Tag Archives: King’s Canyon

It’s The Journey That Matters – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Destination – VJs Weekly Challenge


Photo: After Kings Canyon, the road out to the West MacDonnell Ranges stretches out.

There’s an old Sufi aphorism or proverb where a stable master goes to town for his master, only to be met by the figure of death at the markets “Tomorrow we meet and I will take you.” The man rides home and asks his master for a team of horses that he might ride to the ends of the realm. His request is granted. And he furiously rides to the end of the realm, and as he enters the markets, Death steps out, and says: “I told you I’d meet you today!” There are a number of these stories, some embellished, or like this one – my paraphrase, and from different traditions. But the point is made, It’s not the destination that matters. You can go to the corners of the earth and yet you are still you, and life goes on, it’s the journey that matters and facing oneself.


It’s The Journey That Matters

We never really arrive,
and the destination is never the destination
we think it is,
or, at the very least,
the landscape of everything is not what we expected,
only the people and places along the way,
help us truly arrive at ourselves with understanding.
It’s the journey that matters,
the journey to me,
with standard deviations,
rabbit holes and tea parties,
haring about,
crying and laughing,
loving and not loving,
skipping along,
grief or whimsey,
arriving and departing,
sometimes too soon.
Destinations can only be seen
through the eyes
of lived experiences,
as constantly never arriving,
and yet always arriving,
as we embrace the journey
in all its unplanned mayhem.

©Paul Vincent Cannon


Paul, pvcann.com


Filed under Free Verse, poem


Energetic – Word of the Day


The creek line along the outer wall of King’s Canyon.

Elegy For Mother

I stopped on the rise
where the trail opens to a valley,
and sat for a while admiring your view.
I took off my shoes and savoured your sand,
ran my hands down your powdery skin,
stretched my arms out in praise,
breathing you in,
taking you in memory,
sacred memory.
Purified in your creeks,
fuelled by your self-offering,
I reflect this on your paper,
in my electronica chic,
mineral products so smooth.
All that you are is
all that I am,
and all that I have.
Yet, though I valliantly try,
I have left you
like a football I once kicked,
burst and rent.
Kyoto a faded vow,
my lust has consumed you
your energy spent
feeding mine.
And more than admiration,
or the faithlessness of plattitudes,
Sacred Mother,
you need a hand.

©Paul Cannon





Filed under bush walking, Elegy, environment, Forest, life, mindfulness, nature, poetry, Spirituality


via Daily Prompt: Wrinkle


A rock face along one side of Kings Canyon. Wrinkled, weathered sandstone. The cause? Rain, wind and sun. Not unlike skin weathering from the same sources. In the millennia past it was moving water, a river or two, a lake, that weathered these rocks in the Katarrka National Park.


And from the same section, rippled sandstone reflecting the movement of wind and water across the surface of the rock.

In high school I had an art teacher who decided to show us the power of water. He rigged up a large plastic bottle and placed opal in it, and hooked up a belt and motor to turn the bottle, which also had sand and water in it. Over a year there was some change in the rock, it was smoother, the water and sand had begun to have an affect. Which reminds me of a Japanese saying: “In the struggle between the stone and water, in time the water wins.” But the rock is not destroyed, it is transformed, Transformed in to sand, pebbles, and rocks.

Our bodies take a hammering from the elements, just like the rock. I like to think that our bodies are well worn rock, where the rock has begun to smooth off and yet not lose its strength or character. In fact, as we age, I think we gain more strength and character. In this way rock and water are in parnership, and change results. Our wrinkles, both the outward and the inner ones, are the result of the forces of wear and pressure, they reflect a life lived. It’s the inner ones, the psychological scars that last the longest, and take time to be transfomed, but they are as and when we let our inner self be exposed to the forces of transformation.





Filed under bush walking, environment, history, life, nature


via Daily Prompt: Gingerly

2014-07-26 19.32.57.jpg

We walked gingerly around the lip of kings Canyon, one slip and ….! And someone did die in 2013, slipping off the edge. Heights make me dizzy at the best of times, but here it seemed more dramatic, so we stayed back. Aparently people like to be photographed sitting on the edge, of with their backs to the canyon, or leaning in, but sandstone is notorious for sheering off, and is genuinely unpredicatable. So, gingerly we skirted the edge.




Filed under bush walking, Country, nature



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It was a beautiful walk up and around Kings Canyon (Kings Canyon Rim Walk). Kings Canyon is in the Watarrka National Park (Northern Territory). It certainly needed more than a bit of moxie for me to get near the edge. The previous year, sadly,  a young woman had fallen to her death off this very ledge, so it is a risk. Nerve wracking ledge, fantastic view. Amazing how fear and amazement, death and beauty sometimes pair off.



Filed under nature