fordy's web of words

Eternal still

Eternal still
Standing,
sentinal of the way;
still marker of
The Choice
and of every choice.

A cross-road of decision
beyond which life lies
in all its fullness
and beauty.

Still drinking

Sit, world
while I stop and drink
while I try to absorb
just an atom
of this expanse

Don't
lead me back
to a noisy busyness
until I have drunk
my fill of this stillness

Be still
while I embrace
or am embraced
by the vastness
of this place

Still now

Up
  Beyond the hum of power-line
    the deceitful convenience
      of hot water and metalled road
Where life takes off its genteel gloves
  and stands in its rudeness
    demanding to be seen
      for what it is.

There, it is Still

Not the stillness of inactivity
  but something deeper;
    a stillness of time
Where today is yesterday again
  where the misted mountains
    enclose an eternal Now

There, I am still with You

Island of still

Even in the city rush,
amidst the deadlines
and demands of the markers of time
(relentless in the accounting of each second)
even there,
are islands of still
waiting to be entered.
Carefully.
Gently.
Quietly.
As into a holy place
where we might discover
if we could but be still
and know Him
who waits in the stillness
to be known.

Still Waiting

Sun sinking
    Bush burning
        Lake sighing

Mountains guarding
    Pathway leading
        You waiting

Patient.
    Unmoving.
        Changeless.

Can I be still
    that I may enter your stillness?

Still

To be still.
    To stop
        and be alive to my
            resting.

To float
    on the surface of life
        and know the rhythm
            of its breathing.

To be
    To become
        To belong
            In my stillness.

A thousand words worth

Sixteen or sixty? Say both words with less than perfect enunciation and they can be mistaken for each other. And if, in my sixtieth year, I look at my life from the corner of one eye, I can almost believe that I am sixteen again.

At sixteen my passion was photography. It was a passion played out on a budget, with cobbled together darkroom equipment in a bedroom blacked out with plastic sheets and prints rinsing in the bath. It was a passion that I wanted to be a profession. Perhaps I didn't want it bad enough, but in 1964 no one wanted an apprentice photographer and so I became a draughtsman in the construction industry and, eventually, migrated to the IT business.

Somewhere along the journey I married and, with the advent of a family, I lost the darkroom and, as the family grew, my camera bags began to shrink. As the equipment shrunk so did my passion for photography. Then, around 1998, I laid hands on my first digital camera. After a thirty-four year downward slide a ten year climb back started and now, in my sixtieth year (and my sixth digital camera) I am producing pictures again - perhaps not great pictures, but good enough to be better than those from 1964.

In his "Last Lecture", Randy Pausch talked a lot about realising one's childhood dreams - he realised a lot of his and he helped a lot of other people realise theirs. And my point is this - its never too late - my dream may have had to wait for forty-four years, but it almost feels like I am sixteen again, and loving it.

So, don't be surprised if I plonk down a few pictures on these pages. My excuse? Of course, each one must be worth a thousand words! Here are two thousand from the other day:

Location: Castle Hill, Canterbury, New Zealand. It was a brilliantly sunny day in the middle of spring. The last snows were melting from the mountains and the scene was almost monochrome, except for the lone walker in red. So I turned the picture into black and white but maintained the splash of colour, centre frame. (Nikon D80 - f9 @ 1/125 sec, 100mm zoom)

On the same day, I rounded a corner to find my daughter taking in the view:

(Nikon D80 - f7.1 @ 1/320 sec, 44mm zoom)

A change of heart

I have had a rethink about posting photographs in this writing blog. It was certainly an easy way to provide a varied diet; but is that what you want? If you are heavily into writing, then pictures might not be your thing. On the other hand, if you are a photographer, would you really want to wade through all those words for the occasional picture? Probably not. This was a classic case of not considering the audience before launching out; a big 'no, no' for any writer.

So, dear readers, I have decided to focus on doing both things well, rather than both badly. From today, no more pictures in the writing blog. Instead, I have decided to serialise the novel I have been working on, "Past Life". Two reasons, serialising it will help me finish the editing and ensure that I have a completed story. Secondly, I started this story two years ago as a futuristic crime thriller (or something) and already real life is starting to eat away at my story line; so better publish soon.

The second thing I have done is start "fordy's photo blog" - no words, just pictures. Well, not quite true; each picture has a title and some technical information about the picture, but that is it. You can find "fordy's photo blog" at: www.photos.fords.co.nz or use the link at the top right of the front page. Enjoy.