Today I get to be a bird, to rise above everyday familiarity, to surge above clouds and see a new perspective. I’ll arrive with the sun as it also travels west to new horizons, a whole continent on which I have yet to set foot.

A nest awaits me, cosy with love and anticipation, where I can rest my wings a while before venturing forth to explore. I thought there would be no more new horizons, but I was wrong. Heart strings pull harder than tired wings.

Westward Bound!


Off to sun, surf, and another wedding (I’ll leave the tequila for the younger souls!). Heading to Mexico tomorrow so won’t be visiting/posting much for the next couple of weeks.

A Hard Truth



Life minus security = freedom.

Life plus security = bondage.

It takes a lot of courage to truly live!

Which ever way you cut it this is a hard one! As we increase our security we also increase our bondage. As we shed our security to embrace freedom we increase our risk factor. Wish I was as brave as I used to be!

The Dawning.



Night was dark, all encompassing around him, punctuated with the echoes of far off shelling. He wanted it to be over.
The sheet clung to his body, damp, confining. Gone were the boyhood sounds of nature, gone too the human hubbub that distracted his thoughts during the day. At night he was alone with his fears; he could not hide from them. Again and again he traced threads in his head, patterns that had brought him here. He was not enamored of the man he had become, the blood of conflict stained his hands also. Faces loomed from the darkness of memory.
Once there had been love, and light. He had walked in sunshine. Now that was over and night ruled his ruined heart. Where was it going to end? Hate begets hate, when would he be free to love again?
A passing vehicle made patterns of light on the curtains, a passing illusion. Tossing off the enveloping sheet he strode to the window taking in deep breaths of cool night air. Tears of frustration began to flow cloaking his cheeks in the darkness.
“God! If there is a God in this mayhem, end this! Bring peace to my heart again!” His lips moved in barely to be heard whispers, the cry went from his heart. Eyes clenched in agony of mind he clung to the window ledge. For all his strength, his intelligence, he was helpless, mind reeling at the futility of life.
A bird broke the heavy silence, its shrill notes penetrating his isolation. Squinting into the darkness he glimpsed far off on the horizon the first glimmer of dawn. Other birds joined, defying the far off smoke clouds. It was not the vast chorus he had known as a boy, just a few voices in the darkness greeting the coming of a new day, a day as yet unbesmirched, pristine, pure. Perhaps today, perhaps another day, sooner or later a day would come bringing an end. His heart encouraged by the tiny songsters he returned to his bed an ember of hope fluttering within. Darkness would return, but so would the morning light.



whispers kevin hill


My first attempt to share from another blog. It’s from Kevin Hill on “Wild Camera Words” and just too beautiful not to pass on. I love the sea and sky and all his imagery is clear as crystal. I shall be “inheriting” a good camera for my birthday and can’t wait to put it to good use. While studying sculpture I learnt the basics of photography but can’t hope to emulate the wonderful pictures I’ve browsed on some blogs. (Gotta learn how to do this right!)

Only Human.



To be human means of necessity flawed, not perfect. It would be nice if we were demi-gods of some sort with divine wisdom and strength of character, supermen or women,but early on, as childhood banter ceases, we realize perfection eludes us. We either lower the bar or live a life of frustration.
Some transfer their ideas of perfection to others, their partner, government, doctors, evangelists… then, when some awful truth comes to light, abandon them, leaving behind a trail of broken families, law suits and lost faith. Should we then abandon our ideals, cheat, lie, steal and live for “number one”? That road leads to anarchy, hate and destruction.
My philosophy tends to be, aim high but try not to get all bent out of shape if I fail – I’m human right? Of course this is a philosophy which is often flawed by my failure to implement it.
I try hard to remember that my fellow humans are like wise flawed and not set unrealistic expectations on them (I find this simpler. Sometimes it’s easier to forgive the failings of others than your own that you have to live with.)
Most destructive of all are those who, not being able to face their imperfections, augment their self esteem by demeaning others. I’m sure we can all think of some nasty illustrations of where that can lead. A soul at peace with itself generally feels no need to exert authority to gain respect. Sadly we all have a lot to learn about being human.

Life’s exchange.



Youth is not lost which was spent in earnest coinage, the days exchanged for experience, for life! A day is not wasted if drained in a deep draught till the last drop. Not lost, rather stored away, their transitory substance exchanged for solid coinage of the realm of life, time transmuted into lasting substance, those things in the heart and mind which can never be erased. Youth is not lost but transformed, a thing of wafting beauty refined to solid gold.

A Man in the Making.



Two big puppy dog eyes, too innocent for a nine year old, shine out above an over sized smile, topping arms and legs like a gangling colt. He seems all eyes and smile balanced precariously on winnowy stilts, never still for a moment. He’s growing up now, character forming, his questions get deeper as he gets longer.
I asked him why he pays such exaggerated compliments to the middle aged crossing lady, saying she looks more beautiful every day etc. He pondered seriously for a moment then said he likes to make people happy, it made him feel good.
The lolly-pop lady is not the only one, every day he leaves a trail of smiles behind as we wend our way to school and back, every dog must be complimented, every baby admired, every child waved to. He sees the whole world as friends or potential friends. He sees things as they should be not as they are. Like a tiny Don Quixote he somehow seems to ignore school bullies and bossy teachers. The existence of evil phrases him only till his lively mind skips to another subject.
He’s growing up I remind myself, the open smile will one day be tempered, the worlds weighed against peer pressure as his body fills out into man hood. What will he be like I wonder? He will loose his childish innocence, but will something be retained? I think of my own son, now grown. Yes, it is possible, in the boy lie the seed of a man, if carefully tended they can grow strong while keeping a tender heart.