A waltz through the hills

On our sojourn further south, we've stopped off at a magical little corner of the world, and tonight we are staying on the edge of the Indian Ocean, admist the peppermint trees and the colonial gardens at the top of the hill in Yallingup.

After settling in we took a relaxing walk, a waltz through the hills, to the sandy shores of Yallingup Beach.

By the time we arrived, the sun was already low in the sky

We were just in time for my favourite time of the day - sunset.

Now i've seen a lot of sunsets.

Despite being an 'old hand' at sunsets, I'm always enthralled by the vibrant golden orange hues.

The way the sun paints and repaints the sky minute by minute as it makes its majestic descent to the horizon.

And for a few moments, all the people on the beach are silent, mesmerised as one participating in the sermon of the sun.

Then, in the brief seconds between when the sun touches the horizon and disappears below it, the veil between dimensions thins and the soul of the world is more easily perceived and available.

No matter how many times I see the spectacle, I never get user to it.

Today was a special day, as sunset on the west coast of Australia occurs into the Indian Ocean.

That means that the sun melts in the sea and the twilight lingers as the sun refracts off the ocean even below the horizon.

Comments

Handstands

I’m waiting for a coffee on a Saturday morning, standing next to the counter in a suburban shopping centre. Around the corner comes a Mum with three spirited children. The impact of the small family on the shopping centre energy is palpable. The children are full of life, and the mother has her hands full as the little troupe, aged five, four and three, I estimate, engage with everything with energetic gusto. ‘No running’, Mum says to Mr 4, as a four-year-old energetic boy goes tearing past me. Mum turns around to see the three-year-old walking slowly behind. ‘Come on’, she says to Mr 3, coaxing the littlest one to quicken his pace. Distracted from the older members of the troupe for a few short moments, Mum turns around and sees Mr 4 doing a cool breakdance style handstand in the middle of the shopping centre floor. ‘No handstands’, Mum says. She does not see the coolness in Mr 4’s handstand. Mr 3, however, is visibly impressed and cannot resist the call of acr...

Chapter 2

Not again, she thinks to herself. And then the stairwell begins to lose its composition. Damn she says. It's early. She grips the balustrade, knowing that it's useless. In the realisation, grips harder and closes her eyes. This, at least, is helpful. The visual experience was harrowing the first time. It still is, but at least this time it is somewhat expected and 'normal'. Remembers the first time, it must have been 3 months ago now. Was sitting at a cafe in her home town, the smell of fresh waffles thick in the morning air, mixed with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Ethiopian, she knows. Pip and Pup was a weird name, but the coffee was to die for. The light has been different, that morning, and she wonders how it might have been different if she had not needed to use the bathroom at Pip and Pups. She had walked down the passage past the kitchen, and the passage seem to stretch out and bend to the right. Even though she had screamed loud, no one paid any attenti...

Ancestors

It's been a long time. A long time since I thought about him. And today I visited his grave. Actually, its not really his grave. His mother was buried there many years ago, and his ashes were scattered there after his cremation. His brother thought this was the best place for him to rest . I'm not sure what I expected. Perhaps I thought that this would give me "closure", or a feeling of relief. Perhaps it's been so long, and the emotion and feelings are hidden behind many years. We drove on long straight deserted roads, through old mining areas and tired looking cattle yards. We passed across the marks of an old burnout, and drove through Jarrah forests and pine tree plantations. As we got close to the cemetery, I felt something stirring deep in my belly. The stirring of pain, trauma and emotion long forgotten. The cemetery was a quiet simple clearing setback from the main road and surrounded by virgin bush. Some overgrown bushes covered the path, and I par...

Cogito, ergo sum - I think therefore I am

Search This Blog