whole world outside the (then) grim confines of Rawtenstall. The town’s buildings in those days were blackened with soot and the river that flowed behind my school stank of goodness knows what, concerns about pollution seemed a world away, and in many ways they were. The town at that stage was suffering from post industrial decline and its place in the world – defined by the dark satanic mills that once produced shoes and cotton for the Empire – was doubtful. And that is why those books were so important to me.
A few ripples. some rises and falls. But that’s it. Almost nothing. Nothing born of nothing.
– Haruki Murakami, Dance, Dance Dance
You only see what you want to see.
Only when you stop looking, stop searching, stop yearning.
Do you see, what lies in front of you.
Shot with Fujifim X100F, ripples added by nature herself.
The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.
The clue to this post is in the title, which is a clumsy attempt to wrap multiple concepts into a single pithy phrase.
Among my resolutions this year were to write and shoot more. Rather dismally I have failed to respond well to my own resolutions. This does of course make choosing next year’s resolutions so much easier, as I plan to have another go.
However, I am happy to report that I have read a lot this year. And I will write about that also. In due course, the fullness of time, and so on.
I have also travelled a great deal. A very great deal. And, that is also something I intend to write about on the same terms as above.
I am not comfortable with my personal carbon footprint this year. So, trees will need to be planted. Probably enough to stock a decent sized hillside.
What prompted this post was my need to share (other than on my FB page) my journey home.
this seat is mine mine, for the time it takes to cross, the desert to cross, from there to here, a part, of me is no longer mine lost with all the other parts, along, the way lost by all, those others, who said this seat, is mine