5-8-9 12:31 AM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWWkWVdLZnw
The darkness and the chilling breeze
was about as comfortable as strangers
milling about without acknowledgment.
I’m out of typical with urgency bent
Apart from anchored freight
I have no idea what to expect
But I felt like I needed to become evident
An occasional seagull passes by,
The waves continue to sound regardless,
And variations of a theme are practiced.
Aside from now, this morning,
as I situate myself observer of the routine.
A customary sunrise.
From darkness, I feel myself passing
through the blue hour into first blush
of dawn. The blue water of a new era.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/rebelwithafrog/3429651508/
Author's Note:
12:31 AM to 1:00am
About this blue water sunrise thing.
What’s behind the words? What do they really mean?
The darkness and the chilling breeze
was about as comfortable as strangers
milling about without acknowledgment.
It was dark and I was cold. There were people fishing in the dark who were cold. I said hey to a guy and he just stopped and stared at me without a word. There was just this blank acknowledgment between two people out on a pier, in the morning before the sun was up, without any conversation or nothing.
I’m out of typical with urgency bent.
I was doing something different in my grieving. Not because I wanted to. I felt as if I needed to.
Apart from anchored freight
I’m celebrating life without baggage.
In a way this is a visual metaphor for comparison and contrast between the ship anchored off the breakwater and me celebrating life without baggage. I mean, even after years of dealing with losing a brother, there’s still baggage. It was different to just anchor that baggage and, and do something different. To realize at some point in my journey that I may leave it behind.
I have no idea what to expect
But I felt like I needed to become evident
Just do it, even if you don’t have planned expectations and outcomes. Life is not like that. You know, if, if I never went down to the pier to photograph the sunrise, this, this wouldn’t have happened. This would have never happened. I would have done the same thing.
An occasional seagull passes by
I was there from darkness well into the morning. That is a long time to stare at something. There were many yawns and many glances around. There were many different birds doing the same thing at different times; passing by.
The waves continue to sound regardless.
And I don’t mean the…, the waves sound regardless as in they just keep going on making sounds no matter what. They sound regardless in the sense that they continue to make sounds like they just don’t care. They don’t care. That’s what I mean. No matter what, time keeps going.
And variations of a theme are practiced
Habitual and ritual throughout time, both in art, and in life, practice desires growth. In order to flourish, art and life must be active. Art and life are growing entities that needs to be cultivated...; brown crunchy leaves don't flourish even when they're still attached to the tree.
Aside from now, this morning,
as I situate myself observer of the routine
I’m doing something different. I watched something routine out of my routine.
A customary sunrise.
An exercise on how not to take this moment in my life for granted. With a glance it is just an image of a sunrise. Watching the evolution of the sunrise from darkness to blinding light, through moments of varied colors and slightly different tones, causes me to reflect upon my mood in a positive way. The sunrise happens every day. As many of them as I have watched, they are not all the same. Therein gives rise to the variations of a theme. The composure and aplomb between nature and self; above the fog and clouds, above the snow, above the rain, the sun shines. I consider that a gift.
From darkness, I feel myself passing
through the blue hour into first blush of dawn.
The blue hour is twilight. It is neither full darkness nor complete daylight and exists about an hour before the sun rises above the horizon and an hour after it sets on the horizon. This is an amazing time of day. If there is ever a way that being vivid could be subtle, then this is it. I couldn’t put my finger on the moment, but I could feel feeling different. The change in perspective was vivid and yet very subtle.
The blue water of a new era.
Things on the horizon are a bit altered and may not appear as I once knew them. There is a swelling freshness to the aroma of exploration. The changes that reveal themselves in time could be plenteous. I see this new stage of grief as a new era.
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