My Dad And The First Day Of Spring
This was a lovely scene, quiet and serene, and a very pleasant moment during an exploration I undertook, either side of nightfall, along the banks of the Yarra River in Abbotsford, an inner city suburb in Melbourne, Australia.
The Moment Between Events
A few seconds before this image was made a bird had taken to flight from the surface of the water. A few seconds after I’d made the image a kayaker passed through the scene. This picture, like so many other photographs we make, represents the moment between events. Those that actually happened, and those that we imagined.
It is a moment in time and the reality of that moment belongs to the photographer and to the viewer. By bringing our own stories and interpretations to the image we create our own reality.
Turn, Turn, Turn
It had been a lovely day and the first day of spring. It’s been a very cold winter in Melbourne this year: the coldest in 28 years.
I’ve traveled in much colder climbs than Melbourne, which is a lovely city. But Melbourne is a tad grey for me during the colder winter months. I figure if it’s going to be cold, it might as well snow.
Anyway, the weather’s improving and I’m very much looking forward to longer days. Sunshine is a special thing, it lifts the soul and clears the head. It renews hopes and dreams, and gets us back outside and in touch with nature. The slow march of winter is replaced with the livelier, more vital gait of spring. And that fact is echoed in our own, more vigorous approach to life with the arrival of spring.
All Things Must Pass
August 31 is a difficult day. It’s the anniversary of my dad’s passing. This year marked the 10th anniversary of that day, an easy one to remember as it’s the last day of winter.
September 1, particularly when it’s going to be a sunny day, is always a day I look forward to. It marked the end of my dad’s decline and, I’d like to think, a new beginning free of pain and suffering. And this makes me consider if we have any awareness after death. In particular it causes me to consider the concept of nothing.
Is nothing the space between something. For example the distance between atoms or stars. Or is nothing more like the space between musical notes. Both notions are important. The first because it is likely measured in terms of the (linear) time it might take to travel to and from different points of something, the second because without the spaces between notes there would only be sound, without form or structure.
I propose that beauty resides between the notes. And I wonder if other things might as well. Perhaps the answers to the ultimate questions. I know not, but it’s an interesting question nonetheless.
While we, no doubt, will continue to explore both the cosmic and the micro in our quest for understanding, perhaps the most important journey we undertake will be inward towards a greater awareness and a keener perception of the connectedness we all share with each other and the universe.
Fred Guy, RIP