Tuesday, May 03, 2016

About Hope

(To those who would crush dreams)
I don't believe there is such a thing as 'False Hope'
There is a state of being hopeful
and there is a hopeless state.
To hold on to hope can mean the difference between striving to live and giving up on the most basic natural instinct of all living things.
Hope is by definition, not dependent on empirical certainty
It is staking one's future on the chance that the possibility of a future may exist, despite the odds!
For a human hope can be the irrational thread which permits us to go on living when the odds say we must perish.
This is not 'false' but the truest calling!
"Life's longing for itself" is the hope that life is possible.
To be without hope crushes the spirit and destroys that sacred seed planted in all living things.
The WILL TO LIVE! With out the will to live we are indeed in a Hopeless state! 


If the leaders of a Government responsible for the care of refugees see fit to snatch hope from those people's hearts; then have the audacity to accuse those who offer comfort or care for Asylum Seekers on Nauru of being responsible for their despair by offering 'false hope' then they are fools and have no business in the lives of others. 


This is Australia! God Help us!

Monday, April 25, 2016

Lost'n'gone

Since my last post I have traveled to Victoria again where lost my new phone with the awesome camera. I returned home to discover my just out of warranty computer had died, realized that the fridge is on it's last legs (puddles of water appear on our floor every morning) and after three days at home traveled to Ramingining where I misplaced some important work documents...

Oh yeh and my favorite piece of urban bushland has been bulldozed to so that the good people of Darwin can enjoy a new indoor trampoline leisure centre!



Having just read Bukowski's 'Ham in Rye', I figured that's just the way she goes sometimes.

I usually find peace on my bicycle, but lately I haven't been able to make time to go for any  decent rides. However the Wednesday morning kayak jaunts are a pretty great way to escape the humdrum and sometimes the atmosphere is divine. Last week as we launched, a large black cloud mass rolled across the sky toward us. As the storm approached the wind picked up and pushed us in exactly the direction we wanted to go. It was awesome! If I'd had a decent camera I reckon I could have taken some amazing photos of the illuminated kayaks in the foreground encompassed by a black mass of whirling, converging high pressure, low pressure, moisture friction air and electricity.


Unfortunately the photo above is a low quality duplicate of a low quality photo I copied from my facebook page.... The original is on the broken computer.

Eh.... what do you want for 50 cents?

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Sea and sky

Darwin harbor can be a real soup bowl, a hot thick broth of salty water, but at this time of year there's usually quite a bit of rough weather around and a lot more swell.
This morning on the ebb tide the sea was deathly still.... like glass! Seriously barely a ripple. It would have been a perfect time to paddle across to Mandorah.

I wonder how often I'll get to paddle on such still water.

A kayaking friend adrift between sea and sky

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Still water

On Wednesday the 9th of March, the morning of a partial solar eclipse, I cycled down to Fanny Bay, gathered my various pieces of equipment, joined the two halves of my new paddle, snugly together forming a 7ft feathered paddle and launched the Kayak into the still ebb tide waters of Darwin harbor. 



Turmoil doubt and indecision plague me at times, but on the water I feel free. The sun had not risen but the sky was light, my two companions lowered themselves into their own vessels and pushed off from the shore. The morning was quiet and still, no boats moored at this time of year, cyclone season is not safe to moor in open water.... the sea can be whipped up into a roaring frenzy, but then some days are like this. Still and quiet.

I paddled silently as the others talked, I watched the horizon and the clouds as they changed hue with the rising sun, the air was thick and humid. Water barely divisible from air, humidity and temperature in both spheres were almost identical. The world was at rest, all drama paused for a moment on the sea. I let my paddle glide along the surface of the water observing the speed of my movement, I could hear the gentle sound of water swirling past the stern. 

This was a moment. Sometimes I have them on land, on the water they come more easily. 

In the silent dawn my ears caught the distant drone of a single engine in the sky. I glanced to the horizon and saw a peculiar sight. A shiny silver Tiger Moth, a biplane. It was an unusual thing to see out over the water at dawn and reminded me of the film 'The Kid', in which the protagonist (Bruce Willis) a middle aged 'Image consultant' has a nervous breakdown and meets and is forced to interact with his child self, throughout the movie there are appear scenes of an airplane, a bright red biplane. The biplane is significant to the character's future happiness but this isn't revealed until the later in the film. It was always there waiting to become reality, but in the present was only ever a distant potential for a man who had hardened his heart due to pain he'd suffered as a child. 

The biplane flew over us tilting slightly so the pilot could get a better view of the coast and us in our kayaks below. Circling three times slowly we felt the eyes of a curious bird upon us, a friend in the air, and fellow adventurer going nowhere in particular but glad to be there. I laid back on the deck of my boat and looked straight up as the Tiger Moth made it's final pass, not too high above my head, before disappearing beyond the treeline and eventually out of earshot. We smiled and absorbed the moment in silence. 

A wonder. Those planes move so slowly as though they're suspended on a puff of air, you can see the wing tips twitch as the plane browses through the air, with time to observe any point of interest, moving slowly across the sky as we paddled between the sea and the air.

I like my morning paddles.  


Sunday, February 28, 2016

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Afloat again

I'm back in the game!

Finally managed to pick up another kayak a couple of weeks ago.
This morning after improvising a hatch cover out of a found bucket-bong, a shopping bag and some very handy shock cord.

Final result.... I'm afloat.