Anna-Maryke on Emergence:
You have got to stop and quietly contemplate and things will keep emerging from the detail and the shadows.via Photographer Anna-Maryke Grey's still lifes are a slow burn at Head On Photo Festival by Nick Galvin.
Showing posts sorted by date for query quietly. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by date for query quietly. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Emergence - Anna-Maryke (Wed 04 May 2016)
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Street Portrait - Dark Tranquilli - Barcelona (Tue 06 Aug 2013)
StreetSooter (*) writes On Photography (*), Life (*) and Light (*):
I felt like THE LORD was shining a light (*) for me to make a photo….Oh man, what a feeling…it was like an experience that one should remember for eternity. I raised the Leica with the 35cron and just as I put it to my eye….via Fuji XP1 & 35mm Find The Light … and Some Other Things (*) by StreetSooter (*).
I kinda heard a voice in my head and I thought it was THE LORD as he said….Schmuck, your shooting TRI-X.
Those are the kind of experiences (*) that effect your life…or not! For me things like that leave me open to the possibilities of what ever life throws at me.
The light (*) in this beautiful old passageway, a couple of blocks off the more touristy boulevards, had lined up to be directly along its path. I remember standing to the side and quietly taking a few candid Street Portraits (*) that day (*).
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
A few ways to increase your connection to your photography - Kirk Tuck (Thu 23 Feb 2012)
Kirk Tuck (*) writes:
To do what you like in your work, separate from the buzz. [..]From A few ways to increase your connection to your photography (*) by Kirk Tuck (*) - Thu 23 Feb 2012.Having a project will move you to take chances. [..] You'll need to discipline yourself to do the [..] And you'll need to learn how to finish.
- slow down [..] If you slow down and concentrate on the kinds of images that bring you real joy you'll find a tighter bond with your own work.
- Stop looking at all the sharing sites - When you turn off the outside influences and sit quietly with your own thoughts about art and photography you begin to understand the way you like to see and share art. That's valuable. Everything else is unconscious imitation.
- Do a project - Consistency of vision and subject are worthwhile goals for all artists. Set yourself to the task of creating a body of consistent work. Choose a subject that you love and explore it in depth. Ignore everything else.
- When you choose to do a project have a a goal - Wouldn't it be great if it changed some lives? But no matter where it ends up I will have met interesting people who've taken charge of their own lives and excelled. What fun role models. And the art will be my souvenir of my time spent with them. The prints will be part of the sharing.
- Start thinking beyond the screen - [..] When you slow down and do your art try to go through the whole process of bringing an image to life before you rush out the door to fill up more memory cards and hard drives.
- Really explore the images in front of you. Edit them down. Make them perfect and then print them large [..] Print them till you love them. And learn from the process of presentation. Learn what you like to see, big. The art becomes both portable and present when you pull it off the screen and onto paper. Be sure to go through the whole process so you understand in your gut what you've really created. It will slow you down [..] and focus it on doing work that makes you smile. You are the first audience.
- Finally, forget the online critiques - Find people in your own town, city, region whose work you admire and approach them about forming a sharing circle. Just like a writer's group.
Having a goal for your work gives it extra meaning.
Sharing the work with live people standing in front of you builds real confidence in the work. Having real critiques is painful but helps engender real growth. Helping real, human, non-virtual friends succeed with their own art is part of a rewarding virtuous circle. Embrace it.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Contact Sheets (picasa) - New York City - Lower East (Wed 17 Aug 2011)
187 Photos - all in an afternoons wanderings.
Contact Sheets of the photos I took on the afternoon of Wed 17 Aug 2011.
Later that evening after walking across the Brooklyn Bridge (*) for the second time, I remember sitting on a train on the subway on my way from the Bridge to 80th Street on the west side of Central Park. I just sat quietly on my seat and decided to review my photos on the back of the camera in slideshow mode. I was tired from a long day wandering around and I went into a daze and a kind of trance as the subway stations passed by and the photos scrolled by on the rear screen on the back of my little Canon S95.
At one of the subway stops well up the line, the young lady sitting next to me, as she got up to exit the train, touched me on the forearm and said they are really nice photos. I was touched (*) by the compliment and said thanks. Such a small gesture from a stranger so far away from home - put a smile on my face and inflated my confidence (*). Probably one of the nicest moments on the whole trip.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
stay calm and go as hard as possible - Cadel Evans - Sydney Morning Herald (Sat 23 Jul 2011)
From today's Sydney Morning Herald (*), Cadel Evans (*, *) told Rupert Guinness (*) before last nights epic stage:..
All you have to do is stay calm and go as hard as possible from the start to the finish. It's quite simple, [..]Cadel's pre-stage words were almost prophetic.
You are only riding a bike from point A to point B, but in terms of technique there is so much in terms of pedalling and breathing, and there are the corners. Just concentrating and riding out beyond your limit is very taxing.
Brillant ride by Cadel last night. He had a mechanical (*) and did not panic or get upset (as most of Australia did). He worked out the problem, kept riding until his team car caught up with him. Unlike David Millar from a few years ago, Cadel gently dropped his old bike and quietly mounted his new bike and got on with the job. Inspiration stuff and a lesson to us all.
Cadel, is doing this on his own. No French or Spanish friends in the Peleton like the rest of them.
Love the transformation in your attitude Cadel. All the best for the Time Trial (*) - the Race of Truth (*) - tonight.
Go Cadel - you are on the Edge of Glory (*).
Random Recollections: Reminds me of the poster and a book I bought in Ealling, London back in Sep 2009 (I bought the book just after taking the photo of the Pink Bike - it's a classic book - had not laughed so much in a long time) ..
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Jenny - St George Private Hospital (11:48am Tue 23 Jun 2009)
Another turning point
A fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist
directs you where to go
So make the best of this test
and don't ask why
It's not a question
But a lesson learned in time
It's something unpredictable
But in the end is right
I hope you had the time
of your life
So take the photographs
and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf
in good health and good time
Time of your Life by Green Day
The last photo I took of Jenny before her heart failed, about an hour later, while she was having her lunch. I have written briefly about it here:There seemed to be so much hope as I took this photo.
For me, it was the hope that we could take her home (she had negotiated it to be Wed, so Jo and I could go to our Aus Dragon Boat training session that Tue night) and care for her until she quietly left us, like Jenny and Jo had done with Margaret, their mother, 10 years earlier.
It was not meant to be and it is amazing how quickly things can change and how you need to accept, adapt and let go to the circumstances which we are confronted with as we move through life.
It is in these moments that I came to fully understand the following words from Paulo Coehlo's novel, The Fifth Mountain (which I would read 6 months later):
Fear reaches only to the point where the unavoidable begins; from there on, it loses its meaning. And all we have left is the hope that we are making the right decision.A story for another day.
For now, I remember Jenny and the final week of her life, that she spent in Intensive Care Unit of St George Private Hospital, before she left us on Tue 30 Jun 2009.
Postscript
Amazingly, about an hour after posting the above (maybe about the time Jenny's heart failed two years earlier), a post titled Regrets came through from Paulo Coelho. It is based on this post:
It touchs on the time I had hoped for at home with Jenny and things we might have been able to talk about.
In the end, she left us very suddenly (and with much trauma - unlike her Mothers passing which was very peaceful and serene, if you can understand that) and we were not able to say goodbye.
I carry some of the regrets Bronnie mentions, but in the end I would like to think we lived a good life that allowed us to make the most of the time we had together.
The Cancer made us better people and we did live life to full - Do what you can, when you can. I would say. For Jenny, it was Don't Wonder 'What If?'. Every time we parted, I would say I love you and often many times in between.
One thing I know for sure, it is that through Jenny's life and passing, I have become a better person - I feel guilty about this in many ways, but at the same time I draw some comfort.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Things forbidden us by the quickness of the moment, and the social constraint against looking ..
On Street Photography - TR Smith (Online Photographer - Tue 10 May 2011) ..
It was easy to spot the lady in the pink dress holding a can of beer - Brussels being the home of beer to many.
She circled rather randomly in front of us and then sat beside us. Unknowing to her, I snapped the following sequence of photos, which to me seem to capture some of the sentiments from the above quote.
Street Photography #1 - Brussels / Belgium (Wed 09 Sep 2009)
Street Photography #2 - Brussels / Belgium (Wed 09 Sep 2009)
Street Photography #3 - Brussels / Belgium (Wed 09 Sep 2009)
the most interesting images would likely come from breaking commonplace social conventions, and going where people do not often go, looking where people do not often look. [..]Random Recollection: We sat quietly on some steps in front of a large hall in Central Brussels to rest our legs and to watch the crowd pass by.
that consists of paying attention to things that we generally pass by without looking at closely.
Things forbidden us by the quickness of the moment, and the social constraint against looking.
It was easy to spot the lady in the pink dress holding a can of beer - Brussels being the home of beer to many.
She circled rather randomly in front of us and then sat beside us. Unknowing to her, I snapped the following sequence of photos, which to me seem to capture some of the sentiments from the above quote.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Wind in the Willows - Qingpu / China (20 Oct 2004)
"Trees are exceptional, people [..]
Belonging fully to earth but living also in sky
They have no death but only transformations."
From Future Now by Tessa Ransford
Jenny always loved this photo which I took while Jenny and Joanne participated in the 2004 World Dragon Boat Championships at Qingpu, a lakeside race course, about 50 km to the west of Shanghai. I had it professionally printed in A4 and A3 sizes with a selection of my favourite photos. Jenny always wanted me to frame it and put it up somewhere in the living area so we could remember our trip to Qingpu and Shanghai as well as enjoy the intricate and subtle details of the sunset silhouetted wind blown willow.
Whenever Jenny went into Hospital we always put photos up around her room and it was always a great way to generate a bit of conversation with the many Hospital Satff that were in and out of her room.
When Jenny went into ICU for the final week of her life, I pulled the A4 print of this photo out of the pile of prints I had had made and placed it on a column in front of her bed in the vague hope that she might see and recognise it.
On the day before Jenny died Joanne picked up the photo and moved it across Jenny's face and we were excited to see her eyes follow it - the first sign to us of some improvement in her condition. I went off to an outrigging canoe training session that Monday night happier than I had been in a long time and I arranged to see her on the way home, well after the normal visiting hours.
When I arrived into the ICU about 9.30pm, it was a different place to the busy and noisy place it was during the day. It was very quiet and the lights were dimmed apart from a soft spot light above Jenny's bed. She was asleep and looked very relaxed, the most relaxed I had seen her in the two weeks she had been in hospital. I decided not to wake her and sat quietly at her bed side and watched her steady breathing. I spoke quietly and proudly to Jenny's dedicated nurse about Jenny's life. I left Jenny that night not knowing that it would be the last time I would see her alive.
At 9.16am on Tue 30 Jun 2009 (the next morning), Jenny left us without Joanne or I by her bedside. Yet I know, Jenny was not alone, as the above photo, the one she loved so much, looked over her as she broke free from this world.
Just as the above poem extracts indicates, it might be nice to think that Jenny transformed herself into our memories:
They have no death but only transformationsIt is through our memories of Jenny that she lives on.
I will frame both A4 and A3 prints once I find a place for them and myself. For the moment I am happy to have written this post (which i had planned to do for a long time) which was inspired by the above poem extract. Thanks Charlotte.
Thanks to LottieP for allowing me to find the above extract from a poem by Tessa Ransford via her post of a beautiful poem titled The White Stone of Lewis.
(My first post from an iPad while on a weeks holiday at Coolangatta.)
Friday, March 18, 2011
Rabbit Hole - Sydney Morning Herald - Spectrum (Sat 19 Feb 2011)
Gained a couple of insights from watching this movie and then having a look around the web where I found a couple of good reviews written by Grief Counsellors:
- Unbearable Grief in Rabbit Hole (2010) by Joseph Burgo, and
- A Grief Therapist’s Film Perspective: The Rabbit Hole by Beth S. Patterson
Change is part of the grief process too.Had kind of worked this out for myself (i.e. in order to move forward, you need to adapt, otherwise you can get stuck) and was actually going to write about it to mark the 2nd anniversary of this little Blog, which passed quietly while I was in Auckland for the Takapuna Cup. In the end I did not get around to posting (happens a lot - only a fraction of what I would like to post makes it here - have started so many posts that never quite get finished).
Grief changes us.
We are never the same after a major loss.
In fact, part of the process of grief is to find one’s “new normal.”
Conversely, as we change, our grief changes.
As Leah’s mother eloquently describes it, grief is like a brick in one’s pocket – we always feel it, but over time it feels less heavy. After some time, we can actually forget that it’s there sometimes, but memories come back, and we feel the brick again.
Anyway, what I had thought I would write about for that unwritten 2nd Anniversay Post was how my life (and is some ways my identity) had changed since that first post on the Wed 25 Feb 2009 and how I thought the blog might give some indication to what I am passionate about, who I was , the transition to who I have become and where I am heading, at least in the short-term.
I have enjoyed the Blogging. It has given me a creative outlet and has kept my mind stimulated. It is fun to look over what I have written. Like a photograph, I can remember the feelings and the reasons why I might have written the post.
Finally, as Ken Burns said at the 2004 Commencement Yale Class Day Speech (as pdf):
Write: write letters. Keep journals. Besides your children, there is no surer way of achieving immortality. Remember, too, there is nothing more incredible than being a witness to history.Keep on Blogging.
Regards .. Geoff
Sunday, August 15, 2010
RPA Tribute to the late Professor Chris O'Brien
Professor Chris O'Brien passed away on Thursday evening, 4th June 2009. This tribute is from the conclusion of the RPA episode which aired on Wednesday evening, 10th June on the Nine Network.
Jenny and I watched this when it aired on RPA on Wed 10 Jun 2010. Jenny that afternoon had received a phone call confirming her suspicions that she had a brain tumor. She rang me at work to tell me and I quietly shed tears as she explained the details to me. We all knew this was going to be different. It was the progression of the cancer that she feared most.
Joanne was not able to watch this episode with us - I can't remember why - but I had it recorded on my PVR, and Jenny and I thought we would play it to her at some stage.
Late the next day we saw Jodi (Jenny's Oncologist) in a corridor meeting at the St George Cancer Center. She had the brain scans and we saw a large tumor on the left side of Jenny's brain.
Things progressed quickly from there and on Wed 17 Jun 2009 Dr Davies performed a 4 hour operation at the St George Private Hospital to remove the tumor. Six days later on Tue 23 Jun 2009, a day before Jenny was scheduled to return home, her heart failed and we almost lost her there.
The next six days were very difficult and Jenny was unable to move by herself. This resulted in a significant build up of fuild in her lungs. I was called to the Hospital at 9:15am on Tue 30 Jun 2009. All I was told was to "hurry". I rang David to tell him that he should call Joanne at School and get her to come to the Hospital as quickily as she could. As I approached the ICU, I thought I needed to call Jodi, Jenny's Oncologist. No need to, as I rounded the corner, I could see Jodie and when I saw her I knew what had happened. She hugged me with tears in her eyes and told me that Jenny had passed away - Jenny's lungs had failed from a massive pulmonary hemorrhage and she left us at 9:16am on Tue 30 Jun 2009.
I said to Jodi I had not expected it to end this way. For some time I had thought we would have Jenny at home for a final few months of caring for her as she quietly left us - just as Jenny and Joanne had done with their mother. Jodie told me you can never tell how it will end and that for Jenny "it started with the lungs and ended with the lungs".
Though Jenny never met Chris O'Brien face to face, they were rather well connected in many ways, not just through their cancers. Jenny was the Sutherland Shire Relay for Life Survivor Representative in 2007 and she spoke to a large crowd at the Candle Ceremony on the day of the Relay.
The next year, Chris O'Brien was the Survivor Representative and it was his turn to speak at the Candle Ceremony. We almost got a photo with him after his talk, but he was in a dinner suit and had to rush off to a Charlie Teo Foundation (Cure for Life Foundation) Dinner.
The last talk Jenny gave was on the 1 April 2009 at the Riverview School in Lane Cove. The talk was given to approximately 200 Year 9 and 10 boys. They were mesmerised and inspired by her story of hope, courage and strength. Jenny was also touched by the fact that the guest speaker they had a month earlier was Dr Chris O'Brien, a person she felt quite connected with. He made sense to her through his own public journey with cancer.
On Fri 3 Jul 2009, as Joanne and I readied ourselves for Jenny's Funeral on Mon 6 Jul 2009, we found a spare moment and I played this video for Joanne to finaly watch. It was a moving moment.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
The Lucky Ones
This is a work in progress. It has been in my head for a long time now, but it has been hard to write. Hopefully, it will make sense. I expect to modify it a bit over the next few weeks, but at least it is a start.
A few months before Jenny died, I read Lance Armstrong's book entitled "Its not about the bike". Jenny had been given a copy by a long time friend, Mena, not long after the book was first published here in Australia (sometime around 2002/3 I am guessing). She read the book quickly and I know she got a lot from the pages. For some reason I did not read the book until early May 2009.
Geoff, Jenny, Mena, Steve and Joanne - Natation DB Titles - Kawana / Qld - Sat 25 Apr 2009 (picasa)
I bought my own copy so that I could read the book that meant so much to Jenny. I think I was motivated by the fact the Jenny was progressing to the final stages of her Cancer (at least that is reluctantly what I quietly started to think - she had just been diagnosed with multiple tumors in her liver on the 11 Mar 2009 - not a very promising situation). I thought I might find something in the pages to understand her and our situation.
I read the book, intermittently over a few weeks, at my local coffee shop before work and on the train to work. There was lots of the book that resonated with me, particularly his encounters with cancer. One part in particular struck a chord with me. It was about a half through, where he writes about what he felt during chemotherapy following neurosurgery to remove a beign brain tumor.
What is stronger, fear or hope? It's an interesting question, and perhaps even an important one. Initially, I was very fearful and without much hope, but as I sat there and absorbed the full extent of my illness, I refused to let the fear completely blot out my optimism. Something told me that fear should never fully rule the heart, and I decided not to be afraid.
I wanted to live, but whether I would or not was a mystery, and in the midst of confronting that fact, even at that moment, I was beginning to sense that to stare into the heart of such a fearful mystery wasn't a bad thing. To be afraid is a priceless education. Once you have been that scared, you know more about your frailty than most people, and I think that changes a man. I was brought low, and there was nothing to take refuge in but the philosophical: this disease would force me to ask more of myself as person than I ever had before, and to seek out a different ethic.
A couple of days earlier, I had received an e-mail from a military guy stationed in Asia. He was a fellow cancer patient, and he wanted to tell me something.
"You don't know it yet," he wrote, "but we're the lucky ones."
I'd said aloud, "This guy's a nut."
What on earth could he mean?
When I read this, I stored it away in my mind, eagerly awaiting Lance's own answer to this question - lucky .. What on earth could he mean?. It would come quietly on the last page of the book.
"You don't know it yet, but we're the lucky ones," my fellow cancer patient had written.
I will always carry the lesson of cancer with me, and feel that I'm a member of the cancer community. I believe I have an obligation to make something better out of my life than before, and to help my fellow human beings who are dealing with the disease. It's a community of shared experience. Anyone who has heard the words You have cancer and thought, "Oh, my God, I'm going to die," is a member of it. If you've ever belonged, you never leave.
Jenny had often indicated that she felt lucky (I think in both aspects - that of surviving an aggressive cancer and oddly enough, having had had cancer). She said this in the Australian Story Episode, "In the Pink":
'I don't understand how things work out, and why things work out the way they do. I feel like I've been lucky. I don't understand how cancer works, I don't know why I've been blessed the way I have been.'
Jenny - Australian Story - "In the Pink - Kirrawee - May 2004 (picasa)
and in her Talks:
'I feel I am so lucky and have a wonderful life. I have had some great opportunities through breast cancer to meet some very inspiring people. Geoff and Jo have been a constant source of support for me. Breast cancer has totally changed my life but for the best.'
Relay for Life 2007 - Jenny - Survivor Representative - Sylvania Waters - Sat 28 Apr 2007 (picasa)
The Rainbow Connection - Phil, John, Marj, Jenny, Liz, Noel - Phil passed away shortly after this photo was taken - he often spoke to Jenny about how luck seemed to play a big part in how things worked out, but sometimes you make you own luck - Rely for Life 2003 - Sylvania Waters - Sat 31 May 2003 - (picasa)
As Jenny's International Dragon Boating Career started, she came to the attention of the Media and in the first Newspaper Article she featured in, she was even compared to Lance Armstrong:
Don Iverson, Director of the Health and Productivity Research Center at the University of Wollongong, said that Ms Petterson could be compared to Lance Armstrong, who won the Tour de France after fighting testicular cancer.
'It's almost superhuman,' he said.
Cancer wont slow rowing champion - Sydney Sun Herald - 2 May 2004
She was a little embarrassed by the comparison, but Jo and I were very proud of Jenny and her achievements in her treatment, her sport and her life as breast cancer survivor.
Geoff, Jenny, Grace, Lynn, Betty, Thomas, Grant, Joanne and David - Relay for Life 2007 - Jenny - Survivor Representative - Sylvania Waters - Sat 28 Apr 2007 (picasa)
After Jenny's passing, I had an encounter in the Intensive Care Unit where Jenny left us. Joanne and I had gone back to thank the staff at the St George Hospital and to pickup some scans that had been lost in Jenny's move from the Level 1 to ICU. We spoke to the head ICU nurses (they were between shifts) and we knew both of them from Jenny's time in ICU (and I was well known to them as I had fainted in ICU on Jenny's second day in ICU after the neurosurgery). We talked a little and I mentioned that Jenny did consider herself lucky to have had cancer - as she said herself - it had changed her life for the better. One the nurses questioned this statement and she made me feel a little uneasy for saying what I had said. She could not believe anyone with cancer could consider themselves lucky. Maybe, she had seen too much of the cold harsh reality of cancer in that ICU. Maybe she was right. It did not seem too lucky now that Jenny was gone?
This conversation stuck in my mind for a long time, and I started to question many things. It was not until I came across the following blog post by Doug Miller that I found some peace. Here was a man who had recently been diagnosed with Cancer. He was articulate and in many ways his post offers so much more than Lance's writings on Cancer and Luck. This is probably the most moving piece of writing I have read in my life. I don't have cancer, but I have lived a shared life with it and it's consequences. I can truly emphasise. Here it is. My heart is with you Doug ..
Doug Miller - Colorado Trail San Juan Mountains - 1994 - A Single Path - (blog)
The Lucky Ones by Doug Miller (Wed 23 Sep 2009)
[..] a friend [..] pointed me to Lance Armstrong's book entitled "Its not about the bike" I picked up a copy and quickly read through it. I liked it.
It had a bit much detail focusing on cycling, but that was an aspect of the man that could obviously not be separated from the larger reality of his battle with cancer.
There were portions though that left my mind spinning. Armstrong's description of his diagnosis and the roller coaster of emotions that ensued was painfully raw and hit the mark with a clarity and similarity I could not deny. I myself am walking those darkened and fearful paths as I write these very words.
Out of all the pages a couple simple statements that he made resonated with me in a powerful way.
Armstrong tells of a letter that he received. It was from a man he had never met before. He himself had battled cancer. He wrote Armstrong to acknowledge his support and positive thoughts. As he finished the letter he made a strange statement that confused Armstrong. He wrote, "you probably do not understand this right now, but we are the lucky ones".
What? How is anyone with cancer lucky? It is devastating. It not only has the potential to steal your life, but also has the destructive potential to steal your Hope. Those words are haunting. Lucky? We are the lucky ones. This brotherhood of suffering is somehow lucky..........blessed?
It is diametrically opposed to any sort of sane thinking that those outside of this brotherhood would agree with. It actually is an almost dangerous statement. As if you say it as you are waking off a cliff without a safety net. A statement such as that redefines everything. Life. Death. And even Hope.
But as I walk this path, and simultaneously encounter life in all its beauty and harshness, I find myself agreeing. "We are the lucky ones". I am lucky. I say those words with a part of me screaming, "how dare you, how can you say that". But it is true. The perspective that cancer gives to life is unbelievable. It has the power to refine you. Your thoughts. Your direction. Your focus.
It is as if you look at life for the first time. Everything is different. Nothing is the same. Everything is turned on edge, revealing a freshness and an urgency that is not seen outside of cancer. If this clarity does exist in our normal lives, it is missed. Overshadowed by the busyness of life. By worthless and empty pursuits.
Another quote from Armstrong's book was this: "Cancer is not about dying, it is about living" What a statement.
Most would argue against it. But those that walk this path find it to be true. Life after diagnosis becomes "alive". It becomes real. It is as if you can grasp it with your own hands, breath it in, consume it.
Oh if I could have had this view earlier in life. I knew that it existed. I sensed it. I chased it. Through the mountains. Through relationships. In the woods and fields of my youth. It was a whisper in the words of poets. And a reflection on the horizon as the sun slipped out of view. But i did not catch it until cancer became my reference. My reality.
We who are members of this brotherhood and sisterhood of suffering are the lucky ones, because now we can truly live. And Love. And Hope. And I dare to say Dream. They are painful dreams, haunted with the shadows of uncertainty, but they are vivid dreams. Passionate dreams. Dreams that leave your heart aching, your soul longing. We are released from the fear of death. Our finite lives are bared.
We come face to face with our mortality and realize that life is looking back at us. Raw and uncertain. But ALIVE none the less. There were days before cancer that I despaired. At times despising my life. But now I am hungry to live. I long to live. Whether that time be long or short, I hold tight to life and all of its glorious agony.
Posted by Doug Miller at 9:11 PM
A few months before Jenny died, I read Lance Armstrong's book entitled "Its not about the bike". Jenny had been given a copy by a long time friend, Mena, not long after the book was first published here in Australia (sometime around 2002/3 I am guessing). She read the book quickly and I know she got a lot from the pages. For some reason I did not read the book until early May 2009.
I bought my own copy so that I could read the book that meant so much to Jenny. I think I was motivated by the fact the Jenny was progressing to the final stages of her Cancer (at least that is reluctantly what I quietly started to think - she had just been diagnosed with multiple tumors in her liver on the 11 Mar 2009 - not a very promising situation). I thought I might find something in the pages to understand her and our situation.
I read the book, intermittently over a few weeks, at my local coffee shop before work and on the train to work. There was lots of the book that resonated with me, particularly his encounters with cancer. One part in particular struck a chord with me. It was about a half through, where he writes about what he felt during chemotherapy following neurosurgery to remove a beign brain tumor.
What is stronger, fear or hope? It's an interesting question, and perhaps even an important one. Initially, I was very fearful and without much hope, but as I sat there and absorbed the full extent of my illness, I refused to let the fear completely blot out my optimism. Something told me that fear should never fully rule the heart, and I decided not to be afraid.
I wanted to live, but whether I would or not was a mystery, and in the midst of confronting that fact, even at that moment, I was beginning to sense that to stare into the heart of such a fearful mystery wasn't a bad thing. To be afraid is a priceless education. Once you have been that scared, you know more about your frailty than most people, and I think that changes a man. I was brought low, and there was nothing to take refuge in but the philosophical: this disease would force me to ask more of myself as person than I ever had before, and to seek out a different ethic.
A couple of days earlier, I had received an e-mail from a military guy stationed in Asia. He was a fellow cancer patient, and he wanted to tell me something.
"You don't know it yet," he wrote, "but we're the lucky ones."
I'd said aloud, "This guy's a nut."
What on earth could he mean?
When I read this, I stored it away in my mind, eagerly awaiting Lance's own answer to this question - lucky .. What on earth could he mean?. It would come quietly on the last page of the book.
"You don't know it yet, but we're the lucky ones," my fellow cancer patient had written.
I will always carry the lesson of cancer with me, and feel that I'm a member of the cancer community. I believe I have an obligation to make something better out of my life than before, and to help my fellow human beings who are dealing with the disease. It's a community of shared experience. Anyone who has heard the words You have cancer and thought, "Oh, my God, I'm going to die," is a member of it. If you've ever belonged, you never leave.
Jenny had often indicated that she felt lucky (I think in both aspects - that of surviving an aggressive cancer and oddly enough, having had had cancer). She said this in the Australian Story Episode, "In the Pink":
'I don't understand how things work out, and why things work out the way they do. I feel like I've been lucky. I don't understand how cancer works, I don't know why I've been blessed the way I have been.'
and in her Talks:
'I feel I am so lucky and have a wonderful life. I have had some great opportunities through breast cancer to meet some very inspiring people. Geoff and Jo have been a constant source of support for me. Breast cancer has totally changed my life but for the best.'
As Jenny's International Dragon Boating Career started, she came to the attention of the Media and in the first Newspaper Article she featured in, she was even compared to Lance Armstrong:
Don Iverson, Director of the Health and Productivity Research Center at the University of Wollongong, said that Ms Petterson could be compared to Lance Armstrong, who won the Tour de France after fighting testicular cancer.
'It's almost superhuman,' he said.
She was a little embarrassed by the comparison, but Jo and I were very proud of Jenny and her achievements in her treatment, her sport and her life as breast cancer survivor.
After Jenny's passing, I had an encounter in the Intensive Care Unit where Jenny left us. Joanne and I had gone back to thank the staff at the St George Hospital and to pickup some scans that had been lost in Jenny's move from the Level 1 to ICU. We spoke to the head ICU nurses (they were between shifts) and we knew both of them from Jenny's time in ICU (and I was well known to them as I had fainted in ICU on Jenny's second day in ICU after the neurosurgery). We talked a little and I mentioned that Jenny did consider herself lucky to have had cancer - as she said herself - it had changed her life for the better. One the nurses questioned this statement and she made me feel a little uneasy for saying what I had said. She could not believe anyone with cancer could consider themselves lucky. Maybe, she had seen too much of the cold harsh reality of cancer in that ICU. Maybe she was right. It did not seem too lucky now that Jenny was gone?
This conversation stuck in my mind for a long time, and I started to question many things. It was not until I came across the following blog post by Doug Miller that I found some peace. Here was a man who had recently been diagnosed with Cancer. He was articulate and in many ways his post offers so much more than Lance's writings on Cancer and Luck. This is probably the most moving piece of writing I have read in my life. I don't have cancer, but I have lived a shared life with it and it's consequences. I can truly emphasise. Here it is. My heart is with you Doug ..
The Lucky Ones by Doug Miller (Wed 23 Sep 2009)
[..] a friend [..] pointed me to Lance Armstrong's book entitled "Its not about the bike" I picked up a copy and quickly read through it. I liked it.
It had a bit much detail focusing on cycling, but that was an aspect of the man that could obviously not be separated from the larger reality of his battle with cancer.
There were portions though that left my mind spinning. Armstrong's description of his diagnosis and the roller coaster of emotions that ensued was painfully raw and hit the mark with a clarity and similarity I could not deny. I myself am walking those darkened and fearful paths as I write these very words.
Out of all the pages a couple simple statements that he made resonated with me in a powerful way.
Armstrong tells of a letter that he received. It was from a man he had never met before. He himself had battled cancer. He wrote Armstrong to acknowledge his support and positive thoughts. As he finished the letter he made a strange statement that confused Armstrong. He wrote, "you probably do not understand this right now, but we are the lucky ones".
What? How is anyone with cancer lucky? It is devastating. It not only has the potential to steal your life, but also has the destructive potential to steal your Hope. Those words are haunting. Lucky? We are the lucky ones. This brotherhood of suffering is somehow lucky..........blessed?
It is diametrically opposed to any sort of sane thinking that those outside of this brotherhood would agree with. It actually is an almost dangerous statement. As if you say it as you are waking off a cliff without a safety net. A statement such as that redefines everything. Life. Death. And even Hope.
But as I walk this path, and simultaneously encounter life in all its beauty and harshness, I find myself agreeing. "We are the lucky ones". I am lucky. I say those words with a part of me screaming, "how dare you, how can you say that". But it is true. The perspective that cancer gives to life is unbelievable. It has the power to refine you. Your thoughts. Your direction. Your focus.
It is as if you look at life for the first time. Everything is different. Nothing is the same. Everything is turned on edge, revealing a freshness and an urgency that is not seen outside of cancer. If this clarity does exist in our normal lives, it is missed. Overshadowed by the busyness of life. By worthless and empty pursuits.
Another quote from Armstrong's book was this: "Cancer is not about dying, it is about living" What a statement.
Most would argue against it. But those that walk this path find it to be true. Life after diagnosis becomes "alive". It becomes real. It is as if you can grasp it with your own hands, breath it in, consume it.
Oh if I could have had this view earlier in life. I knew that it existed. I sensed it. I chased it. Through the mountains. Through relationships. In the woods and fields of my youth. It was a whisper in the words of poets. And a reflection on the horizon as the sun slipped out of view. But i did not catch it until cancer became my reference. My reality.
We who are members of this brotherhood and sisterhood of suffering are the lucky ones, because now we can truly live. And Love. And Hope. And I dare to say Dream. They are painful dreams, haunted with the shadows of uncertainty, but they are vivid dreams. Passionate dreams. Dreams that leave your heart aching, your soul longing. We are released from the fear of death. Our finite lives are bared.
We come face to face with our mortality and realize that life is looking back at us. Raw and uncertain. But ALIVE none the less. There were days before cancer that I despaired. At times despising my life. But now I am hungry to live. I long to live. Whether that time be long or short, I hold tight to life and all of its glorious agony.
Posted by Doug Miller at 9:11 PM
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Thank You ..
As we struggle with the loss of Jenny and we try to find our place in this new world, we have much to be grateful for.
Joanne, Jenny and Geoff - Paddling on Fitzroy Island Far Nth Qld - 26 March 2009
Jenny "in her element" - PD's Women's - CNY/Heat 1 - Sat 08 Feb 2009
We are grateful for the time we had with Jenny. We did some amazing things together and we feel honoured that we were a part of her journey through this life and that we were there to support her in all her endeavours (and for her support in ours) and in particular the final steps she made as she broke free from this world. She "touched" many people, more than we will ever know. She has given us strength, motivation and inspiration to go forward. She lives on through us and she helps to inspire and guide us as we continue to live fullfilling lives - something she showed us and wanted for us all. In particular, we are very grateful to our Family and Friends who have shared our Grief, shown us their Empathy, given us their Support and quietly look out for us.
PD's and the "Orange Twist" - FOW - Sun 07 Dec 2009
Family and Friends - FOW - Sun 07 Dec 2009
We continue to lead the lives that Jenny would want for us, and the day following Jenny's Funeral, Joanne and I returned to our training with the Australian Dragon Boat Team. We went to Prague to represent Australia at the World Dragon Boat Championships barely 8 weeks after Jenny's passing.
Jenny - St George Private Hospital - Tue 23 Jun 2009
We went with open hearts and minds, and had "the time of our lives".
Geoff, Mike and Joanne with Jenny's Paddle and Gold Medal - Prague/Racice - Day 5 - Sun 30 Aug 2009
Australian Senior Mixed 500m Team – Prague/Racice - Day 4 - 29 Aug 2009
Joanne and I have so many people to thank. I cannot even attempt to start this process, but I hope everyone will know the part they played in supporting and guiding us through this period of our lives.
After all this time, all I can say is "THANK YOU" from the bottom of our hearts.
We are grateful for the time we had with Jenny. We did some amazing things together and we feel honoured that we were a part of her journey through this life and that we were there to support her in all her endeavours (and for her support in ours) and in particular the final steps she made as she broke free from this world. She "touched" many people, more than we will ever know. She has given us strength, motivation and inspiration to go forward. She lives on through us and she helps to inspire and guide us as we continue to live fullfilling lives - something she showed us and wanted for us all. In particular, we are very grateful to our Family and Friends who have shared our Grief, shown us their Empathy, given us their Support and quietly look out for us.
We continue to lead the lives that Jenny would want for us, and the day following Jenny's Funeral, Joanne and I returned to our training with the Australian Dragon Boat Team. We went to Prague to represent Australia at the World Dragon Boat Championships barely 8 weeks after Jenny's passing.
We went with open hearts and minds, and had "the time of our lives".
Joanne and I have so many people to thank. I cannot even attempt to start this process, but I hope everyone will know the part they played in supporting and guiding us through this period of our lives.
After all this time, all I can say is "THANK YOU" from the bottom of our hearts.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Jenny’s Gold Medal
Prague was an amazing experience. Winning a Gold Medal and singing our National Anthem is something I don't think Joanne (Jenny's younger identical twin sister) or I (Jenny's Husband) will ever be able to explain or describe.
Anyway, I should try to find some words about our Prague experience .. The thing I will remember most about Prague is ..
.. We met Mike Haslam (IDBF Executive President) a couple of times and we spoke initially for quite a while at the end of the third day. We thanked him for his ”Tribute to Jenny” and the wonderful article for Jenny in the July 2009 DBI Newsletter. It became apparent in talking to him that he was truly “touched” by Jenny and he spoke quite openly about the positive impact she had had on his own life over the years and in particular since her passing on the 30 June 2009.
Just before we parted, I asked him whether we could have a photo together, as this had become a bit of tradition with Jenny, Joanne and Mike over the years. This time instead of capturing the moment, I would be in the photo, taking the place of Jenny. After the photo was taken, we all became quite emotional and I asked Joanne to give Mike a comforting hug. As we parted, I was happy, we had said “ thank you” and I had the photo of Mike and Joanne, and thought that would be it for the Regatta. Well, maybe not ..
The following day, the Australian Senior Mixed Crew, which Joanne and I were team members, won a Gold Medal in the Mixed 500m Event. For all of us, particularly Joanne and I, this was an amazing experience and a “Dream come True”. We all gave it everything we had and we got off the Dragon Boat onto the Lane 1 Pontoon, not “Wondering, ‘What If’?”. Jenny was our “our Guiding Light and Inspiration” and this was just one example of how Joanne and I are trying to live our lives in Jenny’s “Afterglow”.
On the last day of the Regatta during the lunch break, Mike came over to the Australian tent to handout copies of the latest DBI Newsletter (the one with Jenny's story) and he again spoke to Joanne and I at length.
We talked to him about winning Gold and how everyone in the Mixed Crew and Squad felt that we had a 21st paddler in the boat when we raced the final. I told him about the wristbands we were wearing with Jenny's "Don't wonder ‘What If?’" quote inscribed on the inside (we all raced with the wristbands inside out).
Finally, I told him how we all went into Prague the evening of the day we won” Gold”, to quietly celebrate a truly amazing experience in our lives - as the German Team told us after the Final - "we made the impossible, possible". Everyone, except Joanne and I, wore their medals out that night (indeed, some are still wearing them :-). When asked on numerous occasions where were our medals? - We said “back at the hotel room with Jenny's photo”. I think everyone understood.
Just before Mike left the tent, he said to us he felt that we should have a "Special" Gold medal presented to us for Jenny, in her honour, memory and contribution to Dragon Boating. Obviously, we were quite touched by his thoughts and this gesture. As he left he said he would arrange it all, though we were not quite sure how.
During the afternoon Mike came over twice to the Australian Team Tent, from the Official's Tower (a good 10 min return trip). Joanne and I were not around both times - either racing or watching races (my only chance the whole Regatta). When I got back to the tent I had numerous people tell me an IDBF official was looking for Joanne and I - little did they know it was the President of the IDBF.
Since the Senior Women’s Team were racing the 500m Final, I decided not to find Mike until I could "round up" Joanne. Our Women's Team placed a close 4th in the Final and just as they started coming off the water, Mike appeared from behind me (yet another 10 min return trip for him) and said he would wait until Joanne came through. Being a Final, it took some time to get all the Crews off the water and through all the celebrations, back slapping and hand shaking that goes on, particularly for the final race of the Regatta for all the Senior Women’s Teams.
When Joanne was finally free, I grabbed her and then Mike presented us a “Special” Gold Medal in Jenny's Memory and Honour. As you can see from the photo below, Joanne has used Jenny's paddle since she passed away on the 30 June 2009. We all had a few tears in our eyes, including Mike. An amazing gesture and a memory I will never forget.
Later that evening, as the sun was setting at the Regatta’s “After Party”, which was being held at the Regatta site, Joanne and I scattered some of Jenny's Ashes on the water from the Lane One Pontoon, where we had raced the Final from and celebrated the Victory. Below, you will see some photos of the serene and peaceful sunset as we reflected back on Jenny's life and the whole Prague experience.
Death may have ended Jenny’s Life, but our Relationship lives on. Prague has shown us all that.
Thank you Jenny, you would often say that you felt Lucky (more here) to have experienced life with Cancer. However, I consider it us to be the “Lucky Ones”. You have given us the knowledge, strength, hope, guidance and inspiration to continue to live our lives to the full. We live on in your “Afterglow”.
You will be with us, Always ..
.. just one story from Prague.
Geoff Eldridge - Jenny’s Loving Husband - 30 October 2009
Postscript: The essence of the above comes from an email I wrote (high in the French Pyrenees just 10km from the famous Col du Tourmalet of Tour De France fame) to Julia Ryall, my Club Dragon Boat Coach at Pacific Dragon’s and a truly Great Friend. I wanted to thank her for all of the effort she has put into me as paddler (four years of hard work actually and still a "work in progress") and as a friend. As I said to her before we left for Prague, she has made me the paddler I am, and indeed has helped make me the person I am. It’s not just about the paddle. Since Jenny’s passing, she has shouldered much of the responsibility for keeping the Dragon Boat community informed and coordinated (as well as her beautiful tribute). Indeed, it was Julia I asked to inform Mike Haslam about Jenny’s passing. She has also provided a “shoulder to cry on” and has helped to keep me “pointing in the right direction”, when it all seems like it has become too much. I am not sure how to really thank her, but maybe her contribution to us as paddlers and people (there were seven PD’s on the boat that day), and as a result this Prague story, will go some way to do just that ..
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