It was morning when he went to work. Early, but not too early. He sat in the sun chatting and eating ice cream for half an hour in the mid afternoon. He left work in the evening, waited for the tram. He climbed aboard when it came along, stood amongst the other commuters with his backpack slung from one shoulder across his front. A breeze blew through the window, playing through his hair, brushing across his face. He closed his eyes. It was evening and he was on the way home and the day was about to end. He climbed down from the tram, crossed the main road and wandered along the side street toward the house. It was dark, and the air was warm. He could smell what people were cooking for dinner and the intoxicating fragrance of jasmine. He felt contented.
AND THE angel who talked with me came again and awakened me, like a man who is wakened out of his sleep. (Zechariah 4:1 AMP)
For who are you, O great mountain before Zerubbabel. You shall become a plain! (Zechariah 4:7 AMP [excerpt])
I didn’t bring you here to drown. I didn’t bring you out on the water to founder. I didn’t bring you to this new beginning to fail. I knew the end before the beginning, because I know the plans I have for you for a future and a hope.
Put both your hands against my chest. Push as hard as you can. You won’t get rid if me as easily as that, you’re already inside. You might make me frustrated, tired, angry or sad. It doesn’t mean anything, you can’t lose me as easily as that. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done or what you’ve done, when or with whom. Once you’ve opened the door and come inside, the place for you there will be waiting regardless of where you’ve gone. You lay in my bed. I let you in. It doesn’t matter if anything happened once you were there, or why. I can’t let you leave. You’re part of me now.
But the thoughts refuse to be stilled, and your heart is so full it feels like it will explode. You try all of the usual tricks but your soul will not be quiet.
Don’t be broken, don’t be broken, don’t be broken. Please don’t be broken.
You cry out to God. Surely there is mercy here. But you have no control and you can’t fix it. All you can do is lie awake through the long and unsettled night, the wind raging and rattling at the windows, a mirror of the ceaseless roiling going on inside you, and you hold on to this quiet hope beneath all the roar and confusion.
Everything will be all right in the end.
Before the morning breaks you give up on sleep entirely and slide out of bed. Sitting on the edge for a moment you wonder what this new day will bring. Then you rise up to meet it.
I went for a walk. It was somewhere between 5-10 kms. I’m not sure exactly. It took a couple of hours and I found some parts of Melbourne that I love now that I didn’t even know existed. As seen below…
I love semi-wild parks!
Croquet anybody? Mostly I’m imagining a bunch of this going on…
Look at it! It’s called RAVENSWOOD!
Brb, moving to Ivanhoe.
Remember this? I would have posted it before I had a mac myself.
This turned into one of the most interesting conversations I have had in a while…
There are parts missing because I didn’t screen shot it quickly enough before it disappeared.
I’ve been sitting on these pictures I took at the start of the year at the Melbourne, Now exhibition at NGV Australia. I don’t know why (because of no internet?), but anyway, here they are.
Greatest Hits (Gavin Bell, Jarrah de Kuijer, Simon McGlinn), Untitled (2012)
Elizabeth Gower, 150 Rotations (2013)
Patricia Piccinini, The Carrier (2012)
Julia DeVille, Degustation (2013)
You know me, I find creepy things the most interesting. And tea.
“Think no more about it – that is just what you yourself would like to be able to do, and you put out the light, because light makes all your thoughts too vivid, too real. You try to creep away, to hide yourself in the dark, you tear the clothes from your body so as to breathe more freely, you throw yourself on your bed to try and deaden all feeling. But your thoughts, they will not rest; they flutter like bats in ghostly confusion round and round the exhausted brain, they gnaw and nibble their way like rats through your leaden weariness. The more quietly you lie there, the more restless is your memory, the more agitating the flickering pictures in the dark; and so you get up and light the lamp again to scare away the ghosts.”
Beware of Pity