Danny James

396: Mastery

Sometimes, you are lost. Strayed from yourself to some outer edge of a dark expressionless abyss where seem there the stars to contradict and misinform. Then, when once more you are by your own matter, some small and deathless gleam guided back to strength and health, by what Galaxy presses back your bounds and goads from the depths a precious spark of mystery trace. Nature hold her breath, the Entire Universe stops to stare. The very stars, silent marvel.

395: Patagonia part 7 (thaw)

After some time abroad, being suddenly home again endures a spectacular dilation. It’s like the sight of the first visiting snowflakes, the falling fascinates like none after. The plain and recognisable circumstances glisten afresh with seemingly new and engaging qualities as everything slowly drifts back into its usual recognisable place, settling into a blanket of familiarity. Before long the rain of pleasantries will again begin to irritate and you’ll tell yourself at first that you just need to change something in your thinking this time, adjust the old lens through which you look at things. You understand that you’re not altogether wrong, because the larger share of life will be used up on tedium tasks and the routine actions and engagements necessary for simply existing, much less for making fair and civil progress in this world. You’ve been too long between living and missed some wonderful experiences and insights that might have helped, because you’ve been busy trying to wedge into your life some of the lessons you took from the last time you got it right the third time and you’ve been making up ground ever since, but still; nothing prevails quite like the emptiness of a life layed out in full and supposed before it’s even commenced it and worse, without having the faintest idea of how so much hope lies in the available choices, and thus pressing on and completely void of interment spells of spontaneous adventure and surprise and everyday a bare and unsatisfying effort. Contained and under stimulated and barely perceptible tones of activity compressed to a humming ineffectual lull, until reanimation of your blood and return of your wildest strength and happiness as returns by such a trip as enjoyed to the Patagonia’s. It is deeply vivifying, and renewing of what unnameable qualities stand spellbound and silent amid the rain of sensation and fresh, un-dreamable experiences that elevate us brimming into a modest Euphoria. But lean they must, in pitch and power. So as to maintain and not drain the host in a constant feed of enthusiasm and to fit the pressed halls of perception and memory. The effect of where you have been is noticeable, uplifting and even tiring, and like many things that saturate no matter how incredible the stimuli, temporal. What you’ve noticed most, is how simple convenience stores now bear an intimation; Entering them initiates an automative study of the shelves for border-easy dry goods, computing the comparative cost of bottled water. Coffee, any kind, to quicken the senses waned from an all night drive, when some small yawning section of your being quietly revels at the start in the middle of the night, and promise of that first breath of new evening air. The excitement stepping off the bus and out into the cold, your faculties quite unprepared for the chill, but riveted and inviting of any commotions. The newness of a new gas station with friends who share your lost and delighting meagreness. The smell, the buzz, blinding lights, coke cola signs and the curious glares. A pause in the middle of a somewhere, an interval and a never-ending getting by; it’s the same in rest-stops the world over. They hold mostly only the barest necessities of respite and refuelling with the same isles and arrangements as any and lie at the end of the same dirt road of an outskirt and in them still we are gladly lost. That is the travellers lesson. You understand the various and similar constants of human need. Interaction and communication and everyone once in a while a blessed intermission from going someplace to rediscover your own simple humanness. You would not have known this had you not needed to go to see for yourself, and we all need to figure out this Labyrinth on our own and when you do, you finally realise that we don’t much do different things as much as do the same things a little differently. It mustn’t be forgotten, amid the circling fear that you will step back into the same old exhausted habits of constructing a mechanical existence that only forges forward and does nothing to lateralise with the view. That fails to stir the emotions or rouse the sanctified instincts of your fantastical bearing awakened by sunsets, open roads, friends by the fireside in cold mountain valleys and her eyes the first time you caught a glimpse of love in them. When Amy had looked through you and into some sad future that she knew was coming, and achingly, tenderly desperate said something so incredibly touching, as though if it were then surely her last act on Earth it was the only one that mattered and it had to be said. You did not hear it, but the look on her face after, was ample to cause the world to halt, the bars over your heart to dissipate and the very centre to fold in upon itself, overcome. Amy, knowing her sweetest truth had missed its mark and went drifting off searching into the infinitude from which it came said nothing more but smiled gently and dipped her little head upon your shoulder, closed her misty eyes and fell softly to sleep. You have not failed since to remember that golden moment, it outshines any have you ever had. Though it has been the cause of a recurring and cataclysmic grievance ever since, that you could have no whit of recollection or imagination of exactly what it was that Amy had gathered up all of her resources of courage to say, the shadows and suppositions of which as it escaped and evaporated were enough to profoundly and instantly redirect the emotional course that you would choose to take in life. You were simply absent then. A spectator of your own life than rather the participant, and you find yourself now attempting to recall the many preceding miracles mistook for everyday occurrences that are fewer now, and paler that you are looking for them. As is the afternoon sun of our time compared to its morning heat, the best is always done. You have slept too long, that waking now none too late, the Sun has begun to set. Staring out of the window at everything that’s new and will never your eyes see or your bare skin feel the brushing of again in this lifetime. Gazing at a vastness of land between all the places never adventured, stretching for miles and miles still. There will be layers of new experiences yet, the overcast of old memories, more blankets to come of snow. Her eyes.

Somewhere in Patagonia, 2013-2014

Somewhere in Patagonia, 2013-2014

394

Dusk is falling over the prairie and what wild colours and tranquility ensue. Overcome with peace and gratitude, seeking now nothing further have I crossed as far as I mean this fine evening, and will lie here to the Earth with the rarefied equanimity of the occasion. Travellers know this, too, the stars; that tomorrows are no place to lay ones head-filled dreams. When ones bliss is found, how higher fares to hold so little attraction. How far I have come, what troubled days behind. That here should I think on them in this place and splendour where shall I pass but once. I know not where hereafter will I pause, nor what great adventure or adversity there anticipates me, and it matters none. The experiencing is the juice of the thing, not the knowing. The span as ever, it provokes. Goads me always further toward what ordinary things may in the horizon hide. I think on the faces I have met and leave behind to the ever diminishing edge and it is enough to know that they wish me well, and I them as we make our own ways dispersed as stars burning and convulsing an imperial appetency and dazzling like jewels strewn across a black ocean. O happy hazard, liberty laden chance. There is a rush in randomness, a certain excitement in the living by accident that inspires the blood and gives a freshened youth to all ones days. Only a man out of mind can only calm find on such an evening as this. The sun descends of its perch and will not for branch or cloud, its last light suppress. It gives to the last, as I must. While I lay in the grass, a gentle wind of Natures interest brushes the field making waves that go on and on for many miles of quiet tides across the land. She has stopped alike, interviewing me with playful intrigue and all is well.

-2008

393

”Sometimes I want to take in everything at once, and leave the confines of my singular existence. To not be so contained within myself. I’d like to leave my isolated mind and body and dissolve into the air. To stop interacting and fighting energy and integrate myself into energy itself. My mind would spill over and the contents would disperse themselves into the atmosphere. It wouldn’t be able to reel anymore; it would simply become enfolded in the life vibrating all over the universe. I want to be so fluid that I can experience the vitality and emotions of whoever I encounter, anywhere in the world at any point in time. I want to be a speck on a timeline running infinitely in both directions, skipping back and forth across it.”

danny james blog sky cloud thing

392: For you are mortal

A calm and foreboding undertow, building to its urgency rather beautifully as like the golden bloom of a setting sun, for all the promise of doom is threaded yet with a most polite and peaceable reassuring. That even the end can be met well. Though not all things will reveal instantly their intentions true, the surface hesitates you, and the depths unclear, you must anyway cross this river.
Obeying the press of primal loom, take gladly the trails nigh the crescendos curve and ride with joy the sorrowful rhythms of reminisce. The haunting hymns of gaiety gone by and a loved ones laughter past. Turn your look with an optimism to the rainbow arc flung further than it can reach intact. But that moment in the middle, how it shines. Bold and spectacular. Nothing more glorious, nothing held back. Reach for yours the same. Spend yourself.

Surry Hills, Sydney 2014

Surry Hills, Sydney 2014

391: Patagonia part 6

I’d not have noticed were it not for Amy calling from the back of the bus, as though we were the only passengers and it wasn’t as late as it was – how the moon was following us along our way, dancing atop of the Andes in the night with no care for what might think the stars of its escapades, that long calm ride out of blissful nowhere and into the future. Or that I could enjoy the company of softness unabashed leaning in to conversation and my soul immediately like we’d known each other forever and little by little, falling and willing, I’ve never known Christmas mornings quite as wonderful as that descent. Such wanton curiosity and tender openness after a few hours acquaintance, within which time our lives had been searched and laid bare for discovering, and it’d been decided as I stared past her doting and into the night at the leaping moon coming to my conclusions only then and feeling every blink of her eyes; that I was her angel, and she really believed it to be so, in the most honestly reflected way with all of her uninhibited heart. And although falling went opposed to everything strong I’d ever known and put up, I knew then at last, my purpose after all was simply to love with everything I had.

Somewhere in Chile, 2013

Somewhere in Chile, 2013

390: To himself

For a little over a month now Sydney has been swept by an habitual storm fall every Sunday, preferring its visits late in the afternoon. It’s as though the skies have been pent-up all week and delight, as we all do to finally let go. It is always the same; a short stay, a passing temper, worse in appearance than in conduct with a rather benign, even pleasant refreshing Summer afternoon quality. From the heights of my apartment have I full view of oceans from Bondi to Coogee and beyond and the contrasting sections of sky have been quite an inspiration for pause. One half still azure and awash with subtle sunlight, the other overshadowed by a crawl of dark and bulbous smoke that with each meeting so far has prevailed the initial contact but tires quick and is dispersed having spent itself. It might have made a fine occasion for reading had I energy to surrender at the opportunity. Still there was much in the sky to rest my attention on; the rain fell harder and straighter than previous expulsions, every drop seemingly in parallel direction and equal haste. No wind was felt or visible. Such quiet has been absent recently and it’s been a while now I figure, since I have stopped long enough to enjoy the changing seasons and fascinate at Nature. Soul, where are you going?

From Bondi, over Clovelly

From Bondi, over Clovelly

389: To the light

A man enters a valley such as this, and at last he is quiet. All of his grandeur immediately and rightly disperses into nothingness. A most natural and healthy state is surely quickened to the light.

Patagonia, 2013 - 2014

Patagonia, 2013 – 2014

388

The simplest schoolboy is now familiar with truths for which Archimedes would have sacrificed his life.

Ernest Renan

387

Have strength child. We are born fundamentally weak, and people are going to need you.

Tell them everything is worth it.

Show them.

Danny James Danny James' blog

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