Why did I stop writing ? I search inwardly, to discover that its probably around energy levels. Having spent much of the last eighteen months throwing myself into developing myself has a human being, my yoga practise, my teaching skills, writing a weekly yoga column for the local newspaper, building an imaginative renovation of the yoga studio leaves precious little creative energy to keep my writing up to date. I dislike this, as I have always been a scribbler right from when I was a child . When I was about twelve years old I used to keep a diary written in code so that my younger sister could not read it. I still have the diary . Now I cannot read it either as I have no idea how to crack the code!
I took this photo about a month ago, on one of my lone perambulations in the mountains where I live. I saw the image on my walk, as I see other images every day . I want to say something about the capture of the moment, but before I do, know that I resent taking my phone with me on my walk, feeling it almost sacrilegious, disconnecting me from the moment.Yet there are photos that I want to record either as a useful resource for a for future Facebook update or as simple photographic record.
The image is a simple one, the man made trainer somewhat worn with a small hole in the top of , as my upturned toe has worked its way through in a futile bid for freedom. The artificial object in all of this , the rest is ....well....organic. The stones and gravel, billions of years here before anything, mute witness to itself, no eye to appreciate its strength, its place in the landscape then, human vision giving witness to its now . The water inoculated by asteroids from eons, mutely reflecting a cosmic past, currently mirroring light captured in the shades and contours of grey stone upon grey stone. As the shadow of life looks back at the Universe. I ask whats important now?