— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 27, 2020
Saturday, 27 June 2020
silos and the Milky Way...
Photographer Geoff Sharpe wrote, "This is one of the many painted silos that are popping up all over rural Australia. This is located at Sheep Hills in Victoria. https://t.co/BvavDyvxro pic.twitter.com/A2lTL6Pbde— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 27, 2020
impromptu 'dance'...
PASSING THOUGHT: Expect the unexpected... This morning, the couple pictured were walking by the sea... I thought I would capture them as they walked (from behind, but dominated by sea)... but then, this happened... like an impromptu 'dance' by the sea...So cute... pic.twitter.com/vKx7BstbVf— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 27, 2020
mystical, magical sanctuary...
like a mystical, magical sanctuary— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 27, 2020
where there is no map to guide you
only a feeling
of how to get there https://t.co/X4QjmLNq0Y
still unique...
PASSING THOUGHT: Spotted these two crested pigeons on the wire this morning on the Dromana foreshore... side by side but looking in opposite directions... I waited awhile to see if one turned...It didn't happen... Together but still unique... pic.twitter.com/8ZBCCExHsi— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 27, 2020
no 'go-go'...
PASSING THOUGHT: Life doesn't have to be all about 'go-go'. There can be excitement in wonder... the wonder of stillness and all the textures quietly blending... This image is of the sea and sand in Dromana this morning... pic.twitter.com/ndZCC60hW2— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 27, 2020
a passing gull...
NOTE: Interesting how the blue of the sea in this image is not the soft blue of the earlier one in the last post...The earlier one faces east, whereas this image is leaning to a westerly direction where there are a few smatterings of darker clouds...PASSING THOUGHT: I'm easily amused I think... I took this photo on my sea walk this morning...(blink too long + it's amazing what's missed)...And as I walked...that little gull kept right on swimming + bouncing along with the rippling waters...I felt we journeyed side by side... pic.twitter.com/MhlksQo7Qz— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 27, 2020
change direction...
PASSING THOUGHT: The colours of the morning changed...and so did my intentions...Grocery shopping still happened...But more importantly, I was lured to the sea again...dared to walk for longer than I did 2 days ago...It was the same walk...but not...The sea was calm + soft blue pic.twitter.com/ugGdfpIUAg— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 27, 2020
a world within worlds...
— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 26, 2020Books are far more than an escape...An escape implies running from... But rather, books are a running to... satisfying a yearning to know and feel and understand... a running to the deep mysteries of life...
ANOTHER NOTE TO SELF: I think it's time to read The Solitary Summer by Elizabeth von Arnim
how I survive...
***The following, brilliant article was written by Australian columnist and teacher, Tim Mallon. The article may have been penned 3 years ago, but it continues to be relevant... For me, it nails how I view the world ...not from an indifferent distance, but rather from an awareness, necessary for the mind's mental safety.
Meantime, the intimate treasures of life, the soul foods continue on...and it's these that I value the most...
They’re picking the grapes again dear reader. Out in yonder vineyards, below that beautiful curving crooked range, it’s harvest time out there.
And the way things come round again - the way life has a cycle.
Soon enough those sweet soft marbles will become wine, become part of the human story: civilising us, unifying us, perhaps even inducing us to a state of romantic readiness. Such is the power of the grape.
And I like the seasonal things of the world, like how the simple perennials of life continue discreetly, while the big mad stuff blunders brazenly across our screens and pages, the little intimacies persist …
We could, however, easily be excused of believing that nothing happens and matters in the world but misery and super-power cyber-hacking shenanigans, or what ‘the Donald’ tweeted, or that another politician claimed a work expense that wasn’t really a work expense.
But thankfully, there’s more, much more than all that. And it’s uncomplicated stuff and it’s right here and all around us.
Take summer reading for instance.
People reading books on back veranda chairs, in holiday tents, under shady trees and beach umbrellas, in bed and on the dunny too – it’s a sweet seasonal ritual that enriches and soothes the mind.
Yes, while Mr Putin was scheming in the Kremlin on how to subvert Hillary, in Maitland a young girl hired The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes from the library and dreamt of sleuthing and hounds and the red-headed league.
And down the road in the greatest bookstore of them all, a man purchased the novel Cloudstreet at McDonald’s, and the vividness and beauty of the words illuminated the dim corners of his own history. A novel containing sentences so wonderful, that at their completion, he could only sigh and smile and walk awhile, and think on how magnificent a thing it is to read a story about Australia and life back then...
And while Julian Assange has been unhappily ensconced in the Ecuadorian Embassy in London for 1673 days, and while the police and world have watched and forgotten and remembered the whole ordeal, at the Maitland Reading Cinema 32,879 choc tops have been happily licked and inhaled in the cool celluloid darkness.
An unremarkable but important statistic which points to how life goes on; how despite the bizarre madness of the world, we find simple ways to carry on, ways to live ...
And so it goes …
While organised crime rings were staging workshops on how to separate people from their funds, while cartels cartelled and Barons baronned, Maitland families took multiple hour Australian summer drives.
They saw the hot country fill up the windows, they sang and ate Minties and chips a played the ‘spotto’ game and ‘how many windmills can you see between Jindabyne and Cooma’.
And it’s a way of persevering, despite the horrors of the news, it’s our own harvest, our own grapes of living, and not wrath …
And so it goes.
Goodnight.
P.S. Perhaps Tim should publish a book of his stories including his Twitter moments... They are timeless...
NOTE TO SELF: I think it's time to read The Solitary Summer by Elizabeth von Arnim
Meantime, the intimate treasures of life, the soul foods continue on...and it's these that I value the most...
Grapes, choc tops, and the joy of a good book - January 18, 2017
- Tim Mallon Maitland MercuryThey’re picking the grapes again dear reader. Out in yonder vineyards, below that beautiful curving crooked range, it’s harvest time out there.
And the way things come round again - the way life has a cycle.
Soon enough those sweet soft marbles will become wine, become part of the human story: civilising us, unifying us, perhaps even inducing us to a state of romantic readiness. Such is the power of the grape.
And I like the seasonal things of the world, like how the simple perennials of life continue discreetly, while the big mad stuff blunders brazenly across our screens and pages, the little intimacies persist …
We could, however, easily be excused of believing that nothing happens and matters in the world but misery and super-power cyber-hacking shenanigans, or what ‘the Donald’ tweeted, or that another politician claimed a work expense that wasn’t really a work expense.
But thankfully, there’s more, much more than all that. And it’s uncomplicated stuff and it’s right here and all around us.
Take summer reading for instance.
People reading books on back veranda chairs, in holiday tents, under shady trees and beach umbrellas, in bed and on the dunny too – it’s a sweet seasonal ritual that enriches and soothes the mind.
Yes, while Mr Putin was scheming in the Kremlin on how to subvert Hillary, in Maitland a young girl hired The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes from the library and dreamt of sleuthing and hounds and the red-headed league.
And down the road in the greatest bookstore of them all, a man purchased the novel Cloudstreet at McDonald’s, and the vividness and beauty of the words illuminated the dim corners of his own history. A novel containing sentences so wonderful, that at their completion, he could only sigh and smile and walk awhile, and think on how magnificent a thing it is to read a story about Australia and life back then...
And while Julian Assange has been unhappily ensconced in the Ecuadorian Embassy in London for 1673 days, and while the police and world have watched and forgotten and remembered the whole ordeal, at the Maitland Reading Cinema 32,879 choc tops have been happily licked and inhaled in the cool celluloid darkness.
An unremarkable but important statistic which points to how life goes on; how despite the bizarre madness of the world, we find simple ways to carry on, ways to live ...
And so it goes …
While organised crime rings were staging workshops on how to separate people from their funds, while cartels cartelled and Barons baronned, Maitland families took multiple hour Australian summer drives.
They saw the hot country fill up the windows, they sang and ate Minties and chips a played the ‘spotto’ game and ‘how many windmills can you see between Jindabyne and Cooma’.
And it’s a way of persevering, despite the horrors of the news, it’s our own harvest, our own grapes of living, and not wrath …
And so it goes.
Goodnight.
P.S. Perhaps Tim should publish a book of his stories including his Twitter moments... They are timeless...
NOTE TO SELF: I think it's time to read The Solitary Summer by Elizabeth von Arnim
my day, a blank page...
Strange how, early morning, the possible events of the day stream through the mind...like a fast forward movie...PASSING THOUGHT: My day, a blank page, prefaced by the waking, rapidly changing colours of morning...I've noted that some grocery shopping must be done but I am thinking of reading 'The Fig Tree' by Arnold Zable... stories of wanderers...And morning colours are still changing... pic.twitter.com/NtJZerEGBt— Gemma Wiseman (@AuraGem) June 26, 2020
the night is deepening...
Last night....my night deepened quite early...for me, 9:30pm...Sleep insistently beckoned...tired from doing the little things...cleaning window ledges...shaking out the rug...sweeping leaves...Those little things matter to me because they keep my world comfortable and clear, so I can focus on important writing and dreaming...The night is deepening.— Tim Mallon (@PatMalo85776814) June 26, 2020
It thickens and becomes less talkative.
It compels the street to sleep, like the swinging watch of the hypnotist.
It does this every day.
But in the cold gumtree hills, the animals are awake, quivering with life.
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