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Humpty Doo | Litchfield Shire | Darwin Rural Area | Northern Territory | Australia

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Inner journey quite reflection

November 9, 2017

 

The hide has come into being

Lovingly crafted from the timbers and bark surrounding it

Boyhood memories were summonsed by ritual reenactment of childhood dreaming

Distant moments of smells and sounds and textures vividly brought back to life.

A golden haired boy carefree at play in the bush

The last of his kind before the suburbs took the land

The frontier crept into the wilderness and the boy never stopped seeking its retreating elves

Tolkien breathed life into nobility living in the sanctuaries from modern life

 

Here in the now adult skills and tools brought the hide into this world

More success than the boy ever achieved

End of each day body stiffer than once it might have been

Satisfaction looking upon creation

An offering to beauty, time and the ravages of the tropics

It will not last

Already some decay is present

No time for youth now

Perhaps a few years

Maybe 10 with chemical assistance and ongoing maintenance

The boy in me lives but wonders why the man he expected never came to be

The man who sits there claims the boy as no stranger but recognition is not easy for some

Plato warned of these reversals with age

The biological urge was pushed aside by some grand calling

Some distraction

Energies subverted or transformed?

The end of an evolutionary line

I did not choose this yet I chose adventure

I think the unknown again on the edge of the abyss

The craft constructed to sail it ran aground

Perhaps salvageable 

Perhaps a wreck 

Must I dive in once again to reinvent myself?

Chaos reigns from weather to politics and the tangled wills of little people 

everywhere known patterns reveal themselves

Inside the hide observer unseen

Outside birds go about their business

The scientist ever questing after objectivity

A kookaburra sits on a projecting pole and gets the joke

An Oriel sits on eggs in a nest of the same materials

Incubating the continuity and change of its race

A white-breasted cuckoo-shrike hangs around to the orioles agitation

In the peace of silent observation ideas are free to take new form

Hatching new plans

Refining old 

Ideas from all ages recombine and who can claim any as they flow through us?

Where is hope?

Where is love?

Thankfully there is always love

Each bird can bring the rapture beyond names and forms

Their song cuts through the solitude to remind that we are all with all the word and it is full of beauty if only we stop to see it

Nothing lasts but everything is forever once it has been

Eternal returns

I may leave no genes behind but future memories await their moment of being

On with the dance

Yes

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