But it seems I have a corpse that has come with me, or is somehow part of what I am carrying.
I’m figuring there must be some paperwork that needs taking care of, some bureaucratic machinations must surely be done for the corpse, so when a few crew members pass by, I ask them : What needs doing?
“Oh, you can just let that go”, they tell me, “just let it go into the sea”.
It’s about a week after the dream that I find myself in waking life on a ferry, and it takes me maybe half an hour to realize I am in fact on a rather large boat and that it might be a really good time to let some shit go.
Dead shit.
I’m not sure I could define or articulate exactly what the dead element consisted of, but I did have a sense of patterns of behaviour, repetitive stories, relationships that aren’t necessarily working out.
So I opened my arms to the wind there on the upper deck of the ferry and tried to let it all go.
The next day we stood on a mountaintop and looked out.
High enough that the birds floated up to us on the currents of wind.
Mostly we just looked in awe, took in the expanse, the huge sense of space, but once in a while we pulled out the binoculars and tried to identify the flash of movement in the water.
Aside from the tankers passing, all remained elusive and mysterious.
It was the following day at the eastern point of the island that we saw the fins of what we guessed must be porpoises, small and agile, making their way across the strait.
Nope, sorry, I didn’t take a photo of them.
Right now I’m carrying only my phone, no big camera, and besides, those moments seem so precious it feels more important to breathe them in than take a fuzzy terrible picture.
Breathe in the moment, the sea, the wind, and let all the dead shit go…
Here for the solstice it has been frightfully cold – winter reminding us he still has some tricks up his sleeve…
The city doesn’t always offer the best winter pix, so while I’m snuggled away at home I’ve dug out a few images from years past in scattered places around this cold country…
