MUSIC TOMORROW FRIDAY 12TH JUNE!
I'm playing at 5 CHURCH STREET tomorrow night! opening for Yhan Leal Music's exciting new album launch for "Wilderness". I'll be kicking off proceedings at around 6:45pm.
Come down for good music and food, it'd be great to see you all there.
ALSO CHECK out my Soundcloud and download the single I just recorded. =)
https://soundcloud.com/tyler-parkes/papa-said
Thursday, 11 June 2015
Wednesday, 26 March 2014
Saturday, 8 March 2014
When silence is not enough. Speak. - something I wrote in collusion with Ludlum's address to Tony Abbot.
If you've ever read anything I've written, please read this...for it may have all been for nought if you don't.
If you typically ignore my posts, be forewarned: This post contains pixilated symbols for sounds in particular arrangements to create words in a text format. Each amalgamation as difficult and stinging as it's predecessor, and it has all been done to convey something so blatantly simple as an idea.
I'm sending this to you citizens of a divided world, I'm sending this to you skeptics of australian ethics and beliefs, I'm sending this to you foreign friends and acquaintances. I'm sending this to you, to the citizens of this country who are my friends.
I'm sending this to all of you who may perhaps carry the largest burden anyone can hold for a country, who's leaders make mistakes. The burden of hope, that those mistakes will not be repeated.
I send this because I hope this speech is the most disillusioning experience of politics you ever have. A great gift, a freeing from the bars of illusion, an illusion which makes you wonder if there are any good people in the political sector who speak for change. People who call out the political and corporate elite puppets for their duplicitous and "kind of revolting" workings.
A young senator from minnesota said "Being in politics is like being a football coach. You have to be smart enough to understand the game, and dumb enough to think it's important.."
And while I agree this is definitely accurate for some of the "blundering and technically illiterate" puppets in parliament. There are others who've retained their promise to the public as our voice - this is an example of one such individual. He puts it on the line, political capital, comfort, future, his stake at this "game"; because he realises that the day he is afraid to do so, to make that sacrifice, to speak up for what is right and just, is the day he is no longer fit to speak on behalf of the children of this country, on behalf of his fellow citizens and most importantly on the behalf of the capital consumerist and corporately considered global bank which since about 1880 has been in a constant state of "Heist". (yes I'm referring to the place we live, a place where a long term deposit is a ridiculous, non-progressive, and counter-profitable idea.) Yeah, earth.
Do not fret or worry...he is not the only one. These people see politics for what it really is, and for what it can be. They understand that sometimes the illusion of the game only goes as far as you let it, and when you get to the end of your tether, you can either tie a knot and hold on…Or you can let go of this erroneous deceitful facade and say what needs to be said. This speech is an example of letting go of the game, Ludlum presents it from the eyes of a spectator for all of us who may carry the burden of hope, as an offering that...it's okay, and this too shall pass, so I invite you to take a load off, we're not alone.
Keep thinking, keeping talking and most of all keep spreading the awareness of the "awkward" course we're being lead on; because while it must be noted that every human "can make mistakes, only an idiot persists in their error."- Cicero.
If you typically ignore my posts, be forewarned: This post contains pixilated symbols for sounds in particular arrangements to create words in a text format. Each amalgamation as difficult and stinging as it's predecessor, and it has all been done to convey something so blatantly simple as an idea.
I'm sending this to you citizens of a divided world, I'm sending this to you skeptics of australian ethics and beliefs, I'm sending this to you foreign friends and acquaintances. I'm sending this to you, to the citizens of this country who are my friends.
I'm sending this to all of you who may perhaps carry the largest burden anyone can hold for a country, who's leaders make mistakes. The burden of hope, that those mistakes will not be repeated.
I send this because I hope this speech is the most disillusioning experience of politics you ever have. A great gift, a freeing from the bars of illusion, an illusion which makes you wonder if there are any good people in the political sector who speak for change. People who call out the political and corporate elite puppets for their duplicitous and "kind of revolting" workings.
A young senator from minnesota said "Being in politics is like being a football coach. You have to be smart enough to understand the game, and dumb enough to think it's important.."
And while I agree this is definitely accurate for some of the "blundering and technically illiterate" puppets in parliament. There are others who've retained their promise to the public as our voice - this is an example of one such individual. He puts it on the line, political capital, comfort, future, his stake at this "game"; because he realises that the day he is afraid to do so, to make that sacrifice, to speak up for what is right and just, is the day he is no longer fit to speak on behalf of the children of this country, on behalf of his fellow citizens and most importantly on the behalf of the capital consumerist and corporately considered global bank which since about 1880 has been in a constant state of "Heist". (yes I'm referring to the place we live, a place where a long term deposit is a ridiculous, non-progressive, and counter-profitable idea.) Yeah, earth.
Do not fret or worry...he is not the only one. These people see politics for what it really is, and for what it can be. They understand that sometimes the illusion of the game only goes as far as you let it, and when you get to the end of your tether, you can either tie a knot and hold on…Or you can let go of this erroneous deceitful facade and say what needs to be said. This speech is an example of letting go of the game, Ludlum presents it from the eyes of a spectator for all of us who may carry the burden of hope, as an offering that...it's okay, and this too shall pass, so I invite you to take a load off, we're not alone.
Keep thinking, keeping talking and most of all keep spreading the awareness of the "awkward" course we're being lead on; because while it must be noted that every human "can make mistakes, only an idiot persists in their error."- Cicero.
Tuesday, 5 November 2013
substances that alter the mind, are really decisions that can alter your life.
Options for this storyA whirlwind of days. I'm in aus, playing music with the band, surfing and picking up the threads of an old life. This morning at 6 am there was a man lying in some irises half on the road by my house, suspected full spinal, and I treated it as such, he could not feel his legs. He was intoxicated and fell off an embankment. Please be careful, live an examined life, we can only fix so much…the rest you have to live with and so do I.
Saturday, 28 September 2013
Some things miss the skin.
I've been wearing a ring around the middle finger on my right hand for almost a year and unfortunately due to a random turn of events, have lost it. Yet it still feels as though it's still there. Shadow pains? Who knows...What I do know is that I'm currently sitting in a cafe on a rainy day; planning a route up a mountain that doesn't look particularly comforting, thinking about a flight home which feels like an age away, wondering whether I've lost my way or if the trail behind me is the only line to be left on this palm. Truthfully, a year of apprehension. Something I've never been particularly use to. The years I've spent prior to this one wandering these open roads have always been less calculated, less thought out. It's not that this year lacks spontaneity but it's more that I've developed the eyes and foresight to see when throwing caution to the wind is worth it, and when it is not. You've got to temper all of your thinking to the point that you may not be doing the right thing, because you're bound to make mistakes. The idea is to minimise those mistakes. Because out here. A mistake can mean life or death. You can't cross a chasm in two small jumps. Makesure you've got the space to run so that when you take that great leap you'll find earth beneath yearning toes.
I came here with a goal. To find a deep ingrained connection with the land I'm standing upon, with the river that brings life, with the howls of wolves, the meandering footprints of the bear, the undulating run of the Chinook. I've found these things. Wolves have slept by my fire, I've ran at a bear to see and perhaps feel it's reaction. I've even followed the gnarled back of a sitka to it's top, to find what Muir found when he weathered a storm in the highest reaches of a tree. But despite all of these things, I've not yet found myself. A constant unravelling no doubt, but one that keeps me missing the skin. Missing where I should be, what the next step is...I've looked in the high country hidden in the glacial caverns, above the eskers of a past never to be found again. Deep in the rushing streams found at the confluence of curiosity and the cracking of a crevasse.
The way has not been in vain, this trip just like every one before it has not been in vain. I've found, something solid enough to stand on, the largest rocks of this earth. Friendship. The rocks must always be accounted for, as they take up the large spaces in our hearts. The pebbles of passion can find their way to piece in the gaps. The sands of stress may seep their way into the last vacant portions of even the fullest of hearts, regardless of the certainty's from the rocks of friendship and the pebbles of passion occupying full capacity. Yet, the soothing nature of the sand is that it can be changed, it can be altered to hold the beauty of our identity. A heart filled with stones, pebbles and sand will always have room for what we are all made of, the last 50-65% of us, the mutable seasons of water.
There will always be another ring to find it's place on my finger, there will always be another journey to fuel my imagination and another set of footprints leading to where I find myself. But aslong as these stones are placed well, aslong as the pebbles between them hold me to my path. As long as the depth of the water of my being can find the roots of those grains of concern, As long as in those depths I can find an iota of peace. Then, I will continue to find comfort in the fact that everything will come to unfold exactly as it does. Continue to stay like the water of the river I've learnt soo well, moving around the stones, between the fallen trees, escaping the stagnant states of the oxbow - of a known pool for the masses which hold only the emptiest of hearts. Winding it's way beyond all of that, to find exactly what it's looking for, the Sea. It's changed state, where I belong.
I came here with a goal. To find a deep ingrained connection with the land I'm standing upon, with the river that brings life, with the howls of wolves, the meandering footprints of the bear, the undulating run of the Chinook. I've found these things. Wolves have slept by my fire, I've ran at a bear to see and perhaps feel it's reaction. I've even followed the gnarled back of a sitka to it's top, to find what Muir found when he weathered a storm in the highest reaches of a tree. But despite all of these things, I've not yet found myself. A constant unravelling no doubt, but one that keeps me missing the skin. Missing where I should be, what the next step is...I've looked in the high country hidden in the glacial caverns, above the eskers of a past never to be found again. Deep in the rushing streams found at the confluence of curiosity and the cracking of a crevasse.
The way has not been in vain, this trip just like every one before it has not been in vain. I've found, something solid enough to stand on, the largest rocks of this earth. Friendship. The rocks must always be accounted for, as they take up the large spaces in our hearts. The pebbles of passion can find their way to piece in the gaps. The sands of stress may seep their way into the last vacant portions of even the fullest of hearts, regardless of the certainty's from the rocks of friendship and the pebbles of passion occupying full capacity. Yet, the soothing nature of the sand is that it can be changed, it can be altered to hold the beauty of our identity. A heart filled with stones, pebbles and sand will always have room for what we are all made of, the last 50-65% of us, the mutable seasons of water.
There will always be another ring to find it's place on my finger, there will always be another journey to fuel my imagination and another set of footprints leading to where I find myself. But aslong as these stones are placed well, aslong as the pebbles between them hold me to my path. As long as the depth of the water of my being can find the roots of those grains of concern, As long as in those depths I can find an iota of peace. Then, I will continue to find comfort in the fact that everything will come to unfold exactly as it does. Continue to stay like the water of the river I've learnt soo well, moving around the stones, between the fallen trees, escaping the stagnant states of the oxbow - of a known pool for the masses which hold only the emptiest of hearts. Winding it's way beyond all of that, to find exactly what it's looking for, the Sea. It's changed state, where I belong.
Monday, 26 August 2013
End of the Road Culture.
I find myself currently sitting in the same seat I wrote the previous post in, Breakers Cafe Tofino. I feel like an old tired but stoked salty dog after a solid 6 hours perfect shoulder to head high waves at Cox today, the Alaia is being used. I'm still riding through the memories of the day in my head.
A couple more days here before I head back to the mainland and a mountain named Tricouni.
Shoots!
A couple more days here before I head back to the mainland and a mountain named Tricouni.
Shoots!
Tuesday, 30 July 2013
Tofitian living.
So right now I'm all salty sitting in a cafe writing to...no one really. Just had one of those sweet little early morning logging sessions that I've been dreaming about for the last month. now drinking coffee listening to some new tunes by Ed Sharpe and his zeroes. A few minutes ago I watched an interesting little clip on rasta, the guy seems to have the living part of life down pat. From fresh veggies in his garden to jam sessions in his TP, a beautiful wife and a wonderland of waves and forest to explore. If you'd like to check it out; you can find it here:
http://www.whatyouth.com/2013/07/17/fairly-normal-dave-rastovich/?id=10623
Also a brief update from the Duct tape invitational, Vans and the US Open of surfing; they've posted the "Ductumentary Trailer. Giving Homage to Joel Tudor an inspiration surfer, who's paved the way for alot of today's greatest long boarders.
Check it out here:
http://offthewall.tv/video/the_ductumentary_trailer#.UfgOyxb9vlJ
This trip to Tofino has been long awaited and I deinitely do feel a homecoming in being here. It's a mellow friendly place filled with good people who are completely authentic, they have surfing in their blood and smiles on their faces. I'm already excited to be heading back here at the end of the summer, and then again in the fall.
Who knows perhaps somewhere down the line I could wind up living here, atleast for a bit...who knows. I guess in a way I have to thank growing up in Sydney and a pretty populated oahu for my now yearning for the small things life has to offer from small towns to small crowds to all those simple things the rocks and roots, the important things.
I'll be off now to slackline, play guitar, skate and cook up a storm in the park down the road. If you want some lunch, there'll be some mean omelets and salad happening near a salty kid come and ask for some!
THis is what 5 hungry surfers look like after 7 hours of sliding. Tony's Pizza, a good way to end the day.
http://www.whatyouth.com/2013/07/17/fairly-normal-dave-rastovich/?id=10623
Also a brief update from the Duct tape invitational, Vans and the US Open of surfing; they've posted the "Ductumentary Trailer. Giving Homage to Joel Tudor an inspiration surfer, who's paved the way for alot of today's greatest long boarders.
Check it out here:
http://offthewall.tv/video/the_ductumentary_trailer#.UfgOyxb9vlJ
This trip to Tofino has been long awaited and I deinitely do feel a homecoming in being here. It's a mellow friendly place filled with good people who are completely authentic, they have surfing in their blood and smiles on their faces. I'm already excited to be heading back here at the end of the summer, and then again in the fall.
Who knows perhaps somewhere down the line I could wind up living here, atleast for a bit...who knows. I guess in a way I have to thank growing up in Sydney and a pretty populated oahu for my now yearning for the small things life has to offer from small towns to small crowds to all those simple things the rocks and roots, the important things.
I'll be off now to slackline, play guitar, skate and cook up a storm in the park down the road. If you want some lunch, there'll be some mean omelets and salad happening near a salty kid come and ask for some!
THis is what 5 hungry surfers look like after 7 hours of sliding. Tony's Pizza, a good way to end the day.
Sunday, 14 July 2013
Picking up the pen, over the sea from where I left it.
The moon has shown many faces since my last post on this and in the tides that wove me here much has taken place.
Currently I'm sitting in Zephyr Cafe in Squmish, BC, Canada. Another known hangout spot for beautiful creatures of the outdoors, us woodland folk.
The last 3 weeks I've been working furiously on many fronts. First as the section director at Summit, (an outdoor education centre in the squamish valley, and secondly creating programs for my Camps in australia. Add music, art, climbing, surfing and journaling and you've got a pretty full life. Abundance is a thing to be thankful for and I'm happy to be busy.
THe last 2 days have been joyfully bliss, a bit of climbing, paddleboarding, swimming, yoga, loads of music and time to my self.
Tomorrow I start up again for another 2 weeks non stop. And then? TOfino! I'll keep the posts rolling in and will ad photos whenever opportunity presents itself.
Saturday, 13 April 2013
GOod Music.
Last Night I was lucky enough to see Jordan miller and Jack Carty play at No 5 Church street in Bellingen. It was an incredible performance in the perfect atmosphere.
Watch out for these guys, they may be mum-walking their way near you.
Find tour dates and information about these two phenomenal musicians at their websites.
More information about their australian tour is available here:
Wednesday, 10 April 2013
Chasing the ICE.
When the work of someone motivates you to continue on the path you're already on. Discovering new wild places, a life in the outdoors; hearts held by the wild places of the world.
Get out there and do it, whatever it is that you really want to do; stop sitting making money that you'll "one day spend on the passion of your dreams", find a way to make the passion the fire of your life. It may not be easy but it may be the most rewarding thing you ever do.
Heading to the places where there is no wifi, forests and empty shorelines. off to find that little piece of wild.
Get out there and do it, whatever it is that you really want to do; stop sitting making money that you'll "one day spend on the passion of your dreams", find a way to make the passion the fire of your life. It may not be easy but it may be the most rewarding thing you ever do.
You can find more information about this incredible film and the waves the ice is creating at: http://www.chasingice.com
Heading to the places where there is no wifi, forests and empty shorelines. off to find that little piece of wild.
Wednesday, 3 April 2013
These are not my words but I do however find them...humorous. and truthful. Oh and by the way, I love New Zealand.
SOCIALISM
You have 2 cows. You give one to your neighbour
COMMUNISM
You have 2 cows. The State takes both and gives you some milk
FASCISM
You have 2 cows. The State takes both and sells you some milk
NAZISM
You have 2 cows. The State takes both and shoots you
BUREAUCRATISM
You have 2 cows. The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other, and then throws the milk away
TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM
You have two cows. You sell one and buy a bull. Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows. You sell them and retire on the income
ROYAL BANK OF SCOTLAND (VENTURE) CAPITALISM
You have two cows. You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax exemption for five cows. The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island Company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company. The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one more. You sell one cow to buy a new president of the United States , leaving you with nine cows. No balance sheet provided with the release. The public then buys your bull.
SURREALISM
You have two giraffes. The government requires you to take harmonica lessons.
AN AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows. You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows. Later, you hire a consultant to analyse why the cow has dropped dead.
A GREEK CORPORATION
You have two cows. You borrow lots of euros to build barns, milking sheds, hay stores, feed sheds, dairies , cold stores, abattoir, cheese unit and packing sheds. You still only have two cows.
A FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows. You go on strike, organise a riot, and block the roads, because you want three cows.
A JAPANESE CORPORATION
You have two cows. You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk. You then create a clever cow cartoon image called a Cow kimona and market it worldwide.
AN ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows, but you don't know where they are. You decide to have lunch.
A SWISS CORPORATION
You have 5000 cows. None of them belong to you. You charge the owners for storing them.
A CHINESE CORPORATION
You have two cows. You have 300 people milking them. You claim that you have full employment, and high bovine productivity. You arrest the newsman who reported the real situation.
AN INDIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows. You worship them.
A BRITISH CORPORATION
You have two cows. Both are mad.
AN IRAQI CORPORATION
Everyone thinks you have lots of cows. You tell them that you have none. No-one believes you, so they bomb the ** out of you and invade your country. You still have no cows, but at least you are now a Democracy.
AN AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows. Business seems pretty good. You close the office and go for a few beers to celebrate.
A NEW ZEALAND CORPORATION
You have two cows. The one on the left looks very attractive.
Thursday, 14 March 2013
Honestly, is honesty only scripted these days?
Amongst the array of emails littering my inbox every once and a while something catches my eye. Last night, a video clip of a man's unobscured perception of the journey of his country from aspiring to intelligence to belittling it. It was striking, beautifully put and flawlessly scripted. I do realise however that while this speech wasn't as real as you want it to be...It did exist in a writers head and now? well now it'll be airing on the Tv show, "The Newsroom"; which is easily accessible via your remote buried somewhere in the couch halfway between the pizza crust from god knows when and an assortment of rise krispies which have lost all audibility of snap crackle and pop. You however can still make a noise. Just like the writer of this show. Cry, applaud, react whichever way sees fit, but most of all inspire yourself to make ripples in the doldrums of disillusionment that you inhabit.
Tuesday, 19 February 2013
This is Where I am.
A morning of stormy seas bobbing up and down like a cork on my plank of timber. A select few surfers find the beauty in the ocean when it's like this. I feel if you love someone you must love every part of them, the anger, the silence, the laughter, finding beauty in both their flaws and strengths.
THe handfull of us sat apart, finding that iota of peace in the vacancies between deep breaths. She had all of us there, still, captivated by her fluid emotion, all spontaneous and real.
These are the moments I live for, these are the moments I'm living, these are the moments that are life.
I don't think there are many people in this world that have found this place. because if there are...why do they live soo blindly, they end up either eyelesss in the darkness or blinded by the light.
On the OTHER FoOT, I Just watcHEd GroUndSWell. I couldn't recommend it highly enough; so watch it and see it for yourself and perhaps you'll be able to find the words which have escaped me.
THe handfull of us sat apart, finding that iota of peace in the vacancies between deep breaths. She had all of us there, still, captivated by her fluid emotion, all spontaneous and real.
These are the moments I live for, these are the moments I'm living, these are the moments that are life.
I don't think there are many people in this world that have found this place. because if there are...why do they live soo blindly, they end up either eyelesss in the darkness or blinded by the light.
On the OTHER FoOT, I Just watcHEd GroUndSWell. I couldn't recommend it highly enough; so watch it and see it for yourself and perhaps you'll be able to find the words which have escaped me.
Sunday, 27 January 2013
Friday, 25 January 2013
Thursday, 24 January 2013
How will you look back on this?
Each passing moment, we live...working, playing, loving, laughing, in anger, pain, happiness, sorrow and beauty. What will you question, what will you regret?
Time spent with someone, were you listening? were you really paying attention. what brought you here, who brought you here? do they know that you're grateful for they're patience? for their unfailing persistence?
Live a little more, regret a little less.
Time spent with someone, were you listening? were you really paying attention. what brought you here, who brought you here? do they know that you're grateful for they're patience? for their unfailing persistence?
Live a little more, regret a little less.
Wednesday, 23 January 2013
Tuesday, 15 January 2013
The hand you play.
This is a message I wrote today after reading an article on bullying. I had a friend whose ship sank.
I guess in a way this message is to them just as much as it is to anyone who may suffer at the hands of sorrow and the unkind.
Mahalo
-Tyler
The sun rose today, it found it's time and...rose.
As if the flower of it's awakening was gilded with an eagerness to prove itself against a backdrop of a sullen sleepy sky.
To show to everyone that, hey...I bring enlightenment.
Who didn't rise today...
What was there reason for not doing so...
Not everything has to be explained.
Somethings need only happen.
And yet we walk through this earth with our eyes closed.
Flexing our faces in front of a mirror, as if to prove to ourselves that we're beautiful.
But if you can't love yourself then no one will hear your heartbeat echo.
Kindness
A way of life,
With a seemingly synonymous nature to happiness,
something people pursue.
We all hope we can find it in ourselves to be kind to those around us,
that maybe this time, we'll give them a smile, a wave...
That perhaps even though they may be different, or strangers in our eyes,
that we will treat them as equals, with love and compassion,
regardless of religion or faith or fact.
The people who didn't rise...listened, there ears wide open,
as if hope's middle name was maybe and maybe they could hear you say...thank you
Everything has it's season,
there is a time to weep, a time to laugh, a time for sorrow a time for joy
there is a time for all things but everything has it's season.
We cannot help but change,
just as the leaves will change colour and come loose in the fall,
doesn't mean we can't rake them up...
Put those cards of our past in a pile,
to set and deal against that rising sun.
And the shadows they cast on the ground,
will line the shopfronts of that lane we call memory.
That cobblestone road winding down that hopefully leads to more than just heartache.
For those people that don't rise.
Perhaps just ask them to sit, graciously.
Or sit yourself, and maybe through the realisation that you do care and perhaps might stay a while,
they'll gather their strength and give you a smile.
It is important to know what to stand for, sometimes sitting is a good option.
Because I will not stand for this. I will not stand for a playwright preparing your script with pills, suppose to sink sorrow as if it were an iceberg to a hard-ship. Do they think it's cool? Because sadness burns when it hits turning your life into the paradox of theseus's ship, wandering what will be left of you if you replace every board and plank of timber with something new.
Send yourself a lifeboat,
Let it tug you away from their avenue of attack,
to awaken from this cobblestone street scape of the past to a present from now, where you may rise with the sun...
We look back down that lane called memory and we find a shopfront painted yellow,
Bright even against that dawning sun.
A memory of a time long gone, when you were in the spotlight, when you had everything,
seemingly all you needed. You kept the audience stapled to their seats, and they watched, searching for vacancies to occupy in the spaces between your heartbeats, as if silence is a room for rent and we all went, Shhhhh.
The beats themselves drowned out the applause.
You awoke, but they did not rise.
Staring at the ceiling, wishing that perhaps something could make it colourful
something could bring it back to life, and in turn lend you a helping hand, a crutch to lean on.
because shoulders to lean on are hard to come by these days;
Crawling your way through that shipwrecked haze...
A rich banker may go to work,
and lock himself in a vault just to feel that he has value.
Let your smile send a tremor, an earthquake to crumble those walls
and bring that vault to destruction, finding him amongst the rubble, unharmed...laughing.
As if you'd given him that standing ovation he soo yearned for.
Sometimes crutches aren't good enough, there are days when you have to give them wings,
so they may soar into the higher reachers of this world and detach from the shadow of expectation.
For to expect the season to end,
is to except that you've done all you can.
Live on.
People do care.
Perhaps it's now time for everyone to go around telling each person how beautiful they are,
so maybe in the subtle reflexes of the morning light you'll realise it for yourself.
you'll look at the mirror and smile
not at your own reflection...
but with it.
For this vault is merely a box, a case, you can play with,
finding combinations that work and starving that exterior until there is nothing left.
There is always something left.
But Perhaps it's time to share that combination and let the precious commodity of who you are out...
Play an open hand and paint that ceiling with the colours you discover.
Put the abnormality of rising in the past and let the petals of that...Rose, be rimmed with the potential of being a titan.
Because you're done living on the corner of heartache and memory,
with a space large enough only to rest, in the close company of a muttered "in peace".
You've gathered up the sands of time and tossed them into the wind to be taken with the seasons of un-raked leaves.
Your time is now.
There is no rehearsal, and you don't need a soundcheck to hear the beating of your own heart.
It is on the mantle piece that you'll place that vault,
above a fire fuelled by closed hands of old cards that you gave to the sun.
And amidst the crackling of a road long gone...you'll hear it.
Because happinesses middle name is kind and you've been kind of waiting.
The lease is up.
Silence can no longer occupy the hollows of a heart healed by the words "I love you",
echoing off the walls of this hall, bought by unscripted lives, because?...we do.
We all do...And you don't need an encore.
Today the sun rose, and so did you.
I guess in a way this message is to them just as much as it is to anyone who may suffer at the hands of sorrow and the unkind.
Mahalo
-Tyler
The sun rose today, it found it's time and...rose.
As if the flower of it's awakening was gilded with an eagerness to prove itself against a backdrop of a sullen sleepy sky.
To show to everyone that, hey...I bring enlightenment.
Who didn't rise today...
What was there reason for not doing so...
Not everything has to be explained.
Somethings need only happen.
And yet we walk through this earth with our eyes closed.
Flexing our faces in front of a mirror, as if to prove to ourselves that we're beautiful.
But if you can't love yourself then no one will hear your heartbeat echo.
Kindness
A way of life,
With a seemingly synonymous nature to happiness,
something people pursue.
We all hope we can find it in ourselves to be kind to those around us,
that maybe this time, we'll give them a smile, a wave...
That perhaps even though they may be different, or strangers in our eyes,
that we will treat them as equals, with love and compassion,
regardless of religion or faith or fact.
The people who didn't rise...listened, there ears wide open,
as if hope's middle name was maybe and maybe they could hear you say...thank you
Everything has it's season,
there is a time to weep, a time to laugh, a time for sorrow a time for joy
there is a time for all things but everything has it's season.
We cannot help but change,
just as the leaves will change colour and come loose in the fall,
doesn't mean we can't rake them up...
Put those cards of our past in a pile,
to set and deal against that rising sun.
And the shadows they cast on the ground,
will line the shopfronts of that lane we call memory.
That cobblestone road winding down that hopefully leads to more than just heartache.
For those people that don't rise.
Perhaps just ask them to sit, graciously.
Or sit yourself, and maybe through the realisation that you do care and perhaps might stay a while,
they'll gather their strength and give you a smile.
It is important to know what to stand for, sometimes sitting is a good option.
Because I will not stand for this. I will not stand for a playwright preparing your script with pills, suppose to sink sorrow as if it were an iceberg to a hard-ship. Do they think it's cool? Because sadness burns when it hits turning your life into the paradox of theseus's ship, wandering what will be left of you if you replace every board and plank of timber with something new.
Send yourself a lifeboat,
Let it tug you away from their avenue of attack,
to awaken from this cobblestone street scape of the past to a present from now, where you may rise with the sun...
We look back down that lane called memory and we find a shopfront painted yellow,
Bright even against that dawning sun.
A memory of a time long gone, when you were in the spotlight, when you had everything,
seemingly all you needed. You kept the audience stapled to their seats, and they watched, searching for vacancies to occupy in the spaces between your heartbeats, as if silence is a room for rent and we all went, Shhhhh.
The beats themselves drowned out the applause.
You awoke, but they did not rise.
Staring at the ceiling, wishing that perhaps something could make it colourful
something could bring it back to life, and in turn lend you a helping hand, a crutch to lean on.
because shoulders to lean on are hard to come by these days;
Crawling your way through that shipwrecked haze...
A rich banker may go to work,
and lock himself in a vault just to feel that he has value.
Let your smile send a tremor, an earthquake to crumble those walls
and bring that vault to destruction, finding him amongst the rubble, unharmed...laughing.
As if you'd given him that standing ovation he soo yearned for.
Sometimes crutches aren't good enough, there are days when you have to give them wings,
so they may soar into the higher reachers of this world and detach from the shadow of expectation.
For to expect the season to end,
is to except that you've done all you can.
Live on.
People do care.
Perhaps it's now time for everyone to go around telling each person how beautiful they are,
so maybe in the subtle reflexes of the morning light you'll realise it for yourself.
you'll look at the mirror and smile
not at your own reflection...
but with it.
For this vault is merely a box, a case, you can play with,
finding combinations that work and starving that exterior until there is nothing left.
There is always something left.
But Perhaps it's time to share that combination and let the precious commodity of who you are out...
Play an open hand and paint that ceiling with the colours you discover.
Put the abnormality of rising in the past and let the petals of that...Rose, be rimmed with the potential of being a titan.
Because you're done living on the corner of heartache and memory,
with a space large enough only to rest, in the close company of a muttered "in peace".
You've gathered up the sands of time and tossed them into the wind to be taken with the seasons of un-raked leaves.
Your time is now.
There is no rehearsal, and you don't need a soundcheck to hear the beating of your own heart.
It is on the mantle piece that you'll place that vault,
above a fire fuelled by closed hands of old cards that you gave to the sun.
And amidst the crackling of a road long gone...you'll hear it.
Because happinesses middle name is kind and you've been kind of waiting.
The lease is up.
Silence can no longer occupy the hollows of a heart healed by the words "I love you",
echoing off the walls of this hall, bought by unscripted lives, because?...we do.
We all do...And you don't need an encore.
Today the sun rose, and so did you.
Sunday, 13 January 2013
Rain blankets.
Time to Float.
A misty day in the greenery of delightfully rainy landscape, an existence of song and dance to take flight on the surface of the sea.
Tuesday, 8 January 2013
On Kindness and the courtesy of being considerate.
Kindness is synonymous with happiness.
To those who wish to be the man of the hour,
stammering out a superficial sentence to stand out
searching for vacancies to occupy in the spaces between heartbeats
Being met with stares, as if silence was a room for rent and we all went shhhh.
Why was it needed? did you ponder on the power of being so perpendicular when everyone else was gracious enough to sit and marvel at the beauty of things. There is always an avenue to stand, choose wisely and kindly what to stand for.
Sunday, 6 January 2013
Monday, 31 December 2012
Another night, a quiet morning.
Off to the woods.
Away from people.
From Drama,
to a place where I can be me.
Away from people.
From Drama,
to a place where I can be me.
Sunday, 30 December 2012
Little Valla brought to you by the sunrise.
Simple pleasures are my friends, awakening the senses to a enlightening sky with music and yoga. A morning of smiles stuck to my face by small measures of stoke amongst dolphins, waves, friends and a rising sun.
Saturday, 29 December 2012
A message on macchiatos, Cappuccinos and racism.
I'm sitting in a cafe after a morning of surfing and yoga. The sun is burning away the barrier of clouds which has left the morning in greyscale permeating the horizon with a somewhat mysterious demeanour.
I'm surrounded by an array of well-clad people, humans wearing their wallets as a front for who they are. Constrained by their facade of who and what they think is impressive. My table has the usual rock, the defect all tables are made with in order for them to be amusing to a waiting cliental, I've also managed to convince a couple sittng opposite me that the true purpose of the loose wobble is to allow a bit of ebb and flow in the event of an earthquake. Hit by the obvious truth of this realisation they have now gone about inspecting the table quite closely.
I'm not one to do this sort of thing normally but it was sort of a public experiment to see the reaction. It's amazing how persuasive you can be with a leather bound journal, a macbook air, a top-hat and a macchiato. I chose this particular couple for my social experiment as I couldn't help but overhear their loud conversation about seemingly populous amount of people of oriental descent, and their stupidity on the roads. I warn you the following contains terms which ARE offensive. The conversation opened with the line: "Some slanty stole my parking spot this morn-" the girl was interrupted by her boyfriend who loudly exclaimed that "they're bloody horrible driver's and I had one going 90 on the pacific Highway." (Sick, I thought what kind of inhumane creature drives with caution, 90 on the highway? that's outrageous! But I digress; his lady, eager to finish her story continued) "Yeah but babe, I managed to convince this slanty idiot that the parking space was for australians only, and she LEFT!"(my stomach rumbles and not from the coffee but the extent that these two were sickening me.)
To people who are racist, does me drinking a macchiato to your cappuccino make me a distinguished gentlemen of class? No, does it say anything about who I am as a person, besides a taste I enjoy? No. You cannot, and do not define others, A person's skin colour does not define them beyond a culture and heritage. A person's appearance doesn't define them beyond the scars of a life well lived. Who's to say a person who drives slowly is any less loving, caring or kind; and yes uncertaintly is something everyone goes through, but atleast afford a fellow human the courtesy of an open heart regardless of how they appear;. Like many of the people around me, there's probably an inner child who's building walls trying to be someone impressive. A constrained life is a difficult one yet they wear these masks to be worthy of you; is that sacrifice not enough for you to greet them with a smile, to forgive their choices of parking or slow driving?
The couple is about to leave and they are still subtly inspecting the table. I'm about to tell them the truth; that I made up the whole story about earthquakes in the hope that it might awaken them to how much lies can hurt. Perhaps then they'll think twice before labelling someone of oriental ethnicity as being not australian, or concocting a story about parking spaces for citizens only. Following this I might drive south along the hwy at 90km/h...
I hope they realise.
I'm surrounded by an array of well-clad people, humans wearing their wallets as a front for who they are. Constrained by their facade of who and what they think is impressive. My table has the usual rock, the defect all tables are made with in order for them to be amusing to a waiting cliental, I've also managed to convince a couple sittng opposite me that the true purpose of the loose wobble is to allow a bit of ebb and flow in the event of an earthquake. Hit by the obvious truth of this realisation they have now gone about inspecting the table quite closely.
I'm not one to do this sort of thing normally but it was sort of a public experiment to see the reaction. It's amazing how persuasive you can be with a leather bound journal, a macbook air, a top-hat and a macchiato. I chose this particular couple for my social experiment as I couldn't help but overhear their loud conversation about seemingly populous amount of people of oriental descent, and their stupidity on the roads. I warn you the following contains terms which ARE offensive. The conversation opened with the line: "Some slanty stole my parking spot this morn-" the girl was interrupted by her boyfriend who loudly exclaimed that "they're bloody horrible driver's and I had one going 90 on the pacific Highway." (Sick, I thought what kind of inhumane creature drives with caution, 90 on the highway? that's outrageous! But I digress; his lady, eager to finish her story continued) "Yeah but babe, I managed to convince this slanty idiot that the parking space was for australians only, and she LEFT!"(my stomach rumbles and not from the coffee but the extent that these two were sickening me.)
To people who are racist, does me drinking a macchiato to your cappuccino make me a distinguished gentlemen of class? No, does it say anything about who I am as a person, besides a taste I enjoy? No. You cannot, and do not define others, A person's skin colour does not define them beyond a culture and heritage. A person's appearance doesn't define them beyond the scars of a life well lived. Who's to say a person who drives slowly is any less loving, caring or kind; and yes uncertaintly is something everyone goes through, but atleast afford a fellow human the courtesy of an open heart regardless of how they appear;. Like many of the people around me, there's probably an inner child who's building walls trying to be someone impressive. A constrained life is a difficult one yet they wear these masks to be worthy of you; is that sacrifice not enough for you to greet them with a smile, to forgive their choices of parking or slow driving?
The couple is about to leave and they are still subtly inspecting the table. I'm about to tell them the truth; that I made up the whole story about earthquakes in the hope that it might awaken them to how much lies can hurt. Perhaps then they'll think twice before labelling someone of oriental ethnicity as being not australian, or concocting a story about parking spaces for citizens only. Following this I might drive south along the hwy at 90km/h...
I hope they realise.
Wednesday, 26 December 2012
On the Road again.
Early morning departures, on another coastal voyage.
Finding waves,
good people,
good music,
& stoke.
On the road again.
Sunday, 23 December 2012
Rough Sun, Strong winds, no waves.
Having Surfed everyday the last few days the waves have become fickle creatures, hiding in deep water. Today they refused to surface all together. Sometimes I feel the ocean mimics our self, I've been escaping the holiday craziness by slipping away in the current of windy seas. Time for me to dwell on the land, find soil between my toes and roots in my bones. Perhaps then I'll find the sea ready to play.
Off to the woods I go, find me in the trees on the clearest path to the universe, through the wilderness.
Off to the woods I go, find me in the trees on the clearest path to the universe, through the wilderness.
Friday, 21 December 2012
Zen and the art of pushing in your chair.
There is great importance in finishing things correctly and well. Half jobs can haunt you...well you can't cross a chasm in two small jumps. So take a stand, leave the table, and push in your chair.
Y o u r song & D a n c e
Sometimes you travel around the world in search of something and return home to find it. Whatever that might be, a love, a smile, a song, a kiss, a wave, a laugh, a tear; it brings us back to reunite with the people that make us feel right, the people who make us do what we can. Like a bird on a buffalo.
Every once in a while, perhaps you'll find this place, this contentment, the remedy for past days of anguish and heartache, confusion and worried faces. A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor and sometimes we must pass through solitude and difficulty isolation and silence. To find that enchanted place where we can dance our clumsy dance and sing our sorrowful song. But in that dance and in that song, the most ancient rights of our consciousness fulfil themselves in the awareness of being human, in the realisation of being ourselves.
Lost with with beautiful strangers and found amongst the firmest of friends, I returned to that place.
Every once in a while, perhaps you'll find this place, this contentment, the remedy for past days of anguish and heartache, confusion and worried faces. A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor and sometimes we must pass through solitude and difficulty isolation and silence. To find that enchanted place where we can dance our clumsy dance and sing our sorrowful song. But in that dance and in that song, the most ancient rights of our consciousness fulfil themselves in the awareness of being human, in the realisation of being ourselves.
Lost with with beautiful strangers and found amongst the firmest of friends, I returned to that place.
Saturday, 15 December 2012
Seaworthy
A cold current this morning brought back memories of surfing the dark freezing waters of British columbia, a wild place where every surf session is a journey; from checking the forecasts in the dark to having a warm cup of tea, finding a slightly frozen wetsuit, boots, hood and gloves and throwing them in your car. Finding the wave, watching the empty waves roll in through the mist. Suiting up, in silence; too cold to speak without a stammer. Paddling out, each passing wave giving you a brain freeze as you dive into the murky depths. Finding your feet and manufacturing stoke as you draw your own lines on these empty walls. Orcas surface in the distance to remind you of your place. the waves carry you to the perfect state of content exhaustion, sliding to the shore to remove your booties only to find your toes are still there. Dry clothes, and a warm cup of tea followed by a bowl of oatmeal cooked on your whisper light stove in the back of your truck. Listening to some music in the warmth before suiting up again and repeating the whole process. It must be early afternoon now, but the sun is no where to be seen, just rain...everywhere, blanketing the dark coastline of Fur, Pine Hemlock and Cedar. The trip to town is warm and sleepy, your eyelids opening and closing in time with the wiper blades. A cheerfully lit and warm cafe awaits you with a meal known as the "big Gun", you wash the best sandwich of your life down with a big cup of chai tea and talk stories with the locals comparing the mornings triumphs. Tomorrow? you'll do it all again.
The journey makes you treasure the process; basking in the simple things, it makes us Sea worthy. The Ocean silently deserves the best in all of us. Let's continue to return it's gifts, it's simple measures of stoke by protecting it from the wheel of progress. This film will show you the love we all share for our waters and perhaps ignite the a spark needed to keep them around. We only protect those things we love, and you can't love something unless you can inherently identify with it.
The journey makes you treasure the process; basking in the simple things, it makes us Sea worthy. The Ocean silently deserves the best in all of us. Let's continue to return it's gifts, it's simple measures of stoke by protecting it from the wheel of progress. This film will show you the love we all share for our waters and perhaps ignite the a spark needed to keep them around. We only protect those things we love, and you can't love something unless you can inherently identify with it.
Friday, 14 December 2012
A wave, Hoping the tides may change...
Perhaps the tides will change.
The wind this morning blew early, a restless kamakani from the northwest. I spent the morning in the calm of the ocean, perfect waves and good people. Somewhere over the sea, a catastrophe took place, an inhumane catastrophe. The media have swooped on a school shooting, people are giving their thoughts and advice through status updates on facebook. And I? I was unaware, timber beneath my toes surfing a wall of green with the rising sun and it's playful creatures. What could spur such an event, what brings a person to this place of hate and fear? Did the people that woke up this morning and decided, that they had the say to end the lives of dozens of people need a hug? a smile? or perhaps a wave?
What drives us to be humane? What is it to be humane?
I was once talking to a girl who was brought up with religion (I was not). She was a strong believer of her faith and conversation swung to this quickly. She asked if I was religious; I said that I do things religiously but I'm a firm believer in actions and consequences, kindness and other constants, like paradox, humor and change.
She seemed puzzled..."How do you know what is right and wrong if you're not religious?" she asked, obviously concerned. I answered with another question; "does religion give you feelings?" "It gives me everything" she answered. I said, "I act on feelings and their by products, If something makes me feel good I'll act accordingly, if something makes me feel unhappy or angry, I'll take action to make it better". "BUT, How do you know if something is good or bad?" she interjected frustratedly.
I paused to give her time to cool her jets then answered."I just do, we all have feelings and the only belief they are tied to is our want to be happy. When a baby is sad, it cries, when it is happy it laughs. These are called emotions, Does an infant have religion? No. I'm the same, just larger, hairier, but with just as much feeling."
Back to this mornings events; I hope whatever actions spurs from this horrific event, leads us to a more humane space, where people take responsibilities for their actions, and really understand that they DO know the difference between right and wrong innately. Also perhaps leads society to an understanding that no one ever has the right to take the life of another and in doing so we realise the futile nature of weapons, cruelty and violence.
I hope the families of the victims will one day find some sort of solace from the terrors of this day; perhaps through the kindness of others they might find that iota, that small measure of happiness once again. Perhaps the tides will change for them...for the better.
Wednesday, 12 December 2012
Working to Heal and Float again
My feet, tasted reef recently and after some digging around I think I got all of it out. Earth feels like nails to walk on right now. Taking my thoughts to another place by working in the soil shaping the land. Somehow work makes those next waves we catch just that little bit better...
Tomorrow morning I'll bring my feet to the water regardless of the state they're in...I'm drying up without the sea.
Tomorrow morning I'll bring my feet to the water regardless of the state they're in...I'm drying up without the sea.
Saturday, 8 December 2012
SMALL soUthern ComfortS
Monday, 3 December 2012
I'm writing this to you now.
I'm writing this to you now, with no knowledge of what might perspire over the next few days; over the next few weeks or even the next few years. I wonder if this sort of sentiment is shared by many people...
Life is like a river, it keeps moving changing when it meets an obstacle it winds it's way around eventually finding the sea. We must never stop the river, plan it or change it, instead we must let the wind, the world and our footsteps dictate our next oxbow. Finding the way isn't the goal, we're on it. Whether we like current situations or not, is of little consequence, what we do about it makes all the difference. Be a writer, a physician, a builder, a lawyer, a truck driver, homeless man, a barista, a musician, a lover, or a friend, but most of all be yourself. Say your piece and go about your way, your own way; no once else can choose your river.
Life is like a river, it keeps moving changing when it meets an obstacle it winds it's way around eventually finding the sea. We must never stop the river, plan it or change it, instead we must let the wind, the world and our footsteps dictate our next oxbow. Finding the way isn't the goal, we're on it. Whether we like current situations or not, is of little consequence, what we do about it makes all the difference. Be a writer, a physician, a builder, a lawyer, a truck driver, homeless man, a barista, a musician, a lover, or a friend, but most of all be yourself. Say your piece and go about your way, your own way; no once else can choose your river.
Life in music, Death in dance.
There are times when I wonder what you would get if you took everything from your life; I mean everything, all the memories, all the people, all the times, the stories, the hardships, the love, the sorrow, the excitement, the passion, the fire, the calm, the smiles, the tears, the beauty, the boring and even the staring off into the distance disillusioned and content to stare... What if you took all of these pages, these chapters of your life and gave each of them a sound; what melody would spring from such a tale? And after listening to it, where would you find yourself? Unsure? Perhaps listen to this song, it might all make sense. I found myself, and always have... a slack tide lost and found at sea; Letting the ocean joyfully carry me along.
Friday, 30 November 2012
SICK RIPPLES AND STUFf
A day spent looking for waves along the coast.
It's a hot one, 40+ degrees but the sea breeze is kind and brings relief.
A nice little logging session this morning while it was still glassy.
Now waiting for a l.a.g.o to coincide with low tide, hopefully to bring something fun for shorter alaias.
Now? a tea and some macadamia nuts, refuelling the spirit.
It's a hot one, 40+ degrees but the sea breeze is kind and brings relief.
A nice little logging session this morning while it was still glassy.
Now waiting for a l.a.g.o to coincide with low tide, hopefully to bring something fun for shorter alaias.
Now? a tea and some macadamia nuts, refuelling the spirit.
Wednesday, 28 November 2012
What a year.
Now back in australia looking down the cobblestone lane called memory. What a time, Hawaii, canada, mainland U.S, Chile and argentina.
How long will I spend in aus?
As long as it takes
Where to next?
waiting on a whim to take me...
How long will I spend in aus?
As long as it takes
Where to next?
waiting on a whim to take me...
12th November
From the torres I headed downhill, all downhill, playing music the whole way.
I was done.
excited for a shower and a GOOD meal.
I was done.
excited for a shower and a GOOD meal.
Monday, 26 November 2012
6:50 AM 12th NOVEMBER
Sitting at the top of the Torres lookout, watching the sunrise illuminate this band of brothers, frozen in time. A window to worlds long past. It's so peaceful and tranquil, the morning sounds of light-hearted murmering mixed with the tinkering of breakfast being prepared. Friends in high places we all look out. Solitude made way for the best of company; people to share happiness with, to make it real.
What a beautiful place this is, out in the wilds of the world.
11:45PM...ISH
I'm sitting in my very well anchored tent, I watched the sunlight fade on the Torres Del Paine this evening. Completing the day with a swim in the glacial lake that sits solemnly at their feet, and a melody to the orange sky.
12:25 PM 11th November
I arrived at rufio las Torres at about 12:05pm, I had a splendid morning of walking, quite fast despite walking into the wind. I'm now sitting at a table inside having eaten the last of my food besides the tortellini. From here to my last campsite I've only got about 5km and probably only 250m Gain of elevation. This morning's walk was spectacular, 17km of flower meadows winding there way up a river, very alp-like.
Being so removed form everything I find it hard to fathom being back in australia in 6 days.
I only today found out that obama got re-elected.
Being so removed form everything I find it hard to fathom being back in australia in 6 days.
I only today found out that obama got re-elected.
8:12 AM, 11th OF NOVEMBER 2012.
I had minimal sleep last night, due to reasons unknown. When I did sleep I was entertained by strange dreams.
My tent suffered from last nights rage of wind. One of the elastics coming through the poles may have snapped. It will need further inspection before I make any final decisions on it.
The poles themselves have worn from the weather, bent warped each with stories in their scars.
Breakfast this morning was minimal and by eating I used up the remainder of my rassions. All I have left to eat for two days is an orange some powdered milk, 6 slices of salami 4 pieces of cheese and some tortellini.
this could be interesting...
I hear the surf calling me...
I've found solace in the mountains, but my time spent amongst these giants of solidarity makes me realise my place as a being of ocean, of water.
I very much look forward to my place among the waves, my home in the sea.
My tent suffered from last nights rage of wind. One of the elastics coming through the poles may have snapped. It will need further inspection before I make any final decisions on it.
The poles themselves have worn from the weather, bent warped each with stories in their scars.
Breakfast this morning was minimal and by eating I used up the remainder of my rassions. All I have left to eat for two days is an orange some powdered milk, 6 slices of salami 4 pieces of cheese and some tortellini.
this could be interesting...
I hear the surf calling me...
I've found solace in the mountains, but my time spent amongst these giants of solidarity makes me realise my place as a being of ocean, of water.
I very much look forward to my place among the waves, my home in the sea.
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