Just another small, early-Autumn moment of appreciating something uncomplicated…
Month: March 2016
009.
We were watched as we walked through the rainforest…
(I take photos of birds from time to time, but generally don’t share them through my blog… my focus here tends to be images that evoke a sense of narrative, at least for me, and that’s not usually the case with shots of birds – they just are. Sometimes that’s okay though… sometimes it’s enough just to ‘be’…)
008.
We can waste so much life with flabby words, bloated images, cluttered thoughts. What happens if we strip it all back, remove all that is superfluous? All that remains is the essence of the thing. Everything will have purpose, form, structure.
The tungsten glare of a lamppost. The snaking trail of the car’s lights. The empty car park. There is space in between, where what is not needed has been taken away. This leaves more space for you, to fill with your own meanings. Tell me – what happens next? Can you hear the sharp screaming of the tyres? The roar of the engine? Or is yours a different story?
When we take away what’s not needed, then what is left will be all that we need.
007.
A forest calls for a different kind of noticing; attending to patterns of light and shadow dancing across leaves, a secret language written in lines of seeds like braille, and the gentle unfurling of an edge catching the strength of the sun from above.
There are patterns here, deep ones, that have been playing in the margins of meaning far longer than I have been seeking them out.
006.
Everything is different in the forest. The air is clear, unfiltered. The sound is soft, warm. The light is sharp in places, absent in others. We hear sounds like a baby’s cry; catbirds moving unseen. Everywhere is life, shadows across the path. Even the trees seem to move, wrapping around each other in a timeless embrace.
Every time I’m here, I’m home…
005.
We walked the almost empty streets of this city that was not ours, noticing the play of light across the rigid geometry of the modern buildings. We walked until that light was almost gone, and found ourselves near the lake. Here we listened to the sigh of the reeds, whispering their farewell to the sun as it sank, and admired a different play between light and land.
004.
It is easy to forget that there is always choice… are you going to stop, or go? Are you leaving something behind, or are you moving towards something new? Even when we cannot change the shape of our path, we can choose how we walk it, and what details will draw us in. We arrange these choices behind us, like links in a chain, that always leads to now. Sometimes it’s worth reorganising that chain, so as not to let it weigh us down too much…
003.
We leave ripples in the world as we move through it… some are larger than others. Sometimes we don’t even see them…
002.
There is still life, and then there is very still life… so still, as to be frozen in time.
A slice of life, somebody’s life, tells its own tale of simple work, simple outlook, simple ornamentation. A simpler time, perhaps…
001.
Time to start again. To throw open the window and let the chilled air in. To look out without knowing what to see, or where to go. Let’s see what’s out there…
Timothy Moss 