Learning to be a little more Certain of the Uncertain - Well Maybe?

Detail - Loch Ness Locks / Fort Augustus / Scotland (Sat 04 Sep 2005)
I did not find the Loch Ness Monster,
but I did find this amazing piece of rusted iron.
I have a been a little stuck on this post. Whenever this happens I look to the Manual of the Warrior of Light (*) by Paulo Coelho (*) and found this ..

A warrior knows that the ends do not justify the means.

Because there are no ends, there are only means. Life carries him from unknown to unknown. Each moment is filled with this thrilling mystery: the warrior does not know where he came from or where is going.

But he is not here by chance. And he is overjoyed by surprises and excited by landscapes that he has never seen before. He often feels afraid, but that is normal in a warrior.

If he thinks only of the goal, he will not be able to pay attention to the signs along the way. If he concentrates only on one question, he will miss various answers that are there beside him. That is why the warrior submits.

This is my 1000th post. A milestone of sorts and something I would not have thought possible when I made my first post (*) here on Thu 26 Feb 2009.

I think the above passage from the Manual of the Warrior of Light (*) provides a useful metaphor for this blog and the 1000 posts that it now comprises.

It is a reflection of my life and who I am. I am never quite sure where it is going - I just try to make connections between what I read, what I see, what I photograph and what I feel.

A lot has happened and changed in the last three and half years since that first post. I have learnt a lot about myself and others. I have made plenty of mistakes, yet I think I have done a few things right. I have been defeated, yet I have have had a few wins, for which I am grateful. I have been sad and I have been happy. I have felt lost and without purpose yet in some ways I have found myself. I have looked to the past, present and future. I have had regrets [and learnt how to let them go]. I have given up and I have battled on. I have lost belief in myself, yet I have found ways to restore that belief. I have been hurt, upset and I have forgiven. I have cried and I have laughed. I have been directionless and without purpose, yet I have had goals. I have been inspired. I have tried hard, too hard sometimes. I tried to be something I am not, and I have learnt my limits and what I can be. I have watched and followed, and at times I have lead, mostly unknowingly I should think.

Somehow I am happy when some say I should be angry. I have suffered and have empathised with the suffering of others. I have been drawn into other people's battles and have known how to respond. I believe in luck (and fate) and know that it comes from being prepared and the willingness to take a risk.

I have changed but remained the same. I am older though I feel younger. I am experienced but still feel like a beginner. I am wiser but more naive. I found a voice (an awkward one at that) I did not know I had. You don't know how far you have been until you get back. I've been all over and it's been all over me . Therefore I am thankful for this blog and what I have learnt about myself and others.

Many times I have asked myself why? post what I have posted here and other times I have said to myself, well why not? (this post being an example). I am starting to forget things, so it is nice to make the effort to write what is important, so it can be recalled. I have memories and I am making memories.

Most importantly, I have Remembered Jenny (*) - how she lived and how she died. Jo and I are the bearers of her memory and she lives on in our hearts and in our minds until we lay to rest beside her.

I could go on, but I won't ().

It's all here in these 1000 posts which are just like snapshots of my life.

Like Paulo Coelho's good warrior, I am not really sure where I am going and what might be ahead. I have come to learn that this is what life is all about. Ultimately I think I have learnt to become a bit more certain of the uncertain. I have accepted this - well at least I think I have.

Hopefully, i will have the opportunity to post another 1000 posts. Let's see what happens.

[the warrior] is overjoyed by surprises and excited by landscapes that he has never seen before - Loch Ness / Scotland (Sat 03 Sep 2005)

What I think about when I think by the side of the River Charles - Boston (Mon 22 Aug 2011)

Jogging Path (1 of 5) - Charles River / Boston (Mon 22 Aug 2011)
Jogging Path (2 of 5) - Charles River / Boston (Mon 22 Aug 2011)

Jogging Path (3 of 5) - Charles River / Boston (Mon 22 Aug 2011)
Jogging Path (4 of 5) - Charles River / Boston (Mon 22 Aug 2011)
On a whim, I recently bought myself a copy of Haruki Murakami's (*) book, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running (*). As I read it, I was quite taken by the following passage ..

It's been 10 years since I lived in Cambridge [Boston]. When I saw the Charles River again, a desire to run swept over me. Generally, unless some change takes place, rivers always look the same, and the Charles River in particular looked totally unchanged. Time had passed, students had come and gone, I'd aged ten years, and there'd literally been a lot of water under the bridge. But the river has remained unaltered. The water still flows swiftly, and silently, toward Boston Harbour. The water soaks the shoreline, making the grasses grow thick [..]

Maybe because it's the home of the Boston Marathon, Cambridge is full of runners. The jogging path along the Charles goes on forever, and if you wanted to you could run for hours. The problem is, it's used by cyclists, so you have to watch out for speeding bikes whizzing past from behind. At various places, too, there are cracks in the pavement you have to make sure you don't trip over, and a couple of long traffic signals you can get stuck at, which can put a kink in your run. Otherwise, it's a wonderful jogging run.

I sat beside the River Charles. It was late afternoon on the last day of our 4 days in Boston. We had arrived on the Friday from a week in New York. Here are a few photos from my time sitting by the River Charles.

We had already been away for a day short of 4 weeks and it would be another 3 weeks before arriving back home. I was enjoying the trip but was thinking a lot about all the changes that had been occurring in my life - I was without a car and I had moved back to Kirrawee while I waited for my house, I had never really planned or contemplated to live in, to become available while I was away. Tried not to think about these things too much from a far, as I had no control over them. Instead, I just sat myself down on a seat bench by the River Charles and tried to think of other things.

I sat there in the beautiful afternoon sun, I thought of many things. I thought of all the other times I had been to Boston, what took me there and what I did while I was there. I also tried to remember who I was and what I was doing in my life around the time of each trip.

September and October 1988 was the first trip, and it would be just under a year before I would meet Jenny for the first time.

I reflected on the two years since Jenny had left us and all the things that happened since that time. In some ways, it was just sitting there by the River Charles, that I finally stopped and had a chance to clear my thoughts and to really think about things.

I had really kept myself busy and distracted since Jenny's passing (*) - it was one way of coping with the enormity of Jenny's loss. In some ways, I was starting to forget things - who I was, the things that we had done and what I thought I was going to do with my life.

As I sat there by the River Charles, I watched the walkers, runners and bicycle riders go past. Their long shadows, created by the late afternoon sun, are what struck me and this is what kept me interested as I captured these photos. I wondered who these people were, what had brought them to Boston and whether one of them was the future creator of the next social media craze.

A couple of rowers set off from near where I sat and I wondered if they were the Winklevii (*) of Facebook fame (*).

MIT / TIM - Charles River / Back Bay / Boston (Mon 22 Aug 2011)

As I sat there I could see tiny sail boats, standup paddle boards and wind surfers. One wind surfer was fairly inexperienced and a more experienced wind surfer went to his aid, if only to provide advice and moral support, in the knowledge of just being there.

The small sailing boats were from MIT, which is just across the River, and it was only when I saw through the transparent sails, that I realised that in reverse, MIT, spells TIM, my late Brother's name - so I thought about him for a little while. He had been to Boston a few times also, so I thought about all the same things for Tim. Maybe he had sat here and pondered some of the same things, 25 years earlier? I also wondered why I had never made the MIT to TIM connection. Or thinking about it now, I think I may have thought about it a long time ago, but maybe I had forgotten remembering the connection.

Have been to Boston four times prior to this trip and I have visited it on each of my trips to the USA. The last time was just over 17 years earlier in April 1994, where I had hoped I might be able to run the Boston Marathon (*).

Now as I sit here and think about the things I thought about by the River Charles in Boston that late afternoon on Mon 22 Aug 2011, I can now see where Haruki Murakami's (*) ran along the side of the same river on the very path he captured in words above and I have captured in the photos on this page. I also now have an appreciation and can imagine where he found part of the inspiration to write What I Talk About When I Talk About Running (*), which I am now reading and enjoying.

That will do for now. Just leave it here.

Jogging Path (5 of 5) - Charles River / Boston (Mon 22 Aug 2011)
A bit of ramble to mark my 700th Post here.

It's not about the Paddle

IT’S NOT ABOUT THE BIKE – LANCE ARMSTRONG

I read the following extract to Jenny twice while she was in Hospital in June 2009. The first time was two days after the surgery to remove a 4cm brain tumor. She listened intently - like a small child being read a fairy tale - while I struggled to remain composed, as I read it to her.

Jenny - St George Private Hospital - Sun 22 Jun 2009 (picasa)
The second time was in the Intensive Care Unit at St George following her "heart failure" episode 6 days earlier (Tue 23 Jun 2009) – a day before she left us on the 30 Jun 2009 at 9:16am. I think and hope she heard me. This little story for me is the essence of the Book, a book she treasured, and ultimately it reads as a "prophecy" for what would unfold in Prague in late August 2009 for Joanne and myself - hope this makes sense .. Geoff

Jenny, Joanne and Geoff - St George ICU - Sun 28 Jun 2009 (picasa)

IT’S NOT ABOUT THE BIKE – LANCE ARMSTRONG

If there is a defining characteristic of a man as opposed to a boy, maybe it's patience. In 1995, I finally gained an understanding of the demanding nature of the Tour [de France] and all of its extraordinary tests and dangers. I finished it, and I finished strong, winning a stage in the closing days. But the knowledge came at too high a price, and I would just as soon not have learned it the way I did.

Late in the race, our Motorola teammate, Fabio Casartelli, the 1992 Olympic champion, was killed on a high-speed descent. On a descent, you ride single file, and if one rider goes down, it can cause a terrible chain reaction. Fabio didn't crash alone; 20 riders went down with him. But he hit a curb with the back of his head and fractured his neck and skull.

I went by too fast to see much. A lot of riders were down, and everybody was crouched around someone lying on the ground, but you see that sort of thing a lot in the Tour. It was only a while later that I learned via the team radio what had happened: Fabio was dead. When they tell you something like that, you almost don't believe it.

It was one of the longest days of my life. Fabio was not only the young hope of Italian cycling, he was a new husband and a new father. His baby was just a month old.

Jenny and Geoff - Cape Leveque - 9 May 2001 (picasa)
We had to keep riding, to finish the stage even though we were distraught and sick with shock. I had known Fabio since I first started racing internationally in '91. He lived right outside of Como where I kept my apartment, and we had competed against each other at the Barcelona Olympics in '92, when he won the gold medal. He was a very relaxed, fun-loving man, a little goofy, a joker. Some of the top Italians were more serious, or macho, but Fabio wasn't like that. He was all sweetness.

That night we had a Motorola team meeting to discuss whether we should keep riding or not. We were split. Half of us wanted to quit and go home and cry with our families and friends, and half of us wanted to keep riding in honor of Fabio. Personally, I wanted to stop; I simply didn't think I had the heart to ride a bike. It was the first time I had encountered death, and genuine grief, and I didn't know how to handle it. But then Fabio's wife came to see us, and she said she wanted us to keep riding, because she felt that was what Fabio would have wanted. So we sat in the grass behind the hotel, said a few prayers, and decided to stay in.

Me and my Shadow - "an early start for the first day of the rest of my life" - 7am Wed 01 Jul 2009 (picasa)
The next day the peloton rode in honor of Fabio, and gave our team a ceremonial stage victory. It was another long, terrible day— eight hours on the bike, with everybody grieving. The peloton did not race. Instead we rode in quiet formation. It was virtually a funeral procession, and at last our team rode across the finish line, while, behind us, Fabio's bike was mounted atop the support car with a black ribbon.

The following morning we began the race again in earnest, and rode into Bordeaux. Next was a stage into Limoges, and that night, Och came around to our rooms and told the team that Fabio had had two goals in the Tour: he wanted to finish the race, and he especially wanted to try to win the stage into Limoges. As soon as Och stopped speaking I knew that if Limoges was the stage Fabio had wanted to win for himself, now I wanted to win it for him, and that I was going to finish the race.

About halfway through the next day's stage, I found myself grouped with 25 guys at the front - Indurain was in the yellow leader's jersey, riding at the back. I did what came most naturally to me: I attacked.

The problem was, I attacked too early, as usual. I went with 25 miles still to go, and on a downhill portion. Two things you never do: attack early, and on a downhill. But I went so fast on that downhill that I had a 30-second lead in a finger-snap. The other riders were completely taken aback. I could feel them wondering, What's he thinking?

What was I thinking? I had looked back, and saw guys were riding along, with no particular ambition. It was a hot day, and there was no incentive to pull hard, everyone was just trying to get closer to the finish line where the tactics would play out. I glanced back, and one guy was taking a sip of water. I glanced back again. Another guy was fixing his hat. So I took off. Peoooo. I was gone.

When you have 15 other guys back there from 15 different teams, they'll never get organized. They'll look at each other and say: You pull. No, you pull! So I went, and I went faster than I'd ever ridden. It was a tactical punch in the face, and it had nothing to do with strength or ability; everything depended on the initial shock and separation. It was insane, but it worked.

IDBF Senior Mixed 500m Final - 200m to go - "The Break" - "It was insane, but it worked" – Prague/Racice - Day 4 - 29 Aug 2009
Nobody got within 55 seconds of me again. The team support car kept coming up and giving me reports. Henny Kuiper, our team director, would say, "You're thirty seconds up." Then a few minutes later he'd come alongside again and say, "You're forty-five seconds up."

When he came up the third or fourth time, I said, "Henny, don't come up here anymore. I'm not getting caught."

"Okay, okay, okay," he said, and faded behind my wheel.

I didn't get caught.

I won by a minute, and I didn't feel a moment's pain. Instead I felt something spiritual; I know that I rode with a higher purpose that day. Even though I had charged too early, I never suffered after I broke away. I would like to think that was Fabio's experience too; he simply broke away and separated from the world. There is no doubt in my mind that there were two riders on that bike. Fabio was with me.

Senior Mixed 500m Final - "Instead I felt something spiritual; I know that I rode with a higher purpose that day." Lance A - "Don't Wonder 'What If?'" Jenny P – Prague/Racice - Day 4 - 29 Aug 2009
I felt an emotion at the finish line that I've never experienced again. I felt I was winning for Fabio and his family and his baby, and for the mourning country of Italy. As I came across the line I glanced upward and I pointed to the heavens, to Fabio.

World Champs - Australian Senior Mixed 500m Team - "As I came across the line I glanced upward and I pointed to the heavens" Lance A – Prague/Racice - Day 4 - 29 Aug 2009

After the Tour, Och had a memorial built for Fabio. He commissioned a sculptor from Como to execute a work in white Carrara marble. The team flew in from all over the world, and we gathered at the top of the mountain for the placement of the memorial and the dedication ceremony. The memorial had a sundial on it that shone on three dates and times: his birthday, the day he won the Olympic Games, and the day he died.

Geoff and Joanne at Fabio’s Memorial - we stumbled upon it by complete accident – Col de Portet d'Aspet - Thu 24 Sep 2009 [1] (picasa)
I had learned what it means to ride the Tour de France. It's not about the bike. It's a metaphor for life, not only the longest race in the world but also the most exalting and heartbreaking and potentially tragic. It poses every conceivable element to the rider, and more: cold, heat, mountains, plains, ruts, flat tires, high winds, unspeakably bad luck, unthinkable beauty, yawning senselessness, and above all a great, deep self-questioning. During our lives we're faced with so many different elements as well, we experience so many setbacks, and fight such a hand-to-hand battle with failure, head down in the rain, just trying to stay upright and to have a little hope. The Tour is not just a bike race, not at all. It is a test. It tests you physically, it tests you mentally, and it even tests you morally.

I understood that now. There were no shortcuts, I realized. It took years of racing to build up the mind and body and character, until a rider had logged hundreds of races and thousands of miles of road. I wouldn't be able to win a Tour de France until I had enough iron in my legs, and lungs, and brain, and heart. Until I was a man. Fabio had been a man. I was still trying to get there.

[1] I would like to think the two shadows on the “Wings” of the Memorial represent the spirit of Jenny and her life as a twin with Joanne.. There we are, Joanne and I, counterpoised by the twin shadows of the Joanne and Jenny. Jenny overlooks us and is there with us, Always.

Jenny - "looking out over us - she inspires and guides us from above" - Geoff E - Wolfe Creek Crater, WA - 22 May 2001"

Jenny, Geoff, Joanne - St George - 22 Aug 2006

Doing It - Writing a Novel - Marija Pericic / Linda Morris (Thu 27 Apr 2017)

Mirrors - Prague (Mon 31 Aug 2009)

Marija Pericic on Doing It:

I always wanted to write a novel, and then I just did and I didn't tell anyone I was doing it.

I did it alongside my work as an English language teacher. It took me about five years. I found it hard to talk about it, but I also didn't want to talk about it in case I never did it or I never completed it. I had a daily quota of 1000 words and I just did that and, after a while, I couldn't have stopped even if I wanted to.

via Marija Pericic wins 2017 Vogel Literary Award in a prize worthy of Kafka by Linda Morris.

Be Audacious - Ravenna 2014

Home (*) - Blackwattle Bay / Sydney (Sun 24 Aug 2014)
Creature of habit, but I like this routine. Always go to Blackwattle Bay on the last Sunday before we leave to compete. I walk, take a few photos (*), read, think and reflect. And this time I wrote something, so here it is ..

I’ve been thinking lately about how every year seems to be different. It's natural. With time, things do change and I thought that this was the only reason things appeared to change. But you know what, even if everything did stay the same, it is still different, because you are different. You see things differently because you are a year older and all that goes with that, if you are doing something with your life.

With that rather random introduction (but I think there might be something in it), I thank everyone at Pacific Dragons for making Ravenna 2014 (*) happen.

How does such a small club get itself half way across the world to compete against the best clubs in the world?

It takes a thought, a dream, a goal, some intention, commitment and dedication. That's part of what it takes and the Club has lots of this and all the other things needed to be competing at our 4th consecutive World Club Crew Championships. I thank you all.

So with another candle on the cake, and with two sessions to go, I've come to love and appreciate this part of the campaign. I’ve been thinking lately:

• You know you are being coached by the best in the world - I told the boys this at the AB when we met in Feb this year, that alone is a good enough reason to buy in on the campaign.


• You feel fit and you know the effort is paying off – a conversion and gelling process is happening. After 70 or so water sessions, we are doing some really intense sets now. Things you just could not do, even a few months ago – and you thought were pretty good back then


• It’s scary but you love it.


• More so now, it’s not just what you are doing, it’s what you are thinking, what you believe.


• It’s not just to do your best, but to go beyond that and to give it everything.


• It’s not just for you, but for everyone who has loved, supported and helped you to get to this point.

Finally, going back to where it all began for most of us this campaign, I was asked in front of the Group, at the AB, that night back in Feb:

What is it like to be a World Champion?

I did not know what to say (and it was the reason I sent out that Five One Hundreths of Second (*) Post on FB after the meeting). And, I'm not sure that it is even the right question, but I did say something like this:

It's one step at a time. It is great to feel like you are in the game. You can’t expect to win, it’s not your fate or destiny to win and you definitely can’t just hope to win. You have to try. And you have to have confidence and belief in yourself, your support network and your team. [1]

and with that I concluded:

Be Audacious!!! [1]

And, so I am and so I think we all should be ..

Regards .. Geoff

[1] the essence of these thoughts came from a great blog post (*) I had just read at that time by a Canadian Olympic Kayaker, Adam Van Koeverden (*). For me, he is Canada’s Drew Ginn (*), both who are inspirations to me.

On A Moment - Tony Martin / Cycling News / Cycling Central (Tue 07 Jul2015)

Untitled - Ultimo (Wed 08 Jul 2015)

Tony Martin on a Moment:

It was just the right moment for me to try my chance.

Adding:

I don’t know what happened in the back but I was so nervous, I was just pulling. I don’t know how many watts I pulled but it was more than I ever did. Now I am so happy, and a thousand thanks to my team for supporting me the whole week.

via GC stalemate on the cobbles as Martin strikes it fourth time lucky by Cycling Central and Tour de France quotes: Martin digs deep for yellow jersey by Cycling News.

Watched this live – it was 1:15am this morning on the coldest night we have had this winter. Warmed my heart to see him make that break with 3.2km to go and just take it home like he did. You just knew he was going to do “it” and it was not even his own bike, at 20km to go he punctured and swapped bikes with his team mate (as my 3 year old nephew told me 15 years ago - a team is a powerful thing). As Tony Martin said - I actually was [on my limit] when I launched in that moment .. It was just the right moment for me to try my chance. And he found something in himself that he did not know he had - I was so nervous, I was just pulling. I don’t know how many watts I pulled but it was more than I ever did. Often your best is not good enough and the first 3 days of the Tour showed this to Tony Martin and those watching. You have to go Beyond Yourself to find the Happiness he displayed on a life-time Dream come true last night. Just brilliant to watch his performance and his post-race interview. Congrats to Tony Martin.

[Fond memories of Sandy Casar doing the same kind of break in Stage 18 of the 2007 TdF, after crashing with a dog at 27km.]

In the Beginning - Remembering Jenny (Nov 1989)

[l-r] (front) Jo, Janet, Jenny, Don [back] Tony, Richard, Gerard, Geoff - Our Company's 1989 Inaugural Corporate Games Team (one sunny Sun day in Nov 1989)

I've written about the End, so here is the Beginning ..

The inaugural 1989 Fairfax Corporate Games was how I met Jenny. We both worked at the same company and responded to a call in the company's newsletter, to help organise a team.

I'm not sure I had seen Jenny prior to that, even though we had worked in the same building on and off over a number of years. I was just back from three years working out of Tamworth, my main childhood home town. It was a big company in those days and the Head Office filled a 40 storey building on the corner of Park and Elizabeth Streets.

I remember the first meeting to help organise the team on Level 23. We both got out of separate lifts at the same time and walked in opposite directions to find the meeting room. We couldn't find the meeting room during our opposite navigations of the inner core of the building. When we bumped into each other, I asked her if she was looking for the meeting room for the Corporate Games. She said yes. And, in those first moments I noticed her beautiful blue eyes and friendly manner.

I did not know she had a sister, Joanne, who also worked at the same company, and it was only on the day of the event, that I realised Jenny was an identical twin. We all had a great time and at the end of the day I had to rush off quickly to attend a 5 day residential work course at Dover Heights.

I thought of her often and did not see her again until a few months later, when Jenny rang me out of the blue to meet so she could give me the photo above. We met at my desk on Level 26 and at same time she gave me this photo, she had the courage to ask me to partner her to a friend's Wedding. I was in shock and did not know what to say. What was a beautiful women like Jenny asking someone like me to partner her to a Wedding. How brave was she, and how shy and uncertain was I.

So, I made her endure a night of uncertainty, telling her I had to check that the Wedding did not clash with a hockey game I was scheduled to play on the same day. What was I thinking? I was always going and said yes the next day. At the same time I asked her out to dinner and to see a movie on Fri 30 Mar 1990, so we could get to know each other a little better before the Wedding.

The Wedding was duly attended and I even managed to play my game of hockey before the wedding, scoring a rare winning goal. It was my day!!

A month later we were out in the city with a group of Jenny and Joanne's work friends (I was hanging out with them by then - they were all accountants and I was the engineer), and as we passed a rowdy group of men, I instinctively held Jenny's hand. Whoops - but she held my hand back and did not let go.

That was our beginning, our destiny for a life together, until the day she transformed herself into our memories.

And, it is through our memories of Jenny that she lives on, this photo and post being just one.

Favourite Photos - Newtown 2007 - King Street - 'Communication'

Communication - King Street, Newtown, Sydney - Wed 14 Mar 2007 (picasa)
Second photo from a collection of favourite photos.

I had been to the Dendy Cinema to see a movie a few days earlier and was struck by the light and this scene when I left around 6pm. The late afternoon light in Sydney is beautiful this time of the year - interestingly enough it is almost 3 years ago to the day this photo was taken. Unfortunately I did not have my camera with me at this time, so I made a mental note to come back at some stage in the near future - which would turn out to be just a few days later.

On the day this photo was captured, I had taken a half day off work, in the afternoon, so that I could attend one of Jenny's medical appointments at St George Hospital. I was in my car on the way to meet Jenny and Joanne for the appointment when Jenny called to say that the appointment had been cancelled due to unforseen circumstances and that we should meet at Dragon Boat training that night back in the City.

I had a few hours to spare, so I thought I would go back to Newtown and have a coffee at Urban Bites (a favourite haunt for me, but the opposite end of King Street to the Dendy) for a coffee. When I was there I remembered the photo I wanted to take and I realised I had my camera. Decided to take the 10 min walk back to the Dendy to take this photo which had similar lighting to what I had seen a few days earlier.

I guess what I like about this particular photo is the composition. I only took a couple of photos and really did not look at it closely until I downloaded it to my computer. There I could see all the detail - things I really had not noticed when I took it.

I saw all the signs - things telling us what to do (the "No Stopping" and "No Entry" signs [1], "One Way" and parking signs), and the signs that identify things. For instance the Map of Africa and all the countries identified, the graffiti tag and the nice frame around the Map, the number plates that identify the motor bikes and scooters, etc.

A couple of other things I liked were the:

1. Pole Poster where you see the word "Pixels" - the smallest element of each digital photo - you can see it between the "No Entry" Sign and the white pillar (might have to look at the large version to notice).
   
   
2. Person in the centre of the photo - particularly his position and the shadow area of the background he fills as well his position between the foreground shadows. I also love the tattoos on his arms and legs, and the fact that he is communicating with someone using his Mobile Phone. His T-Shirt and bag have some text and logos on them. Also like how the shadow of the Bike Rack just catches his foot - I did get lucky [2] in many ways, as there is no way I could have planned all of this.
   

As you can see, many things can found in a simple photo that is captured in a fraction of a section. It is also interesting how circumstances sometime conspire to allow a photo to be taken.

I entered this photo in the 2007 Sydney Life Competition (unfortunately can't find an archive of the official page though I found a media release here). I always try each year to make an entry to the competition as it is open to all photographers, though it is virtually impossible for non-established photographers to make the final 22-26 images. Will keep trying though :-)

There is another story about this location which will come in another favourite photo at a later date.

[1] I would always say to Jenny a good photo always has a little bit of red in it and this is a theme you will see in many of my photos.

[2] Also would often tell Jenny, there was a lot of luck in taking photos (though like all things involving luck, you often make you own luck) and that if you take enough photos you are bound to end up with a few your like (i.e. keepers).

The night before brain surgery ..

Another extract from Lance Armstrong's book entitled "Its not about the bike". Some parts of the book really connected with me. Here is the one that resonates the most ..

How do you confront your own death? Sometimes I think the blood-brain barrier is more than just physical, it's emotional, too. Maybe there's a protective mechanism in our psyche that prevents us from accepting our mortality unless we absolutely have to.

Jenny - 'A little tidy up of Jenny's hair - it was always my job to do this.' - Kirrawee - 16 Jun 2009 (picasa)
The night before brain surgery, I thought about death. I searched out my larger values, and I asked myself, if I was going to die, did I want to do it fighting and clawing or in peaceful surrender? What sort of character did I hope to show? Was I content with myself and what I had done with my life so far? I decided that I was essentially a good person, although I could have been better—but at the same time I understood that the cancer didn't care.

Jenny and Geoff - 'off we head to the Hospital' - Tue 16 Jun 2009 (picasa)
I asked myself what I believed. I had never prayed a lot. I hoped hard, I wished hard, but I didn't pray. [..]

I believed, too, in the doctors and the medicine and the surgeries — I believed in that. [..]

Jenny Collage - The Night Before Brain Surgery - The White Markers were placed on Jenny's head before an MRI - they would be used by the Nuerosurgeon to assist in precisely locating the Tumor from a digital scan of the MRI. - St George Hospital - Tue 16 Jun 2009 (picasa)

Beyond that, I had no idea where to draw the line between spiritual belief and science. But I knew this much: I believed in belief, for its own shining sake. To believe in the face of utter hopelessness, every article of evidence to the contrary, to ignore apparent catastrophe— what other choice was there? We do it every day, I realized. We are so much stronger than we imagine, and belief is one of the most valiant and long-lived human characteristics. To believe, when all along we humans know that nothing can cure the briefness of this life, that there is no remedy for our basic mortality, that is a form of bravery.

Jenny with the Flowers from Julia and Todd (photo to come), and Pacific Dragons - St George Hospital - Tue 16 Jun 2009 (picasa)

To continue believing in yourself, believing in the doctors, believing in the treatment, believing in whatever I chose to believe in, that was the most important thing, I decided. It had to be.

Without belief, we would be left with nothing but an overwhelming doom, every single day. And it will beat you. I didn't fully see, until the cancer, how we fight every day against the creeping negatives of the world, how we struggle daily against the slow lapping of cynicism. Dispiritedness and disappointment, these were the real perils of life, not some sudden illness or cataclysmic millennium doomsday. I knew now why people fear cancer: because it is a slow and inevitable death, it is the very definition of cynicism and loss of spirit. So, I believed.

Jenny, Joanne, David and Geoff - "Jenny takes a photo of us all just before she heads out to have a 4cm brain tumor removed. She had no fear and looked forward to quickly recovering to resume the treatment of the tumors in her liver." - St George - 6:30am Wed 17 Jun 2009 (picasa)

Will try add some more photos (partly done now - Geoff 10 Mar 2009) and maybe some of my own recollections and thoughts on Jenny's Night before brain surgery. There is a bit of story here if I can find the strength to write about it.

Jenny - 'Just before heading out for surgery.' - St George Hospital - 7am Wed 17 Jun 2009 (picasa)

On Inspiration - Carmen Beirne / The Road to Character (Tue 30 Jun 2015)

Self Portrait - Six Years - St George Private Hospital (Tue 30 Jun 2015)

Cecelia Beirne on Inspiration:

I can inspire confidence in others, I can be inspired..

via PURPOSE: “SHE’D TAKEN THE TIME TO KNOW ME” by Cecelia Beirne

The last time I remember sitting on this seat was the afternoon of the day before Jenny died. I came out of the ICU to give Joanne some time with Jenny and to shed a quiet tear in silence and solitude under the late afternoon blue sky. The tears rolled down my cheeks and I could taste their saltiness (a recent familiar taste from the heightened emotions anniversaries seem to bring). Some tears had time to dry and become dry crusty white trails down my cheeks. And I tried to wipe them away quickly as one of the ICU Nurses approached and sat down next to me to chat before the start of her shift. I can't remember much about our conversation but I do remember being shown compassion and empathy.

Yesterday, on the 6th Anniversary of Jenny's passing, I sat here and asked Joanne to make this photo using my phone camera. The passage of 6 years in time between those two moments is hard to comprehend but I see it in my Minds Eye and I can definitely feel it all as I look at this photo. I don't really know what to write..Maybe it has already been written?

When I sat here six years ago I did not know Jenny would die the next day, though I knew it would be soon - I had already realistically resigned myself to that fact. I also did not know how my life would unfold in that six year time gap. It has been a roller-coaster and I have bumped and knocked my way around life. Apologies to anyone I have bruised along the way. I question some times if I'm getting any better at it all, or whether I just keep making the same old mistakes, though I would like to think I have grown a little and made a small difference to those around me, in my own small ways, just as the ICU nurse did as she sat next to me six years ago. I think of these small moments often and I draw inspiration and guidance from it and wherever I can. Enough now for another year.

A Story About a Camera - 2015 Inspire Award Reflections (Fri 27 Aug 2015)

Memories of Jenny - The Time of Your Life (youtube)

This is my 2000th post here at eljeiffel.

I always try to write something for the Annual Presentation of the Inspire Award. Most times it is just for me, but sometimes I share it with a few people. So here it is, unedited from the time it was written on the evening of Fri 27 Aug 2015. I think it is a pretty good way to mark the milestone.

As many will know, I have another obsession in my life - Photography.

I started out buying a small digital camera for our Dec 2000 trip to the Cook Islands to visit Jenny and Jo's Meditation teacher, Barbara, who had moved there to help setup a refuge for women . We didn’t know a thing about paddling back then.

I had bought the camera hoping I would be able to capture our memories. It was a tiny digital camera by today’s standards, 1 Mega Pixel and it cost $1600 duty free and a 64 MB compact flash memory cost more than $300.

I did not flinch and I thought it was all worth it, as my credit card was swiped at Ted’s Camera Store the day before we flew out. 15 years later I can tell you here that it was one of the best things I ever did.

My motivation for the camera came from that fact that Jenny had 11 tumours in her lungs and I did not really know how long we would have together. In the end we had just over 9 years of married life. Given Jenny’s condition, a miracle really ..

We were married on 30th April of that Sydney Olympic year and we honeymooned on Lord Howe Island for 10 glorious days in May 2000. Jenny had a film camera and she took many photos.

On our return flight to Sydney, I remember a conversation we had at the Departure Terminal with an older couple from Whyalla who congratulated us on our marriage. We had briefly met them at dinner at one of the small restaurants on the Island.

They told us they had been married for many years and the trip to Lord Howe Island was a way of creating another experience in life and expanding their memories. Better than [running a busy business or] sitting at home and watching the Telly, they said.

This conversation and piece of simple worldly wisdom has stuck with me and I remind myself of it constantly. It was my main motivation to buy that small expensive digital camera for our December 2000 trip to the Cook Islands.

I took many photos that trip to Cook Islands, even of the Outrigger Canoes in the lagoon at Aitutaka, we had no idea what they were – who would guess our future.

Shortly after our return, Jenny and Jo found Dragon Boating. And over the ensuing years many experiences and memories were created, dutifully captured by our cameras.

I documented the many dragon boat campaigns here and abroad, and ensuing holidays that followed each event.

In the process of this documenting I came to realise the power of photography, not only its visual power, but its ability to record our experiences and remind us of things we have done and who we were. We were doing selfies before the term was even invented. We called them “Holdouts” and I think this might be the main cause of Jo’s shoulder injury.

In those last few weeks at St George Hospital in Jun 2009, I captured the last moments of our lives together. They are the best I ever made.

After Jenny’s passing, It took me a while to pick up a camera again. I had lost my purpose and will. I was hurting and numb all at once but paddled through for a year or two – it helped a lot to be busy and in the company of friends. New experiences were created and I even smiled [for] a little [while].

Lost in the enormity of what had happened so quickly, though it was not a surprise, I found my first moments of comfort and hope, when I decided to start looking at some of the photos from our lives together. It made me cry, but it also made me smile. I was so happy that I had this archive of bits and bytes to remind me of Jenny, Joanne, myself and who we were.

It was only after Jo told me to organise my photos and my Mum said I should start making photos again, that I started to move forward. I was completely broken but I took up their advice and kept myself busy again, organising and photographing again. I am still broken but I live with it better now, it is part of me and who I will always be, but I am happy, optimistic, naïve and creating more experiences.

So I guess what I am trying to say is that we have to go out there and make our memories through the experiences we create for ourselves. And this is what I love about PD’s, we are always out there doing something. This time last year we were in Bologna on our way to Ravena, this year we are heading to Hawaii in the next week and month, next year Adelaide and who knows where after that.

Finally, in our lives we have loss, grief and bereavement. It is a part of living. You make a choice when it knocks on your door. And we have chosen to live in the Afterglow of our loss of Jenny – to remember and honour and be guided and inspired. Accept it and live with it and make the most of it, even let it inspire and motivate you. And that is what Jo and I have done, I would like to think.

“Believe in Hope” as the graffiti’ed wall in Cleveland Street said for a few weeks in July 2015.

Believe in Hope - Cleveland Street / Chippendale (Wed 29 Jul 2015)

With this post it is time to let go of a lot things, including the photos of another time and life. I have shed my life here (and Facebook more recently) like a snake sheds it skin and there is nothing left but to start over again. Time to move on, but it is hard to let go .. but I will.

Trying to make a new start here (arotlt.com) with photos from this point onwards. There will be the occasional post at eljeiffel to mark the odd moment in our lives that are relevant, but for now thanks for coming along for the ride these last, almost, 7 years.

symbolically the black rose suggests death, or the completion of a long journey (Trent Parke’s moving Black Rose photo exhibition at Art Gallery of SA ) - Black Rose / Fitzroy Street / Newtown (Sun 29 Nov 2015)

Jenny’s Gold Medal

PRAGUE 2009 – 9TH IDBF WORLD DRAGON BOAT CHAMPIONSHIPS – AUG 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.

World Champs!! – “Thank You Jenny”
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 ..

Geoff, Mike and Joanne - Prague/Racice - Day 3 - 28 Aug 2009

Mike and Joanne - Prague/Racice - Day 3 - 28 Aug 2009
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”.

Senior Mixed 500m Final - Day 4 - 29 Aug 2009 - "Don't Wonder 'What If?'" Jenny P

Australian Senior Mixed 500m Team – Prague/Racice - Day 4 - 29 Aug 2009
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.

Jenny with Joanne and Geoff's Medals – Prague/Hotel Duo - Day 4 - 29 Aug 2009
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.

Geoff, Mike and Joanne with Jenny's Paddle and Gold Medal - Prague/Racice - Day 5 - Sun 30 Aug 2009
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.

Joanne and Geoff scattering Jenny's Ashes - Prague/Racice - Day 5 - Sun 30 Aug 2009


Jenny’s Gold Medal from Lane 1 Pontoon - Prague/Racice - Day 5 - Sun 30 Aug 2009
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 ..

Don’t Wonder “What If?” – Jenny P

.. 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 ..

Julia - Thank You.
"Triple J" - Joanne, Julia and Jenny - AusDBF Nationals - After Party – Kawana/Qld - Sun 26 April 2009

Tree - Tompkins Square Park - Alphabet City / New York (Wed 17 Aug 2011)

Tree - Tompkins Square Park - Alphabet City / New York (Wed 17 Aug 2011)
Stumbled across this blog - NY Through the Lens - New York City Photography (*) - recently and added it to me Google Reader.

It sparked my interest because of the photography content and the interesting stories about the 5 boroughs of New York, particularly the Lower East side of Manhattan which I spent a bit of time exploring on the recent trip to New York.

This story - Street corner and ode to Bob Arihood. Alphabet City. East Village, New York City. (*) - popped up today on my Reader. Its a story of the Lower East side area known as Alphabet City where the north to south running avenues of Manhattan are named by the letters of the alphabet, not the more well known numbered avenues a bit further to the west.

The post was sparked by the passing of a local identity and photographer by the name of Bob Arihood (*). I read the post with interest and it brought back some recent memories for me ...

During the recent trip to New York (*) I spent a couple of days exploring parts of New York I had not even heard of before. One place was Alphabet City on the Lower East. Decided I would explore these areas by wandering around at random after looking at my well used crumpled A4-size Map of Manhattan. Looking at the map I saw the area had a number of parks which I thought I would visit and sit in for a while to just observe what the locals were doing,

Started out at Washington Square Park (*) and then moved quickly onto Union Square Park (*). Both were full of local market stalls and I quickly passed them by as they were crowded with the tourists.

Thought I would try my luck at the next park, Stuyvesant Park (*), a bit further to the east and hopefully away from the tourist crowds. Found it easily and it was what I hoped it would be - a small park for the locals of the Lower East side. There were many seats and tables in the shade provided by the many leafy trees that filled the small and inviting Park.

As it was quite hot, I decided to sit for a while and just observe the going ons in the park. Indeed it was a park for the locals and time quickly passed and I nodded off for a while into a dreamy sleep.

When I woke I sat a while longer and then moved onto the next park - Tompkins Square Park (*). This park was bigger and busier, and there was an eclectic mix of people there. I can remember dog owners walking their little friends (actually one was probably the biggest dog I had ever seen), street people, joggers, people walking home after a days work and others just like me sitting in the park. I can still hear a small band singing religious pop songs on the edge of the park near the Flea Market Cafe (*).

As I look at Bob's (*) photos (*) (*) I can remember the time and I can sense and feel the place. His photo from 27 July 2011 (*) put a smile on my face, particularly when I read the comment - Joe gets photographed a lot these days (*).

For me, his photos give me a strong connection of place and being there, even if it was just for part of an afternoon. At the same time Bob's photos motivate me and give me a strong desire to return to New York for an extended period of time and just do what I did that day back Wed 17 Aug 2011 (*).

Bob seemed like great guy and his passing is no doubt moving time for those that knew him. He leaves a legacy which I (and many others) will no doubt explore further both online and hopefully in person when I next go to New York.