Impaired Seeing

My prejudices, my residual hurts, my fears tend to colour everything I see. To awaken my consciouness to the nature of all these things enables the curtain to be lifted and for me to see more clearly. Life has much to do with the filters through which we see it.

Autumn

A walk in a park

The beauty of Autumn so overwhelms me. Before the letting go and the inevitable floating descent, the leaves offer such a profusion of colour and form. What a way for them to die!

Reflection

As evening falls and the day slowly ends, I often find myself reflecting on the events of the day. I mine these events for their gold, and also for their impurities. Contemplating in this way tends to prevent me from unconsciously skipping through my day.

A Church

Stepped into a thousand year old church today; dark, musty and full of ghosts of the past; but it was the immense stillness which was so poignant and so beautifully overwhelming.

Yellow

Someone shared seeing the colour yellow in a way he had never experienced yellow before. I had a dream sometime ago where I saw the colour blue in a way I had never seen blue before. I wonder if there’s a reality beyond us, the beauty of which we can only catch brief glimpses of?

The Sea

An image I took while walking along the Dorset Coastline

The sea has this almost coy and playful relationship with the shoreline. The touching and the running away always reminds me of some eternal children’s game of “last touch.”

Nature and Technology

I took my little dog for his walk this morning. The weather turned ominous and I just had to photograph this scene. It somehow symbolised for me nature alongside technology, and whether the two are able to live in harmony with one another.

Harvest Time

Harvest time in the fields around us

The barley fields have been harvested. There comes a time in life when you begin to harvest your memories and live comfortably with the wheat and the chaff.

The Past

Sissinghurst Gardens

I sat in the garden embraced by the evening light, pondering on the day’s experiences. Where does the past go? Does it simply melt away like morning mist in the rising sun, or does it pass into a mysterious, invisible and universal library to be referenced for some great, cosmic recollection; or is it destined to travel endlessly around some karmic circle repeating itself over and over again. I’m not sure, but the one thing I am sure of is that this too will pass.