“Keeping my eyes wide open, I will show gratitude for all of the Everyday Inspirations I find in my life, recording their appearance to me in my Gratitude Diary.”
I wrote the above quoted words myself, on January 6, 2011, in my post “My Year for Freedom and Gratitude”. Little did I realise, as I wrote these words less than three weeks ago, just how closed my eyes had been.
For here, virtually right on my door step, is a veritable Touch of Paradise.
(Note ~ Run the mouse over each photo and click on it, to enlarge.)
Breaking Waves
Oh, for sure, I always knew it was there. The trouble is, I have been taking it for granted.
I Love Her Far Horizons
“Oft the colours are pitched so high
The deepest note is the cobalt sky…” ~ The Colours of Light, Dorothea Mackellar.
Point Danger lookout is situated right on the border of the two states of Queensland and New South Wales, with the border line running straight through the Captain Cook Memorial Lighthouse.
Captain Cook Memorial Lighthouse
The lighthouse itself stands 45 metres above sea level, or 146 feet.
This “Slice of Heaven on Earth” would be no more than fifteen minutes drive from where I live.
My first series of photographs were taken late yesterday afternoon. Although these pictures were all rather stunning, I figured the morning light would produce a far superior result, as Point Danger is located on the eastern side of Australia.
Crystals on the Ocean
The weather this morning was spectacular, with not a cloud in the sky. The salty-air wind howled around my ears as I walked around the lookout, taking photo after breathtaking photo, while the foamy white of the waves crashed into the rocks below.
These photos do not do the area justice. The colours surrounding me were magical. The bluest of blue skies, the greenness of the Southern Pacific Ocean, progressively darkening as the waters deepened and the ocean swelling and crashing in cascades of white bubbles against the rocks and along the shoreline of Duranbah Beach.
Duranbah Beach
In certain places, the sun glistened like shiny little crystals dotted across the ocean’s surface.
As I headed back to where I had parked my car this morning I came across a little fellow who my son had spotted yesterday afternoon, lazing on an embankment of rocks on the cliff face, probably 20 feet below us.
My attempts to photograph him yesterday had produced the result of a mound of brown rocks; he had camouflaged himself so well!
This morning, however, there he was as large as life, sunning himself on the grass beside the pathway, posing beautifully for a photo! After our photo shoot, he headed back to the safety of his rocky embankment.
Eastern Water Dragon
I’m confident in identifying my little model as an Eastern Water Dragon.
To say that I have reached an epiphany would be an understatement. I need to get out more; to explore my home area, my Touch of Paradise, with my eyes wide open and all of my six, (yes six!), senses, completely in tune to my surroundings.
And all of my discoveries will be written of, with accompanying photographs, right here. 🙂
Well, I am happy to report that the day did not disappoint. In fact, it exceeded all expectations!
Not in the least bit deterred by the fact that at his new school, his year alone contained half the population of the entire school he had previously attended, this morning my son calmly prepared his lunch and packed his books into his new school bag, in preparation for his first day of school for the year.
Expectations will remain high, from the point of view of the school, at least. For my boy to retain his position in the Academic Excellence classes in which he has been placed, his grades must remain at B- or above.
He’s not concerned in the slightest! In fact, I would like to a make written record right here, to refer back to in December this year, stating that my ambitious son, during this past weekend, has declared that he will end this year as the Grade 8 Dux!
As he climbed into the back seat of my car this afternoon, he announced to my daughter and I that he had just experienced the fastest school day of his entire school life!
I think I can safely say that this transfer of schools is showing extremely positive aspects, right from day one!
On the way home, we stopped off at Baskin Robbins ice cream shop. My boy was famished!
With all ice creams carefully steadied, we headed on up to Point Danger, a local landmark and lookout.
What a gloriously crystal clear day we have had today! After ice creams were devoured, my son and I went off for a walk, camera in hand, leaving Miss Eighteen to “chill” in the car, listening to music.
Chillin'
Most of the photos I took turned out very well indeed, considering the age and quality of my camera. (***Added to my wish list today, under the heading “Top Priority” ~ an upgrade on my camera!***)
My son starts at his new school tomorrow. And whilst saddened by the end of his summer school holidays, as he is every year, he is also excited.
Such is his anticipation and joy at starting his new school, he told me that he can’t describe how happy he is. The words escape him!
My son isn’t the only one trying to contain his anticipation of the events about to unfold.
The latter months of last year brought about many changes in my life also. With the groundwork begun and the foundation stones set in place, this next week is my time to continue on with my plans, which have been temporarily put on hold due to the Christmas and New Year break.
It isn’t all about making changes, though. It’s also about learning; and reading. It’s about new knowledge, knowledge which has always been there, but I just wasn’t ready to hear.
Reading, research, action, planning, working….
Listening with my heart, following my instincts, new beginnings….
Working towards finding answers; at times momentarily revisiting the past to make further progress into the future….
Travelling, making memories….
Taking stock, discarding that which is no longer required, simplifying my mind, my life….
Just as Pocahontas did, I will listen to and follow the wind.
The feelings of freedom are already there. The Universe has plans, and my heart is open to listening to the messages I receive as the days, months and the year unfolds.
Are you listening with your heart wide open to the plans The Universe has awaiting you?
When you are looking for change, and want the change, and feeling the change you are wanting, it will begin to happen.
Events will unfold before your eyes, showing you the correct path to follow to bring about the changes you are wanting.
Begin each day with your eyes wide open. You won’t miss a thing.
The 26th January is a day of celebration for Australia, a day which we simply call “Australia Day”.
In honour of Australia Day, I would like to share a beautiful poem by the famous Australian, Dorothea Mackellar.
The Colours of Light ~ Dorothea Mackellar (1885 – 1968)
This is not easy to understand
For you that come from a distant land
Where all the colours are low in pitch –
Deep purples, emeralds deep and rich,
Where autumn’s flaming and summer’s green –
Here is a beauty you have not seen.
All is pitched in a higher key,
Lilac, topaz, and ivory,
Palest jade-green and pale clear blue
Like aquamarines that the sun shines through,
Golds and silvers, we have at will –
Silver and gold on each plain and hill,
Silver-green of the myall leaves,
Tawny gold of the garnered sheaves,
Silver rivers that silent slide,
Golden sands by the water-side,
Golden wattle, and golden broom,
Silver stars of the rosewood bloom;
Amber sunshine, and smoke-blue shade:
Opal colours that glow and fade;
On the gold of the upland grass
Blue cloud-shadows that swiftly pass;
Wood-smoke blown in an azure mist;
Hills of tenuous amethyst. . .
Oft the colours are pitched so high
The deepest note is the cobalt sky;
We have to wait till the sunset comes
For shades that feel like the beat of drums –
Or like organ notes in their rise and fall –
Purple and orange and cardinal,
Or the peacock-green that turns soft and slow
To peacock-blue as the great stars show . . .
Sugar-gum boles flushed to peach-blow pink;
Blue-gums, tall at the clearing’s brink;
Ivory pillars, their smooth fine slope
Dappled with delicate heliotrope;
Grey of the twisted mulga-roots;
Golden-bronze of the budding shoots;
Tints of the lichens that cling and spread,
Nile-green, primrose, and palest red . . .
Sheen of the bronze-wing; blue of the crane;
Fawn and pearl of the lyrebird’s train;
Cream of the plover; grey of the dove –
These are the hues of the land I love.
An incident which took place in my life a number of years ago, leaving lasting repercussions, began a conscious effort for me to define the word “perfect”.
Before the incident took place, I hadn’t questioned the word at all, believing I knew exactly what it meant.
Perfect for me was the right amount of salt on my chips to suit my taste or the right position for my chair to be arranged so I could read clearly from the light coming through the window when I sat there.
They were the times when I may well declare that it was “perfect”, meaning perfect for me.
Maybe not so perfect for someone else, but I could accept that. “Different strokes for different folks”, as the saying goes. The word perfect had not been an issue to me.
Until the day I lost a friend, after my use of the word.
An old school friend and I had kept in touch through letter writing for some years. After the birth of my fourth child I wrote to her with my good news, knowing she would be happy to share my excitement.
Not so. I had explained to my old friend the joy that my three other children had shown in welcoming their new baby brother, telling her how he was the perfect addition to our family.
My friend had one son, an adorable little boy, regardless of having been born with many disabilities. His personality shone through his health problems and the look of love lit up his huge brown eyes.
Her letter of reply after my announcement of my child’s birth stunned me. She no longer wished to continue our friendship as she felt the word “perfect” to be a slur at her son.
I questioned myself. Had I been insensitive to my friend’s feelings? She had always been happy to hear stories I had told her of my children, just as I enjoyed hearing about her son.
Or had she?
Eventually, after many months of soul-searching and many conversations with another friend who has an autistic child, I sadly concluded that my lost friend felt so much grief over her child that it was too much for her to cope with.
There was nothing I could say to her to console her; her mind was made up.
Call me strange if you like, but to me, imperfections make perfection!
Dictionary definition, adjective, perfect ~ “of or marked by supreme moral excellence; holy; immaculate, free from any flaw or defect of quality”.
To be honest, classic perfection makes me nervous!
These are some of my definitions of perfection ~
The knots in a piece of wood, showing the flaws of nature.
The comfort and softness of sitting in a well loved chair.
The ruggedness of the stonework used to construct old buildings.
The bite marks in my furniture, still evident from the days when my eldest son was teething.
The curls in my daughter’s hair, which she claims “sit funny”.
The irregular textures in a ball of natural wool when I’m knitting.
The wrinkles around an old person’s eyes, showing they have really enjoyed living their life.
The gnarled branches of a tree, twisting up to the sky.
The scar on my daughter’s knee, a reminder of her clumsiness, the day she went away on year six school camp.
The jagged rock-face beside the ocean, formed through years of crashing ocean waves.
My list of perfections would be endless!
Perhaps I could sum up my own definition of perfect this way ~
“Distinct irregularities on an object or person, each flaw telling a story all of its own”.
My definition of the word perfect will never make it to the “Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, Volume II”, and I can live with that.
It’s time for the world to embrace the perfect imperfections of everyone, and everything. 🙂
