Writing || Soul Shedding

On where we go when we go.

There's a cemetery not far from where I live now and it's been pulling me towards it since I moved here. There's something so fascinating about those places for me; as soon as I step foot inside of one I can almost hear it humming with the stories of all the names it holds.

There's something else that strikes me though, and I felt it last year also when I visited the grave of Henry David Thoreau. The headstone was worn smooth by many hands and around it lay a collection of pens and pencils laid down by people who'd visited before. They came there seeking to find even a sliver of his soul, and I wonder if they left with the same feeling I did; that the place held nothing more than his bones and a place for the living to go to remember.

You see something occurred to me on that visit, an idea I'd not thought through in much detail before but that I now wholeheartedly believe in: We leave pieces of ourselves in every place we inhabit. In regards to Thoreau I felt his presence most at Walden Pond where he had lived in solitude. Even now, all of us are shedding parts of our soul into the rooms we are sitting in; different amounts for the differing times we spend in each place. We do not lose this part of our soul once we move, instead it is more of an impression, a copy of our soul which is left behind and will exist as long as the place encompassing it does.

I think perhaps it is our duty to travel far and exist deeply. To leave traces of ourselves inside as many places and experiences and people as we can. To collect the souls of as many others as possible, so that in our last breaths the world is both full with us, and we are full with the world.

~Erin

Do not stand at my grave and weep 
I am not there. I do not sleep. 
I am a thousand winds that blow. 
I am the diamond glints on snow. 
I am the sunlight on ripened grain. 
I am the gentle autumn rain. 
When you awaken in the morning's hush 
I am the swift uplifting rush 
Of quiet birds in circled flight. 
I am the soft stars that shine at night. 
Do not stand at my grave and cry; 
I am not there. I did not die. 

~Mary Elizabeth Fry

Writing || The Long Way Round

On the importance of doing things the hard way.

Yesterday I stood on a train platform on my way to visit a shopping center, purely to purchase paper that would allow me to write a letter to my friend who lives in Canada. 

It struck me then how much I enjoy the long way round; consciously taking the time and effort to do something which (lets be honest) could be completed much quicker if I really wanted. I could’ve waited until I was going out anyway to get the paper, in fact I wouldn’t even need paper at all if I just emailed her or messaged her on Facebook. So why choose the hard way at all?

I think we live in a society that teaches us to rush. It’s all about efficiency, efficiency, efficiency! Just sit at a bus stop and watch everyone get fidgety when the bus is 5 minutes late, even though they’re still all going to get to where they’re going on time. It’s a side effect of The Rush; the idea that if we’re not hurtling through the day at full speed then we’re wasting our lives.

Here’s the thing though: have we ever stopped to wonder what we’re rushing towards? What exactly is it that we simply cannot wait to reach?

Everything is so easy these days; we don’t even need to leave our houses to go shopping. We can see our friend’s faces without having to travel anywhere and the ability to have every movie at our fingertips negates the need to visit the cinema.

Maybe I’m cynical, or maybe I just think there’s a great importance in going slow. In walking places, writing letters, visiting libraries. In taking the time to step back from the rush and instead just be perfectly inefficient.

~Erin

Writing || A Beginning

I'm writing this from my new bed in a new apartment. I'm a little giddy with possibility and a little scared with it also. I have no safety net, instead just walking straight out on a tightrope I'm not sure I know how to balance on. It's exhilarating.

Usually when a new chapter begins you are unaware of it. It sneaks up on you in such a way that you don't realise it's occurred until you take the time to reflect. Other times, and more rarely, you are aware of a chapter beginning as it's happening. It feels as though all your atoms are being pulled in both directions; backwards to what you've known and forwards to what could be. The very fabric of your soul gets ripped at the seams, creating space for new experiences to seep in.

I can physically feel myself on the edge of something new, despite not really knowing what that something may be. A new state of mind, a new perspective, a new adventure.

The whole world feels brand new.

Dear Diary || September 21

Just a little experiment for a new series on this blog. Let me know your thoughts!

Adventure || Melbourne

In 2014 my best friend moved to Melbourne to start studying at the National Institute for Circus Arts. This month she had her big end of second year show so I thought it was about time I made the trip to watch her perform. I'd been to Melbourne 3 times before but always to compete in gymnastics competitions and never for very long, so it was like exploring the city for the first time around again.

The first thing I found was that Melbourne has a distinctive culture that you can feel and see everywhere you look. The buildings, the shops, even the people have a look which is distinctly Melbournian. It made me realise how cultureless my hometown of Brisbane is. In the mornings we went exploring, going to places like St Kilda beach, The National Gallery and the alleyways filled with graffiti that Melbourne is well known for. Everywhere we went was bursting with beauty.

It was only a short trip; 5 and a half days altogether, but it was definitely worth it to visit a place I've now decided I want to call my home one day, and to see my best friend more than the once every 3 months that we're used to.

Melbourne, I will be back.

Writing || I Am Scared

Photo by Robert Montgomery

Photos || A Misty Morning

   

Photos || Blue Hour