via Daily Prompt: Trace
The Bibbulmun Track is Western Australia’s premier walk trail, running from Kalamunda to Albany (1, 003.1 kms). Above is one of the many shelters interpsersed on the track for overnighting. The principle rule on the track is that walkers should leave no trace of themselves. So you take out what you take in, nothing is left behind, or as the guide book says, “Pack it in pack it out.” Serious track walkers travel light so this is not usually a problem.
via Daily Prompt: Buff
This Ford V8 is pretty buff.
via Daily Prompt: Detonate
Detonation runs in the family. My father had a short fuse and he would regularly explode, which was ironic because his training in the early 1950s was as a Shotfirer in a coal mine. Doubly explosive. Dad knew the various combustible elements, liquid and solid. He had used Kero lamps and heaters for years. So, when he filled a kero heater tank with petrol, as a child I never thought about it. We were all outside, and my aunt arrived for her weekly visit. She smelt the petrol and flew into action and threw sand on the heater and saved the day. I was confused as to why this had happened. I know its only speculation, but I now suspect he was trying to burn the house down, because there’s no way he could not know the consequences.
Doubly explosive, just like two white dwarf planets drawing together and becoming a supernova, kapow!
via Daily Prompt: Radiate
When I encounter this word it takes me right back to 97 and the realease of Malibu by Hole and the haunting voice of Courtney Love. Do you remember that refrain? “I can’t be near you, the light just radiates.” It stuck in my head. And I’ve met people like that, people who radiate, they stay with me too.
via Daily Prompt: Infuse
I love sunrise and sunset simply because I love the infusion of colour.
via Daily Prompt: Reprieve
That gate at Auschwitz 1, Arbeit Macht Frei – Work Makes You Free. But it didn’t, work was death, it was the act of dying, For Poles, Jews, Gypsys, metally ill people, gays, and others, the work was death. There was no reprieve from fear, starvation, malnutrition, ridicule, punishment, torture, experimentation, dehumanisation, murder by any means including the gas chamber. There was no reprieve.
And have we learned? I think not. I weep for others since: for the Jews murdered in camps under Stalin, for Nanking, the killing fields of Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge, for Srebrenica, Rwanda, Syria, there has been no reprieve from killing, because there is no reprieve from the faulty thinking that gives rise to the pathologies of nationalism, patriotism, flags, boundaries and the notion of ownership.
And then I think of the violence we all do, the hurt we bring to others in our lives, the violence we bring to nature. It reminds me that as I weep I am both agressor and victim, and nothing changes till I too change.
via Daily Prompt: Survive
In the midst of this limestone formation, at the top of a cliff overlooking the Southern Ocean, in the D’Entrecasteaux National Park near a place called Windy Harbour (Northcliffe), is this wonderful sign of life. I wasn’t able to identify it, suffice to say that it is a native coastal shrub. It is a seedling that has begun life in the tiny amount of soil that has collected in the hollow of this formation, facing strong gusty winds, salty air and water, and a hot summer. Yet there it is, a survivor.
via Photo Challenge: Evanescent
I love rainbows, as a child I was enthralled with them, and I continue to be, partly because they are so fleeting, they are gone before you’ve had time to enjoy them, they were a mystery and I could imaginatively play with them. This day was no exception, I was just fortunate to be able to snap this one quickly, and it was a complete rainbow. Though the intensity of the colour is lost i still have captured the memory. It probably lasted less than four minutes in real time.
via Daily Prompt: Impression
That line from the song by Shania Twain , which often comes up in our house, “That don’t impres me much” comes to mind. I’m not easily impressed.
Yet nature leaves a deep impression on me. As my son Hayden is wont to say, nature is a (his) cathedral. There is a sense of the divine in what lives and breathes, in what is solid, or in what moves, in majestic forests and expanses of water, earth that is wet or dry (the smell, ah, the smell), in the power of storms, and yet just a drop of water on a petal can move me too. I feel at home at a party, but I am more myself in the bush. I can be present and mindful anywhere, yet I feel free in the bush.
Nature doesn’t war, it isn’t jealous, deceitful, or hateful. Nature is, even in death, life giving.
Nature leaves a deep impression on me.
via Daily Prompt: Catapult
I wonder if you’ve ever been thrust into something, a role, a responsibility, the limelight? Catapult means to be put out, forward, downwards, as if against one’s will. Some of you will resonate with that. So, you will get comments like, “He was catapulted out of Sydney at 20 …” (https://whiteleythefilm.com.au) a line referring to the artist Brett Whiteley’s journey to fame as a very young artist.
To catapult also means to take aim, and to fling an object forward. With the medieval siege catapults (trebuchet) it wasn’t so much a fine art as the quantity of rock you flung at your enemy. Whiteley had no control over his fame, he took aim and lived with what eventuated, and it was a rough ride indeed. His life was his work and he threw everything at it and fame came unplanned, though certainly not unwelcome.
Author Thomas Moore in his wonderful book “A Life at Work”, speaks of how we die inside when fail to honour our creative passions, our deep sense of calling, and the things that draw us to a particular way or activity.
Sometimes you just have to take aim, and allow yourself to be flung in a direction and see what eventuates, without worrying.