Couclelis H (2003) The Certainty of Uncertainty: GIS and the Limits of Geographic Knowledge. Transactions in GIS, 7(2) pp165–175.
i woke up sunday morning reaching for my shoes.
the morning calls. i want to be out in the garden.
the morning calls. i want to be out in the garden.
then i realise i left my shoes in my car.
arriving at my car i find the door standing open
my cd's, cd player and shoes gone.
i stayed calm
and start making list of things to replace and associated costs.
i go to the shop where i bought my shoes.
not only are they no longer stocked ,
they are no longer produced.
i freak out.
i am crying as if someone died.
my rational mind desperately reminds me:
"dude, they are only shoes."
but it is not just about the shoes.
it is about no longer feeling safe
in my country, my city, my home.
it is about no longer feeling welcome in my country.
it is about our world and the way i have no control
over the way the earth is raped, assaulted and robbed daily.
it is about not knowing
who i am, why i am here, where i will go and where i came from.
if i start peeling back the layers of my life what will i find?
a buddhist emptiness? an atheist nothingness?
an agnostic unknown?
who i am, why i am here, where i will go and where i came from.
if i start peeling back the layers of my life what will i find?
a buddhist emptiness? an atheist nothingness?
an agnostic unknown?
does things happen for a reason? or not?
where do i find safety for those i love?
not having any answers frightens me.
yet resting in the unknown feels like a doorway.
a tunnel.
a clearing in a quite field
drenched in early morning sunlight
and frozen in time.
i wonder what is on the other side of this unknown moment?
and will i be needing shoes?
and will i be needing shoes?
i miss you mithril.
16 comments:
I have faith that you won't need shoes... or anything at all, for that matter. :)
~*
I haven't been here in awhile, I've missed your writing and your photos. Lovely.
existensislist angst is such a tough one. The words of aloneness echo round my head, finding no answers just unknowns.I choose to live in harmony with this unknown as I can't do anything about it when it steals up on me, except wait for enlightment.
xx
I think getting robbed always leaves you with this feeling of insecurity. But, I always come up with a but (as you know): Even if our life is imperfect, and sometimes lonely, and loved ones die, and all that...still it makes me happy to be alive. The sun shines, the creek water flows, flowers blossom. Chocolate muffins can be dipped into hoz chocolate. It`s the eternal, big and little things that count. What`s on the other side? Lots, I hope. Only peace, love, and more flowers and creeks. And dear friends. For sure!!
I love how you can wrap up posts about confusion and angst and deep thoughts with a little humor.
Oh, you are an artist, a poet, a woman of the true world. Things are stolen, and you feel part of you has been taken also. It has not - only the things are gone. Pretend you threw them away, and when you toss them, toss the fear of the unknown with them.
You will not need shoes. You have feet.
Debi
those shoes no longer serve you. You have your beautiful soul.
I love you, sister
Man, that bites, that you were robbed yet again. It has to affect your sense of security.
And yet, in true Hele-style, you takes us along on your personal journey. Away from a quest for shoes, and into the meaning of life.
I want to say that karma will balance it all out in the end, but truthfully, I don't know if the balance exists anywhere more tangible than in our minds. But even if that's all there is, I feel sure you will find grace, if only as a boomerang of grace, returning back from all the places you've sent it (like right here, inside of me!).
sometimes it does feel like the tiniest trigger can send it all spiralling...and look at our world, as lovely as it is, so much pain and fear...i think we do our best to manage it day to day.
what a lovely post and blog.
Thanks. Your wisdom and determination inspire me.
FA
i havent been here (or anywhere online for that matter) in ages and as usual your post is beautiful and moving and your photos are a treat
...this that leave you leave to create space for new
xxx
m
When I lived in San Francisco, my care was broken into repeatedly - maybe as many as a dozen times. The first few times I felt so violated. After awhile I became calmer about the experience. It's the way of city life.
Your photos are so exquisite. I love the way you're able to photograph light. It's visible, the light itself.
You know there is no such thing as safety, but there is light. Hope you are wrapping your heart in some of that golden light from your garden.
Sending love.
My car.
Love the typo, though.
I don't blame you for freaking out. Not being able to replace the shoes most likely drove home the fact that you had lost something. I got through the theft of my truck a few years ago without freaking too much but it was recovered after a couple of days. I freaked a little when I saw that a tape wrapped baseball bat had been left on the back seat because I knew it had been used to break car windows.
hele
i hope you have found more shoes to fill the worried space and more laughter and safety and wonder-ment
I share that sense of insecurity, of the country and the world going mad about us, without our being able to do a thing about it. You express it all with such disturbing grace. What a blessing, then, that your beautiful pictures of the natural world provide such an anchor--to those of us who look at them and, I hope, to yourself. A saner reality...
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