you walk on the bottom of the ocean
topo-graphics at times lush erstwhile dry
inverted to the sky
The 23rd to the 27th slithered past in days (and nights) of dense heat’n’humidity, performance, car-travel, friend/family/baby/child visiting and then slowly realizing the at times costly reality of DIY sans touring manager.
This land-mass is hard to leave and not just because the energetic chords emanating from Country and creatures have taken chunks of my heart.
Oz is hard to leave because the time-space I put myself in places me squarely in cyclone season, with pirates around the corner, sold-out cruises and a contract with a cargo company that cannot be rescinded.
'round about now, more will be done when not striving
notice (timelessness of) waves eroding sandstone
by the time i missed you (almost become lofty and exalted, like your name-sake)
plenitude had been found (incense ash being cast, cadigal people and workyard scalpings having been witnessed)
i let go of a lot (i am light/needle puncture/featherbone boning)
Today (well, yesterday by some clocks), on the train to Sydney, I watched the curve of the Earth undulate past in between gulping down the pages of "Trickster Makes this World".
It was a dry dry dry dry dust bowl coat that the fields wore (woe to the sheep farmer and the stacker of sheaves).
My perspective and horizon will always be cut by Landscape; the narratives informing the Anthropocene are complex.
yesterday, the 19th (oh darn, the minute just ticked over making this post two days late by some calendars)
i brought gold to merri creek and dropped it in, feeling like a gorgeous egg-laying goose.
then, this one slept on the banks of the creek, feeling held, supported, safe.
in the evening, friends known in vancouver joined new friends met in oz for dinner and the chocolate revolution.
in the currents and eddies of hair draping and curling through river rock crossing over ripples of rushing yarra yarra water
a desalinator with succulents pink-flowered, blue splendid faery wren, those on stop-over to siberia
and, sssssssssstttttt..... into the embodiement of transmedia time we go
i am moved, my teeth are seen, my hands flap about, my diaphragm releases
my mind whirs, silence is heard, the mundane-sacred-profane conjoin
my delight can be measured by placing sentence-gesture-stillness-resonance against mind-body-heart-spirit and counting to one h'yup! two h'yup! three...weeeeee:)
language reduction: redux binary
from ding dong to oussou, eastern elevation and mr. wilkinson
i found myself near, dear and with a career.
today i fear the ease with which i could disappear, only showing myself to the inside of grocery stores and craft supply shops
today i also celebrate my capacity to choose and my ability to set aside time for tasks other than those measurable by outside eyes
today i am me