New Years Resolve

I have been lapse in my attention to this idea of blogging my thoughts... well new years resolve pits me firmly into keeping a closer eye on observing my surroundings and thinking a lot more about things.

I will eventually add my Japan thoughts, I did write a diary of kinds on my travelling companions computer but have yet to chase them about sending it back to me... I shall look to that soon though.

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Fireworks, this year a trek back to Observatory Hill to settle picnic rugs amongst the heaving throngs already thick in the early afternoon with people already half drunk.

Despite the mess and chaos of a lot of sydneysiders getting drunk on a hill I did relish the atmosphere it created, all together sharing something, stepping out of our daily lives. It is entertaining too watching others such as the guys building their totem poles out of beer cans or the girl in a tight cornflower blue dress dancing with wild abandon whilst sipping passion pop straight from the bottle.

Lying down with the sun on my back listening to the sounds of heat, that distinctive thrum of cicada legs that conjures up heat just as much as the suns rays stroking my legs do. The sound of it is vivid in my eardrums memory, the contentment of that moment where heat and sound matched in perfect harmony of a perfect summer moment.

I love the beauty of the crackers... the trails of smoke creating patterns in the sky or the smudge of gold from a delicate spray. Others dripping like silver lights slowly drifting down to the ocean. The usual big sparkling bangs including blue cornflowers stabbing out into the sky, apparently a first this year in pyro technology (the blue as opposed to the pattern)

I love the way the city is transformed by a night of fireworks. How the skyline shifts and changes, the way the city is all gathered round together on itself all admiring its own beauty together...

Then transformations of a different kind. The way the firecrackers on the bridge were lost amongst the smoke, sparks just ducking out of the cloud before vanishing again. By the end of the display there wasn't even a bridge any more, just an ashy hazey cloud as though it had been smudged out, erased and the city no longer had a bridge.

There is the movements together... the flotilla of boats with their lights all heading back into the harbour in a fleet of all shapes and sizes, all shuffling back to their ports together... the human flotilla walking through the streets, past the lines of cars waiting to be let loose across a reopened bridge, how the little line of buses were the first across at 1 am shuffling over in a long zooming line, the cars still penned in behind the parked cop cars. Down along George street where the usual parade of cars is replaced by a parade of people all moving along together in the same direction but not in the bad way that disaster movies speak of (yet visually not so disparate an image). Past the ivy the sounds thumped out, on the street below it felt like you had your ear pressed against a heaving sound systems stereo of their after party for the glitterati party set. The sound was a wonder, a small thrill on the journey home.

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New Years day - accompany a friend to Buddhist temple in Wollongong. Nice drive down along coast road and offer a few prayers and make resolutions for the new year.

More cicada symphonys, the sound heavy and strong through the tall trunks of the steep winding road down through the National Park, the air humid but not quite unpleasant yet.

Moments to settle into yourself and make a vow more to yourself than to a god or a buddha... Standard prayers suggested include, peace, prosperity, serenity and fulfilled wishes.

Which leads me to think that:

I prefer the concept of Serenity over Peace.

To my mind peace is too tightly bound up with notions of warfare. It is about ceasing to struggle, to just sit and breathe instead, it is not fighting anything but just accepting.

Serenity captures something beyond that point, a beauty and deep understanding of your surroundings, it is more about opening your arms up to a love of things rather than retreating away from it. Serenity is not necessarily sitting back on your haunches but it flowers outwards to embrace life and be part of it. It is not the opposite of war but is its own concept. A deep flowing river rather than a turned off tap.

... a final thought then.... admiring the serenity of the ducks on the pond pushing their way amongst the lilypads and lotus leaves, gently making their way through the dense greenery to forage for insects and cool off amongst the shade of the pools tranquility.

Packing whatever the weather

I sit at the edge of my suitcase and wonder whether I have packed anything at all that will be suitable... After all who knows what the weather will be like... cool but how cool? 

Given the weather turns here, a boiling hot summers on Thursday twisting round into a sudden dance with bitter cold winters breath on Saturday a mere two days later... 

Well it leaves me wondering whether to pack another jumper or save the space for things I plan on bringing back, like newer trendier clothes and stuff for the house, some nice earthy soup bowls for instance. I'm not really a fan of shopping but last time I spent a few days in Japans I suddenly got shopping eyes and just really took to looking at all the stuff you just don't see here. 

Anyway all this is really a rambling way to say I shall be on a brief hiatus as I step through the moss gardens of Kyoto and Tokyo. 

Tower of Wind

Today was hot and muggy, still lifeless heat. The sun dragged down on you, adding weights to my shuffling feet as they struggled to work out what to eat for lunch on such a day. 

Still no swimming, tonight was a race to the theatre to catch a play before dinner, a sociable night full of conversation with friends. 

Walking home it was still hot and motionless, the heat not retreating in the face of the darkened night. And then just as I thought the days fatigue would surely drag me down there came that magical moment as I went down the last little incline to my building, that cooling whip of fierce wind, that pocket of weather unique to my apartment block that just catches the tiniest fragment of wind around and whips it round and round in circles. 

It is so magically cooling and reviving, a true wonder indeed. I am indeed a million miles away from the rest of  the city

Adrift on a Sea of Stress

I lie down in my bed and close my eyes and suddenly I am awash at sea, the strong stench of seaweed drifts through the window and sweeps over my nostrils, dragging my senses down to the bottom of the ocean. I have become a sailor tugging at the mossy ropes of the anchor chains, condemned to a life of boiled spinach slopped out onto plates. 

No not condemned, rather I have been freed in some way, I can dive into the deepest ocean with no need for breath. My mind finally clears away the stress of the day. I may have missed my evening swim today with great pangs of regret but I finally found myself floating along on my back in that moment. 

(Content disclosure: the next paragraph contains much dreary dribbly ranting so feel free to skip to the last more solitary sentence) 

You see there is only so much work you can physically do by COB and putting more infront of me isn't helping me get through the other stuff that's so urgently needed. And as for the whole preparing for the O/S trip... there is only so long you can look through the same small one bedroom apartment for a wad of Japanese Yen without going completely and utterly bonkers scratching the walls down. Yes I looked everywhere a million times, desperately tearing at the same spots on the bookshelf, table, drawers, boxes of papers etcetera etcetera... yes I looked in the biscuit jar, the tagine pot and even within the cases of the dvds and amongst the rolls of spare toilet paper and laundry powder. Yes it was finally found close to midnight and yet with all that built up angst no cup of tea, glass of red wine or soothing piece of classical music will cut it. A random track on the ipod provided a little relief with a mind numbing dance track that put some groove back into me and enabled me to finally stumble into a shower and to bed... 

I promise not to rant on and bumble about such boring things much more here, this is meant to be a forum for my more pondered thoughts rather than stressed out ramblings... 

... and so I close my eyes and return to the ocean ... 

When the desert came to town...

The desert came to the city, its sands forming dunes across the pedestrian crossings, bathing skyscrapers in the deep orange dust of the country's heartland. 

All those prancing city fwd's splattered in dust, the car smiling at its new coat, yet inwardly sighing that it never did get a genuine run out across rocky crags. 

The dawn was painted in the hues of the bushfire, thick smoggy clouds shot through with the intense colours of the sun. No ash though, it was just a passing town called Alice...

And I running my fingers through the ochre on the window sill, breathing in its rusty flavour. I loved every minute of it, so beautiful and rich and such a rare treat amongst the shadows of the city skyline in which I dwell.