Electric Blue Eyes

(Fragments, of a dream on walking, jotted down in my journal as and when they came)

Figure sitting behind me

In front psychic/woman. With blue eyes/blonde hair

She was resting? (sleeping) and I spoke to her

She spoke about the person she didn't want to see. I was worried it was me, but she said it was the person behind me

She liked me. We talked. She talked about passing messages on through thought.

I tried to talk to her through thought, telepathically, but my lips were still moving.

She sent messages to me without words, and I received them. What they were was lost upon waking.

She had beautiful light blue eyes, and was wearing some sort of headress, under which was her blonde hair.

She was sleeping/resting her eyes initially.

I spoke to her first.

Salome

Salome

One of many biblical representations of evil women, and the reason why JWs don't celebrate birthdays. Because who know, if you celebrate one you might get beheaded! And we couldn't have that..


On Herod's birthday the daughter of Herodias danced for them and pleased Herod so much that he promised with an oath to give her whatever she asked. Prompted by her mother, she said, "Give me here on a platter the head of John the Baptist." The king was distressed, but because of his oaths and his dinner guests, he ordered that her request be granted and had John beheaded in the prison. His head was brought in on a platter and given to the girl, who carried it to her mother. John's disciples came and took his body and buried it. Then they went and told Jesus. Matthew 14:6-12


John's head on a platter

What a monster eh? Damn these women.

Eternity in a Moment

You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment."
Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)

I had another one of those 'moments' tonight.

Where a scene, or an experience turns into something else.

A moment where you are reminded of how small and insignificant we are in the grand scheme of things.

I was sitting in a beautiful bar, on another hot, Darwin night, with two people who have become very close to me in my time in Darwin, Tom and Gina. We were drinking beer and having a really good conversation, while looking out at the sea.

From the distance, across the ocean, there was a flash of white. This started slowly, but became more and more frequent. The temperature dropped, somewhat eerily, and the palm trees starting blowing in a wind which seemed to come from nowhere. Then the thunder came.

Watching this beautiful storm rolling in across the ocean was something which I will never forget.

A moment where everything comes together, and for a moment you see this world we find ourselves in all its glory and mystery.

And you realise that we are nothing but ants, crawling around, caught up in a web of regrets about the past, concerns about the future. Emotions take over - anger, frustration, boredom, jealousy, sadness.

But for a split second, in the face of this spellbinding storm, I became detached from everything

And just simply 'was' Immersed in a moment.

In this madness, there are moments of clarity, moments of beauty.

And it's moments like these that make it all worthwhile.

Pilar

The angel flew across the city, looking down on all the people. And somewhere in the process the angel and I became one, and it was me flying across the city looking down at everyone. I was in control. I could make myself fly higher. The cityscape spread out below me, and I woke up with a name on my lips. 'Pilah' or 'Pilar'.

To confuse things even more, I was humming a song in my head, 'Snow (hey oh)' by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Not a band I listen to, and a song I haven't heard for a long time. So why was it there?

I quickly wrote this down before it faded from my memory. And then I turned to good old google to try and investigate the meaning.

Pilah

First result, wikipedia of course.

Kuala Pilah is a town and district in Negeri Sembilan, Malaysia. Commonly called Pilah by the mainly Malay Minangkabau inhabitants, it is also the name of a district. It is an old valley town with many of the pre-war Chinese shophouses still fronting the main streets surrounded by traditional style Malay kampung houses built on stilts nestled amongst extensive rice fields.

When I put Pilah and Angel together, I got the following...

Enochian magic for beginners: the original system of angel magic - Google Books Result by Donald Tyson - 1997 - Body, Mind & Spirit - 384 pages
Moreover, you lifted up your voices and swore obedience Pilah, ...

I then typed in Pilar

First result, wikipedia of course...

Pilar is Portuguese and Spanish for pillar. It has assumed a great religious significance due to

* Nuestra Señora del Pilar (Our Lady of the Pillar), the name given to the Blessed Virgin Mary for her appearance in Spain, where she is commonly depicted as standing on top of a pillar
o María del Pilar (Mary of the Pillar), derived from the above, is a common female name in Latin American countries. In Spain, it is usually abbreviated to Pilar, and as such developed into a name in its own right.

So far, so weird. Am I meant to visit this town, Kuala Pilah?

What is this mysterious 'Enochian magic'?

And what about the name's 'great religious significance' and the female angel in my dream?

And more importantly, what the hell was The Red Hot Chilli Peppers doing in the mix?

Of course, I looked up the lyrics. Because if a song that you don't normally listen to is stuck in your head, in that grey area between sleep and waking there's got to be a reason surely?

So the lyrics came up, quite profound (apart from the inane refrain)

But here's the strange bit. The next plus twenty entries that came up on the search engine linked back to everything that came before: "Angels And Airwaves - True Love lyrics" with these bizarre lyrics that link in completely with my dream...


...
The snow, has come down, on top of everything,
The town, was alive and well without you.
The lights, they peer out, of the leafless trees,
And you won't, be alone, I am beside you.
...

The stars in the sky illuminate below,
The light is the sign that love will guide you home.
The stars in the sky illuminate below,
If the world were to die, the light would guide you.

Tears, spilling out, across a dead end street,
Your house, is a lonely box that holds you.
The star, bright and loud, is in dire need,
Of the fear, that is an empty fear inside you.

And the meaning of it all?

Answers on a postcard please.

Lights, Lanterns, and a Broken Foot.

I feel like I'm trapped in that song by the clash. But whereas when they asked 'Should I stay or should I go?' they were talking about a relationship, and I am talking about a country.

The decision to come out to Australia was not taken lightly. And most of last year was spent waiting, waiting for the 11th January when I would I would fly off into the great unknown.

And when you take that plunge, into the great unknown, the great unknown quite quickly becomes something quite familiar. And you realise, its actually pretty easy to go to the other side of the world. You may be in a different place, but you're still the same person. The same person, but better.

Your eyes become opened to a whole new place, new people, new mindset. Years spent floating around in a pleasant bubble, in the same town, with the same people. Safe, comfortable, but so very boring. And all of a sudden it's all new. That stagnation, that predictability, is gone.

And you meet people. Some of the most amazing people you could ever meet. And because you're on your own, out of your comfort zone, you make the effort. And it becomes so very easy. In a couple of months you have a more intense relationship than you had back home with people you'd known for years. But then, you move on. Such is the nature of travel. And those friends you made in that place, in that moment, become strangers again. And then you find yourself in a new place, with new people, and you do it all over again.

The past year, I have just been floating around. It's like putting a blindfold on and putting your finger on a map, and going there. And once you go there that brand new, unfamiliar territory, becomes familiar. And then you move on somewhere else. I've seen the lights of Sydney, I've experienced being stuck in the outback, I've been to some of the most beautiful places on earth, such as Broome. And then I arrived in Darwin.

Arriving in Darwin, something just clicked with me. I fell in love with the place. I remember exploring the small city centre a few nights after I arrived. The luminous city lights shone against the backdrop of the balmy, tropical evening. And I heard music, beautiful music. I followed the music and arrived in a park.

The trees were filled with lights and lanterns, oranges, reds and indigos against the leaves and the starry sky. There was a tent in the middle where a female vocalist was singing, and people were lying on the grass. Some smoking, some drinking champagne, some just closing their eyes and taking in the energy. I closed my eyes, lay on the grass, let the music and the heat wash over me and I thought, "This is it. This is the place I want to live"

Everything conspired in the first few months to prove my initial reaction. The sunsets, the indigo ocean, the luscious plants, the exotic animals.

The Thursday beach markets were out of this world. Hundreds of stalls selling exotic jewellery, aboriginal artwork, candles, insence, tarot. Lots of food stalls sending the smell of Asia out into the still night air. Digeridoo music floating up to the star filled sky, and me, lying on the beach watching the ocean. Thinking I could sit there forever.

And the job! What a job. Teaching beautiful, well mannered kids, the timor sea your backdrop through the wide open windows.

Then the bike accident.

Hours spent inside. Sitting in hospital wards. Sleeping most of the day. Not able to work. Not able to do anything but think.

Then 'home' loomed in my thoughts. My family, my friends, all the things I left behind ten months ago. Darwin was too hot, too sticky. The heat was oppressive. The slightest task became a monumental event. I needed to take a couple of hours to psych myself up before having a shower, because of the effort it now involved. What was I doing in this isolated place on the other side of the world anyway?

Part of me wants to settle down, wants to get a full time job, wants to be in a position where I can embark upon a relationship in the knowledge that I'm not going to be moving on somewhere else in a few months

But Darwin still has its grip on me. Last night, for example, I went to the deckchair cinema. Outdoors, under the stars, surrounded by trees. The ocean to the left. Distant lights of ships hovering. The beautiful balmy night air. The smell of the plants

I don't want to go.

The Storm Broke

Written in the midst of a HUGE storm, last night, in my journal.







The storm broke.
You could hear it through the house
Battering down the walls
Like a blind person
Hitting a hammer against a nail

But most of all
You could smell it
The smell of the wet vegetation
The aroma of the tropics
The lightning illuminating the sky
The frogs singing in chorus
As the rain pelted down

I wonder am I sleeping, back in Belfast? I wonder when will I wake up? and how will I feel when I do? If I do. When I do.

Frozen in a Moment

The heat is oppressive. You go outside and within minutes you can feel it dripping down your face, dripping down your hair, making your t-shirt stick to your skin. But you adjust, you get used to it. It is the natural state after all. Embrace the sweat. It's all that you can do.

I'm not complaining. I could sit out on the verandah for hours looking at the lush vegetation, listening to the birds and frogs, watching the lizards

I just miss being able to do things. When I think of a few weeks ago, cycling along East Point at sunset, people-watching, looking at the tropical sunset through the moisture, and thinking, "This is it. I'm here."

The last East Point sunset I remember vividly. I was smoking a cigarette on a bench looking out at the swollen orange sun hanging above the Timor sea. And I felt content. Not happy, not sad, just content.

A woman came near, with her daughter. The daughter had down syndrome. She didn't look like she spoke much, and she retreated to the corner, and looked away, to a place where she felt safe.

The woman had spent too many years in the blazing heat and her skin was shrivelled up like a used condom. But there was a kindness in her gait. Kindness and sadness. Sadness at how life can be so uninspiring, even in front of this ecclesiastical sunset.

For a few moments we sat in silence, watching the sun go down.

There were three figures which in the distance had looked like whales, or dolphins. But as they came closer it was clear they were people. People in rowing boats. I was thinking how stupid they were, as there were signs all around the beach saying it was dangerous to go into the water. Unless, of course you wanted eaten by a croc, or stung by a box jellyfish.

"Look at those silly people, out in the sea. Don't they know how dangerous it is"

It was the woman beside me. I agreed with her and went back to my sun gazing. But it was no use. A dam had been unlocked, and she didn't want to close it again.

So she talked and talked. Told me about her history, her life, her family, all that had brought her to this moment, watching another lonely sunset with her silent daughter.

I could imagine her, living alone with her daughter. Looking ater her, wondering who would when she was gone. Watching sunset after sunset. Alone. Silence. Endless silence all day. Endless silence to think about the past, to think of the people you met, and lost, to think of the people you never met, the things you didn't do.

Too much time alone is a dangerous thing.

My initial desire to experience this spiritual sunset with my constant companion of the past year, Solitude, was quickly surpassed by my desire to be nice to this woman. To listen to her, to talk to her.

Her daughter stayed at a safe distance, looking over occasionally, too frightened to come close.

As the sun went down over the horizon the old woman said,
"That was a disappointing one. I've seen better."
I laughed and said,
"There'll be another".
She then said she must go on, and that it was nice to meet me, and that she hoped I enjoyed the rest of my travels.

I remember cycling off and thinking to myself how sorry I was for that woman, how afraid I was of getting old, and how happy I was to be young, fit and healthy and on my bike in this beautiful part of the world.

That was the last sunset I saw overlooking the ocean in Darwin.

The next day was the day I fell off my shiny new bike.

The old woman and her daughter are probably sitting there right now, where they will always be sitting. Looking over the ocean, watching the sun go down.

Frozen in a moment.