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Every stop is a story - Darwin to Adelaide River

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  Every stop is a story - Darwin to Adelaide River The Adelaide River Rupture (image to be uploaded - subscribe to be notified) The storm did not break over the Adelaide River plains; rather, reality tore open along the track. To the left, the familiar Top End landscape clung fiercely to its quiet melancholy. A lone gum tree stood sentinel over the charred scrub and dry earth, its leaves catching the last bruised light of a brooding wet-season sky. In the hollow below, the old fictional homestead crouched beside the rutted dirt road, enduring the heavy stillness that always settles before the atmosphere ruptures. Then came the tear. It began not with thunder, but with an overwhelming, luminous heat that shredded the grey overcast into molten ribbons. You could feel the vortex of raw energy sweeping through radiant ambers, searing cadmium oranges, and blinding celestial whites. The vortex descended like a folded dimension brushing against the earth. Where the atmospheric rift touch...
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Ubud It happens in this time.

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It happens in this time.

Within all of this hassell and bustle, there is peace to be found.
It matters that our approach of founding is addressed.
If we don't walk so fast,  if our minds are rested.
We will have found this, where and whenever we intend understanding.
Time were ritual is small,  place where space is eternal.
There is a pattern to making sense.
Personalised and collective.


Forget the calling of the influential and competitive.
Forget the combatants.
Attempt to day dream.
Fall over the drawn line.
Re-position and let each door open wide.
So much to see in so many small spaces.
A universe in each unearthed cavity.



There are many gods who nonsensically watch us.
All whispering whilst we restrictively rant.
They have privileged loss.
They have fallen from superiority to obscurity.
Their stories are silent whilst we are glorious in distraction.
Fall with them, dream with them,  be at mind with them.



Within each fall, they linger and mutate on.
Through each season, timeless and enduring.
Cyclic they remain unnoticed.
They want to be noticed,  and we can learn from their shimmer.
Their stains against time.
It is possible to see them dance and weave through our space.
Ever-slowly, ever-changing and ever-in-ness.
It happens in this time.
Never in or when convenient.
Busy being,  erodes our capability to make sense.




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