The ants don’t seem to notice
They continue in their industrious many-legged strides
Heading to solemn purpose
Across dusty paving stone, sun-scorched lawn and Biro-flecked page.
My aim is clearer:
To recover and renew
To discover comforting patterns in the void
To rework the threads currently hanging loose about mind and body.
Not looking back.
“In today’s ever-changing world it is not always easy to remain consistent. One day I could be a bird, the next a pocket-sized calculator. The opportunities stretching out before us do not stop or have any discernible boundaries. The chance for things to change remains ever-present.”
So sayeth the tree, stuck into the ground, by its ever-strengthening roots.
Hot squash always helps
Or perhaps cordial would be ideal
For a day looking out the window
Why are there no painkillers in the rainforest?
Because the Parrots Eat ’em All
No they don’t
They just fly away and chatter in colour
Why has the common cold not been cured yet?
Blame the wrestling master called Big Pharma
I remember Tunes and Lockets and that nice tasting
Cough mixture that made you feel slightly sozzled
Ruminate, meditate or detoxicate
Ambient chill music and tea
The future looks a little clearer
I can see it in the mirror
More hot squash needed, it says.
The surgeon had been awake for days. Looking down at the patient’s tattered face, he grimaced. This would need more than a regular skin graft.
He saw a twitch on the patient’s face. A faint mumble, and then a scream.
“Please Lord, do not forsake me!”
Older lady in some agitation
Halfway inside the doorway
And halfway on the street
She beckons for help with one hand
The other keeping tight hold of a man incapacitated
She is telling him off for being difficult
He was refusing to get into his wheelchair
She instructs me to hold his arm
While we position the chair
Eventually he angles himself in slowly, securely
“He thinks he can walk more than he can”
“I can!” he adds
We say goodbye
And they both look happier
Than they did when I first saw them
1. A Fear of the number 13
2. Friday 13th.
3. Unlucky for most
4. Who witness this
5. Dumber One
6. Assault on the senses.
7. Another old Greek word is
9. But the more modern
11. Says it just as well
12. And Shouts louder
13. On July 13th
Jenga in the hotel lobby
Brass bands in the street
Towers get built up to the sky
And knocked down on repeat
There’s plenty of conflict
And an ongoing war
But here the hand grenades
Are for throwing from bar to the floor
In the park I feel able to relax, to experience a calm and peaceful tranquility away from the pressures and demands of my desk. The park is a new place to me, being as I am a newcomer to Sydney, but I have found it and the surrounding area to be extremely welcoming and inspiring.
Most days I will take a stroll around the parkland, stopping to notice the various plants, trees and brightly hued birds swooping around the foliage or pecking on the ground’s surface. I sometimes sit with notebook and pen, scribbling down new ideas for stories or poems. But I don’t force them out of my head-space. I am soon drawn back to my present area and the park, and can feel happy and content to be a small part of something much bigger than myself.
My own culture is a mixture of things, but the concept of parkland originated in Europe, as I did, so I suppose we have that in common. More than anything else though, the idea of an urban park is a place in the city that everyone can enjoy equally and respectfully. And that is certainly something to get behind, I think…
I am waiting for a delivery of an item of technology that will make life easier. It will adapt our home’s existing telephone output and update it into something more suitable for a modem connection, thus allowing access to the Internet, or the World Wide Web as it was once known. The telephone output adapter will be packaged in various plastic materials that will not decompose for at least thirty thousand years, and possibly never.
Right now I am in that enviable position of being in the present – the Here and Now – and not needing to do much other than simply wait. As I am – I think – a sentient creature, I ruminate and write at the same time.
Much has been made recently of the psychological practise mindfulness and how it can help keep thoughts focused and mental energy more efficient. While I believe it is helpful to not dwell on thoughts, be they positive or negative, some proponents of the technique claim that for a mind to be functioning at its optimum it needs to be in the Here and Now and not daydreaming or wandering. I feel this does a disservice to mental strolls along imaginary pathways and lanes. I think the mind is capable of being both in the present and also able to let things free-up and lose itself down different routes.
In short, I’m a big fan of daydreaming.
I believe daydreaming reveals the different aspects of the mind and personality to the I, without the codified stern warnings and rebukes of the ego. It lets forces of the imagination out into the internal world, with the option of creative interpretations finding a space in the external world. Dreams and nightmares make us what we are. Keeping hold of a route to discover and rediscover the forces beyond and behind the everyday, as well as the universal themes and designs of what we call reality can only be a good thing in my opinion.
Now back to the wait… and the daydreaming.
Like an abandoned shopping trolley in the breeze
He moves back and forth on the bench
Shuffling his notes around
Waiting to speak
The time doesn’t arrive
He moves back and forth on the bench