While this sounds like an ideal title for a spiritual, self-help book using the imagery of trekking, it’s not.
However, I would like to bring up certain reflections whilst I was doing a day hike with my sister in Andorra, Spain.
We started our trek at ten in the morning, armed with warm clothing, combat boots (for me) and packed lunches, we attempted one of the easier hikes, a supposed two hour trek to the Salamandres lakes (a rough translation.) It was to be my first real trek, and tiring as it was for an individual like myself who’s not in his peak physical performance, but the memories are staggering, and no medium of audio nor visual can truly do justice to what’s burned into my psyche.
Firstly, we were walking a path dutifully maintained by other trackers, so there were good directions and signs left behind by people who maintain the trail. In that sense, it was easy, but my sister brought up a point about the original trekkers, the trailblazers who literally cut a trail so that others may follow. We constantly talk about this idea when it comes to doing business or pursuing creative goals. Do something different, walk a path that nobody follows, carve out your own niche. Big words for small dreams if I might be cynical enough to offer my coffee house discussion.
Trailblazing is not easy, and when it comes to trekking, it becomes dangerous. One slip and you’re lost, fallen off an edge, broken bones, fractured necks.. the risks are rather paramount, and for those of us who want to at least experience what these stalwarts have achieved, it only makes sense to follow in their footsteps. Literally.
However, the sense of awe and adventure do of course come into play. Imagine, if you were the only one walking into unchartered territory. I almost got that sense as we were the only two people walking the trail in the godforsaken conditions of winter. But as you stand alone in the vast open spaces of tundra shrubbery flanked by endless mountains that seem to reach across the horizon to heaven itself, that sense of achievement, that you’re the only souls to experience something significant, it truly is an astounding elation.
Which leads me to the next point of enjoying the sound of silence. For someone who’s constantly plugged in, augmented by music or technology of some sort, my mind was a veritable blank. No songs came to mind except the songs of creation and majesty that I sing about in church. Sure they might be geological constructs, and looking at the markings, paths, rock cairns left behind by trekkers before it dawned on me that humans make sense of their surroundings by putting order to nature, but what if for every random artifact we find in nature truly is the orderly construct of God himself.
It was a bracing notion, an encouragement that there is nothing random for the omnipotent. Humbling surely, but I was at ease to surrender that part of my intellect to something greater. And the silence, the sound of your own breathing, of your own heart beating, the signs of life in a most otherwise lonely part of the world. It makes you think, we’re never truly alone as long as your vital signs still blip and bloop within our biological vessels.
Finally, the ‘rest-step’. A trick my sister taught me to haul myself up steep inclines so that weight is evenly distributed and the strain on your leg muscles is eased. A simple repositioning of your body and the careful adjustment of how we normally walk and take for granted, allow one to achieve much greater heights.
The simple lesson, or life hack that comes from someone more experienced than you, points you along the right path and you get to make it out alive. Mentorship is what comes to mind, but I suppose you get the imagery of all that.
The reason why my last paragraph seemed rather brisk, is because I’m trying to end things off because I have a bus to catch. So with that, I’ll see y’all on the other side.
Hopefully bu Tuesday, the cast on my left arm can be taken off, and I can finally carry on with my life per normal. Be that the case, I reckon I’ll miss it somewhat. The conversations I get from random strangers, the way I clumsily try to get things done, or cover it with a plastic bag with each shower. If anything, it was the very strange experience of effectively having only one arm.
Not being able to physically do many things, meant that my mind went on overdrive, but was still paced with not being able to follow through with physical action, that resulted in more detailed thought processes that ensured economy of motion to maximise effectiveness.
It’s funny how it takes a disability to teach you that, step back, don’t immerse yourself in the trenches, and forget the campaign that needs fighting.
Why so militaristic?
I don’t know. Maybe it’s the way my brain draws connection to the concept of strife and obstacles. When I was in the army, that was probably the only time I had to rely on a fighting spirit to see me through certain exercises, that right now it’s just a reflex, conditioned response.
I’m a fighter, not a lover.
And so, I’m thinking about the two or three weeks of break time I will have before I finally start teaching (for real.) Yes, I really am going to be a teacher. I have a contract with the Ministry of Education to teach English and Social Studies. It’s finally happening, life is starting to happen again. While I’d been working for the past two months, it’s only been a short term arrangement, whereas this new arrangement, will be more long term, and I can start rebuilding my life and relationships around this new arrangement.
It’s going to be pretty exciting, I’ve never been more fired up about trying to juggle my bands, commitments and writing engagements all at once. I’ll have to choose carefully just where my time goes. But I think this time away from regular work, while tough in terms of surviving, or having a life (little cash flow), has really opened my eyes and broadened my horizons past my perceptions of my previous industry. I think I’m walking into this new chapter with a whole new set of priorities, and my only wish is that I can finish as well as when I started, hopefully for the better.
But yes, there are some new toys that I really want to purchase, that will allow me to pursue other aspects of my craft to a new level. This is a benefit of having direction I suppose. It focuses your thoughts, and channels your energy into a generator that actually converts it into a usable fuel.
And so with that, here’s to new chapters, new directions and constant surprises.
It was supposed to be a cool July evening with a slight drizzle outside. But it stopped, and the muggy humidity has set back in. Still, it’s nice to find a few quiet moment before I fade into blissful rest.
It’s been a crazy three weeks as I found a job for the next two months before I start teaching, played gigs, had rehearsals, was part of a wedding entourage, and even fractured my wrist! But more importantly, I was with the family and friends that I love.
Won’t say much more now, but I’ll let the pictures do the talking:
A fairly resounding day with me presenting to a class of nine, 14 year old students a compact, two hour introduction to making documentaries and some erstwhile tips to surviving the process. It was a lot to condense, and I didn’t have that much time to prepare, but if you can be bothered to look through the presentation, there are links at the end of it that points to the examples I used to highlight what documentaries could be.
After that, it was off to a social gathering organised by my church’s young adults’ network. I thought it was quite a nice gathering from folk, and I caught up with a few leaders who were older than me, and we talked about my decision to start teaching (in September). I suppose it was kind of cathartic for me, and also introspective to listen to the accounts of people who have been there before me.
So there was food, and there were sodas, someone made incredible cheesecakes (that were generous with the crumbly base.) But things really picked up when my friend showed up with his incredible “Horse Head”. If you wear this, you inadvertently turn into Horse Head Man. Here are the pictures:
“To kill a Horse Head Man”
Lens: Helga Viking
Film: Pisitl
“Let all creation sing..”
Lens: Helga Viking
Film: Pistil
“Validation”
Lens: Helga Viking
Film: Pistil
“Nothing to see here”
Lens: Quadcamera
If you would like, you can view the rest of the set here. –> link
And lastly, I was just thinking, before I die, or after I die, I would like to publish all my personal entries into a book entitled “The Published Work Of The Misadventures Of Brian Leery.”
I’ll admit that one of the better things about growing up, is enjoying afternoon beers at your local pub without the guilt of being underaged. But that’s just a small perk. Anyway, I do enjoy these moments of beer, talk and watching life go by.
About two weeks ago, Xander, Mo, Amanda and I set off to the National Museum to check out the exhibition on ancient Egypt. It was fun, especially when we made silly jokes at almost everything. But on a more serious note, we saw a wrapped up mummy and many wonderful artifacts, thousands of years old. It kind of blows my mind at how well preserved, or salvaged these once everyday items used to be.
Maybe someday this blog will belong under layers and layers of data.
Outside the National Museum
Inside the National Museum
A walkway to another exhibit.
My mummy lovers.
Sorry there aren’t any photos of the exhibit, my iPhone sucks in low light conditions. And I realise my pictures have nothing to do with the exhibit. But I suppose this will make do, that I still meet people in real life.
Just some random shots with my hipstamatic app on the iPhone. I do like black and white photography, and maybe I’ll pursue it to some degree in the near future.
I went down to the second Singapore Tat2 Show with Chloe Leow on Friday, thanks to media invites from the PR team. So here are some snaps, using my new favourite hipstamatic application for the iPhone.
Chris Garver at work, apparently on a sweet tiger design.
Maybe he wanted it to go with his board shorts.
If you were getting inked on your kneecap, you’d be making the same face.
Sweet John Lenon ink. Miss Norma Jean not so much..
Yes. His ass! Also looks like some kind of Yakuza entourage.
Jeremy (left) uses the traditional Borneo method to knock ink into your bare skin.
Getting ink on his neck. No wonder you just look tough with ink on.
I’ve been busy rehearsing with a bunch of fantastic musicians from church for the Anglican Diocese’s Centenary Inter-Generational Service (ie. A Big Thing) for the past four months. Everything culminates tomorrow, and today was our final dress rehearsal.
So I guess these are just some pictures from before the big day.
The empty exhibition hall, where we’re expecting more than 20,000 people for both services.
I’ve always loved the way an erhu sounds, and it was a privilege to play alongside a fabulous player. There was also a tabla drummer, and I love the unique layers of sound each of these traditional instruments bring.
Up close and personal with Daryl, one of the electric guitarists, and we’re backed by a choir too!
