Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
–Robert Frost
These last weeks I’ve been having a most beautiful experience being treated to live chapter readings, reflections read to me at regularly random times by my aunt, from her upcoming book 'The Art of Flow: Reflections of a Constant Traveler'.
Having worked my way through editing a book she sensed my staying power and appreciated the opportunity to have a deep listener at the other end of the line, one whose eyes wouldn't glaze over with revisions or feedback or musings or multiple readings and discussion. I appreciated the opportunity for something unexpected to look forward to each day, or whenever it fell, the synchronicities, the...surprises...the symphony... Being read to is a pretty special thing...as is being asked for my feedback.
The experience has been a treasure of it’s own, and in a way has also filled the gap of having a break from my own traveling adventures, usually with my mate Gary ... that have been necessarily put on hold for the moment yet are still being lived and relived through photos, videos, and dreams that allow the colours and textures we captured along the way to emerge in a different form, through art, clay and reminiscings mostly... and who knows how else.
My aunt is a poet and lover of poetry, and this poem from Robert Frost featured in the reflection we read together yesterday. It’s an approach to life I breathe strongly plus turns out it works nicely with a photo Gary just pulled from the archives of our April outback trip that I hadn’t seen before.
For Gary and I it is usually pretty clear which road to choose, even if it's a slower journey, actually preferably if it's a slower journey–– the dirt road. This year it became even clearer as within seconds of departing our beloved dirt roads back to the much avoided bitumen we would become sleepy within seconds... losing touch with the earth, and the relationship that offers, has a cost.
This particular day was one of the hottest days of our trip, around 35 degrees –– Mutawinji NP. I took a drive. In part for some alone time, in part to get a reprieve from the heat as well as to recce a suitable full moon vantage spot for the full moon rise, which had been on our minds for days. To get to the spot in this pic we eased the car past a service barrier, crossed a dry river bed, and chose a particular track at a fork in the road, one of those forks that makes a difference.
To refer to my aunt’s exquisitely evocative collection of memories, thoughts, ideas, poetry (hers and theirs) as reflections doesn’t fully convey the impact. Each time I feel them meddling inside me, coralling, offering jumping off points around themes of interest to both of us, her words and gatherings sparking mine such that what already emerged gets a chance to meet what’s still emerging.
So together, buffered by poetry, exaltation, and the elements and places that anchor and hold us in communion, we are making our way through an unfolding maze on a journey into flow, transformation, and being... exploring and remembering those spaces between aspects of what we know and who we are, where we’ve been or are headed…allowing a personal sense of past and possibility to entangle us in webs and threads of becoming.
Becoming…that emergent place without borders that my aunt is enamoured with (as much as she is enamoured with poetry I would say.)
Mutawinji NP April 2023
xx
Jacqui