What does it take, to cultivate the awareness of unceasing movements?
Momentariness has always been involved.
Does it evoke fear and urgency when the movements are made apparent? Or can you move with increased ease, knowing the nature of what looks like your body?
I detect a fondness for sea stacks from the alertness felt on my skin, a physical focus like cold air’s invasion in deep snow. In the moment of seeing I’m free.
Eroded headlands, transformed from caves. Traces of movements viewed as singular.
Some are associated with maidens, rock holding losses, the women watching over a story about death and catastrophe.
Death memorialised in landscape, ringing through its own erosion, undetectable in stillness.
We hiked the Orbost to McLeod Maiden route without knowing. Not having brought any food we resorted to harvesting primrose and its young leaves. Nuttiness dosed with a taste of citric acid, alongside rationed water for 11 miles. Shared exhaustion did not prevent our collie warning us loudly of the walkers using sticks, something opened when we crossed multiple burns without stumbling.
A complete and unrestricted openness, everything existed evenly. Temporal attributes transcended through sunlit forest, directional positioning anchored in sore feet.
A lot of moments were raised into presence, not been bothered to involve in conflicts. Those who were included in the moments were also present. What is absent, is the chewing of time, of their meaning and potential indicators.
I peeked into the supremeness of elephant's footprint in scale, of impermanence in embodiment.
Death experienced as a first time thing, perhaps that’s what the mother and daughters looking out over Loch Bracadale evoke. At the tip of Duirinish peninsula, when height gained over ocean surface, openness felt in the body renders everything a primary.
photos: AX Archive
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