Stop Children what´s that sound?

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Who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscovered country from whose bourn

No traveler returns, puzzles the will

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all. – Shakespeare Hamlet: Act 3 Sc 1 Pg 4

 

When I was a young boy I would climb up the tallest tree in my garden, teetering on the smallest branch at the very top I could see way beyond the man on the street. That tree was cut down and I lost my sight, my view.

 

There seems to be much speculation of our ancestors, who we are, what makes us and why do we seem to be on a speeding train on the fast track to oblivion. Brakes failed. Shall we sit on that train for a moment, see what we might be able to do to stop the disaster, or shall we not bother? During the years I grew up I would notice vehicles in fields, burnt out, wrecked, written off. I understood that some enjoy the thrill of stealing a vehicle, taking it for a jolly, causing a bit of havoc, bumps, scrapes, chases with the law. But in order to get away and leave no trace, the modus operandi seemed to be burn it and run, escape on foot, so to speak.

 

When we´re young, we are fearless, but as we grow we notice that our traditional beliefs alter, change and sometimes this can cause our minds to wobble, the rug pulled from under and our minds shattered.

 

It seems the grief we find within us turns us away from many things that we quite possibly should strive to endorse, but when you do you own walk, you own journey, what do you find?

 

I find the greatest things in life are free. But for some reason I feel that we humans may never be free, if one places your head above the parapet or you pierce a veil what do you usually find?

 

On my 11th birthday I took part in a race, it was for a good cause, it was called, “Run the World”, I went with my Foster-Father and Foster-Sister for it took place at the school where he taught Physics. I´d always loved to run, the long distance runner was never alone. When the race started my sister and I took off, I stayed up at the front of the field, a boy with the professionals. For some reason that day my mood was bright, the day was grand, it was the day I had been born many years ago, my sister shouting from behind, “Go On Ant”, I had sat with the front pack for the majority of the time, grown men encouraging a little lad to keep going, marvelling at the lightness of his feet. The final stretch, I looked for the one who would take the charge, as my eyes looked up, angels who had been running with me from the very beginning looked at me and with love and pride in their eyes, they said, “Go on Kid.”

 

I flew, the wind sailed, the sun shone, my feet, the exact same ones you have took me over the finish line.

 

Not long after that I left my foster family, returned to live with my mother, I never won another race, my feet were heavier than they were, my heart wasn´t in it, even calls of encouragement would falter my step, I´d loose my balance.

 

I was in the wilderness and the jungle can be a pretty scarey place, open to allsorts. You can even lose your way.

 

Many years later, with a head full of regrets and tears that would flow I found myself knocking on the home of my foster family, I noticed the tree I used to climb had been chopped down. Quite symbolic of the blindness I had felt.

 

They didn´t live there anymore.

 

My foster father was a clever, clever man, but he also had a temper, there were times a hammer would be put through the screen of television, I knew of three. But he also sat in a chair and wrote in a langauge I couldn´t understand, it was all Greek to me, or maybe even geek

 

Personally I think the family are Hitch Hikers of the Galaxy, but that´s another story.

 

I was recently thinking about his outbursts regarding the TV and I looked at it this way, an older generation who worked with their hands, were studious, intelligent would see a generation sitting in front of a box, slowly but surely being spoon fed whatever delights of the mind they could manifest. Then the internet took off and hey presto, knowledge at your fingertips, words from another, lives ran by machines, dependent on them.

 

Do you know what Henrik Ibsen´s last words were? He said, “On the Contrary.” or “Tvert Imot”

 

Maybe Henrik was a time traveller telling you that the TV will hurt your eyes, you need an eye MOT.

 

But we´re connected to even more, it´s great the eyes have opened and nothing can be hidden from us anymore. If that is your battle cry then, have a look in the mirror and have a word with yourself. Your eyes have been focused on a little black box, you don´t even go out anymore, you live digitally and then you scoff at implanting a microchip.

 

There is no fast track, no short cut, you cannot even begin to claim you´ve reached the top when you haven´t changed, re-newed, re-established contact. But who are you contacting?

 

I´ve been wondering about the lost tribe recently, are you lost?

 

If you are, you can be found, because everthing you do is a play. Once you have discovered this and it is revealed to you, you will understand. You may need to learn your lines, but not to worry, we´ll have a few rehearsals, so you can get to know the players, the cast.

 

Never lose sight that for a mantle to balance correctly it needs two pillars, or that in the hierarchy of needs once all men, women and children have shelter, food, water, work, we all move up to the next level. A change of status or a limited comment won´t work, you may aswell skim a stone, it will eventually sink. But even that stone, however long it takes will return to the shoreline, even a little more polished. Then the difference between words and actions become blazingly clear.

 

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

 

And I could talk the hind legs off a donkey. 

 

I have nothing to sell, nor would I wish to influence anyone, I just went for a walk in times of trouble and I took photo´s. Have a look yourself, make up your own mind. www.redivider.photography