Foam marrow

I reconnoitre a slightly different beach route for an upcoming Hiku Hike. The water is very loud and the pied kingfishers are unusually close and energetic, flitting almost like bats, uttering their high-pitched calls. 

Settling on some rocks, I grow absorbed in the bubbles of foam, which a few rather capricious swells are herding into the holds of the reef.

They are marrow cells and nuclei of foam, shuddering, spinning, exploding, reconsolidating, gaping, rotating. 

I feel myself becoming involved in their trembling existence. Can there be anything more insecure than foam?

The wind is stout and sharp as a small dagger, the sky's swathed in indecisive whites, partially obscuring a weak blueness, a blueness busy resting from having to be a hue.

Thus, the sea is largely colourless, a de-individuated expanse, retreating from language, from consciousness. 

That will be all for today. The softest parts of you are equally speechless. 

30th June 2024

When I zoomed into the snaps I'd taken, I saw that each bit of foam marrow had seen me too, replicated, with its compound eyes.

The most beautiful expenditure

The word 'expenditure' is usually associated with cost, and thus with loss. But there are losses, which lighten the load I am to myself. The most worthwhile payment you can make in life is that of paying attention. The advantaged child is not the one with better shoes or wealthier parents, but the one who watches and listens closely in class. His exam preparations are minimal compared to the distracted others.

We are seven-tenths water and when we open our consciousness to allow inflow of information, intelligence, wisdom, perception, then that water organises an organic library, in our cells, of sensory experience, which we usually call memory. The attentive person allows themselves to be elementally altered by what is given them by the environment. I lose myself into the things I pay attention to, and so I become a kind of foreign exchange teller, a currency converter, if you like - whereby the words the most beautiful expenditure etch themselves (who knows from where?) into my thought to wake me, and I attend to this foreign thought, permit it to move my body to get up with the dawn, to take a photograph of the tree and mountain silhouette and pale morning star, and then my pen, so you, in turn, may have this, to give your time to, read and ponder.