No, just another place and time. Another relative position, from the existential (relative) point of view. Otherwise it’s a new place, inside.
New? What’s new? Now is new, as always. :)
As anticipated, some green tree frogs came up from NSW in the truck. They were in the habit of making their home in various parts of the truck and two or three exited just after sundown, looking a bit knackered after hanging on through the long journey – a little self reflection perhaps. They now live and hunt down from my front door where I leave a light on for the same reason I left one on in the country, to keep the insects from zeroing in on the lights of the house. There is always fresh water there for them though the beautiful blue Siamese Fighter is a little put out. The frogs seem to favour the wood rising out of the water where the fighter was used to retreating to at night, or when disturbed.
Such is life, always changing regardless of accustomed positions. And in this world change means activity, work, movement. Pain or death to any fixation in me. That’s living.
There is a forty hectare property nearby that is old forest and mangrove swamp, an old scout camp. Right now the cicadas are in full song and there are a few dragonflies and ‘others’ about though the forest is too dense and mozzie infested to be stalking anything not easy to shoot. It’s a dragonfly I haven’t seen before, the colours. A striking red, black and yellow. Still getting the hang of exposure.
There are some interesting flowers as well, lovely colours, delicate form. I met a fellow on the track who works there and who is an expert on cicadas. He told me a few things I didn’t know and have now forgotten.
Oh well, such is my retention of facts I probably don’t need to know, it being an unnecessary exercise of the mind for me to remember. An expenditure of energy I don’t need to spend.
I used to wonder about ‘home’ when I was a kid. Whether it’s a place or feeling or what. Now I know. Home is where I am at peace and I am only ever at peace in me, inside. All I had to do for the last forty or so years was find it. :) And it is always found now, here, beneath the believer and the disbeliever inside the writer and the reader. Now.
Then (now), like anything worth having, it has to be kept in tip top condition. Polished as the shiny ‘surface’ of being. Another forty years maintenance.
Then ho, ho, ho – ome! Like now.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge