Wednesday, 1 October 2014

Fractured. Minds, not limbs.

Fractured hearts.  
Fractured lives.  
Fractured minds.
I could so easily give in to the chaos in my mind
the chaos in my life.  
There are moments when it overwhelms me.  
When it seems easier to give up on all that I believe in.
Life won’t let me though.
Those in my heart are worth so much more than that.

Yesterday morning's cloud filled skies
That morning sun-rise breathes new energy into every fibre of my being as we head to the beach.  
It takes 20 minutes or so to walk there from The Flat @ No. 14.  
The hound doesn’t always understand the sense of urgency as I rush her past the intriguing scents from the evening before.  
They’ll be time enough for scent investigation on the ramble home.  
The sun-rise waits for no-one
This morning's clear skies
As the dawn chorus serenades the waking sun I sense the joy they so raucously vocalise. 
THIS is how EVERY day should begin. 
THIS is how fractured hearts and fractured minds can be healed.
It’s a different perspective of the sunrise when seen from Kohi Beach.  
Still beautiful.  
But different.
There are the usual early morning ramblers out enjoying the sunrise as I am.  
They shout their morning greetings down to the hound and I as we slip slide over the mudflats..
It’s low tide so the hound and I are getting down and dirty.
Nothing new there.

Not one of the more usual aerial objects I see on a morning ramble
We pass the time of day with Gordon as he strides down the road.
He’s heading out to visit the SO this afternoon.  
Gordon and Rae were our neighbours when we lived in Waimarie Street and they’ve become wonderful friends, despite the difference in our ages.  
There's been no judgement of the SO's misdemeanour from them at all, just wholehearted acceptance and love.
For all of us.
They epitomise what’s right about this world I now inhabit.
Wednesdays mean work so our ramble has to end earlier than what the hound or I would like. 
There’s a long drawn out sigh as I clip the leash on her collar.
She’d far rather wade through the rock pools a little longer.
So would I.

Be like the single blade of grass. For she too, has been trampled on, mowed down, and hit with such bitterly cold stretches that she had to shut down to survive. Yet still she stands upright with dignity, knowing that she endures, and that she still dances with the wind.” 
— Sandra Kring
Part of my new route home

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