Closer to the Edge by 30 seconds to Mars (youtube)

Closer to the Edge by 30 seconds to Mars (youtube)

I will never forget
I will never regret
I will live my life

Closer to the Edge by 30 seconds to Mars


My philosophy in life is ..
'Don't regret anything you do,
because in the end, it makes you who you are.'

Wise words from a young girl at the beginning of Closer to the Edge Video

'Don't regret anything you do .. - Closer to the Edge by 30 seconds to Mars

Now that I am commuting 35-45 minutes each day to and from Kirrawee to Alexandria, I am getting to hear a lot more songs on the radio. I have heard this song a few times over the last year or so and have always liked it. A few times I have tried to remember a few words from the lyrics, but have not been able to track it down until Friday, when I heard on the way to work.

Having seen Tree of Life (more here and here) yesterday afternoon. I was stunned by the movie and how it seemed to capture many of my thoughts on the loss of my brother Tim, and how he coped (or struggled his whole life really) with the loss of our Father when he was just 18 years old (yet another story for another day). The following lyrics to me have some connection with the Movie and my feelings from it - they intertwine.

Closer to the Edge

I don't remember one moment, I tried to forget
I lost myself, is it better not said?
Now I'm closer to the edge

If it's a thousand to one and a million to two
Time to go down in flames and I'm taking you
Closer to the edge

No, I'm not saying I'm sorry
One day maybe we'll meet again
No, I'm not saying I'm sorry
One day maybe we'll meet again

(No, no, no, no)

Can you imagine a time when the truth ran free
The birth of a sun and the death of a dream
Closer to the edge

This never ending story
Hateful with pride and fate
We all fall short of glory, lost in ourselves

No, I'm not saying I'm sorry
One day maybe we'll meet again
No, I'm not saying I'm sorry
One day maybe we'll meet again

(No, no, no, no)

I will never forget
I will never regret
I will live my life

No, I'm not saying I'm sorry
One day maybe we'll meet again
No, I'm not saying I'm sorry
One day maybe we'll meet again

Closer to the edge
Closer to the edge

Happy 100th Birthday - Den lille havfrue / Copenhagen (Fri 23 Aug 2013)

Happy 100th Birthday - Den lille havfrue (*) / Copenhagen (Fri 23 Aug 2013)
We are in Copenhagen for the last stop on our Europe 2013 (*) Adventure. I wanted to come here because of the numerous Danish TV Series, Unit One (Rejseholdet) (*), The Eagle: A Crime Odysse (Ørnen: En krimi-odyssé) (*) and more recently Borgen (*), that are so well crafted and are shown on SBS (*) with excellent subtitles.

For some reason, I love the Danish accent and it is a language I like for some reason. It is very easy to identify and they all seem to have deep voices and it almost appears that it is spoken from the middle/back of the mouth and tongue.

Australia now has a close connection with Denmark, through Mary, the Crown Princess of Denmark (*), or our Mary, as we Australian's fondly refer. And of course, there is the late Danish Architect, Jørn Utzon (*), who designed the Sydney Opera House (*).

We learnt in Amsterdam that today would be the Den lille havfrue (*) (The Little Mermaid) 100th Birthday. A visit was always planned, but it would be a special visit. Joanne had first seen her in 1984 with Jenny on their first European trip, and Joanne and I had seen her in Shanghai in the Danish Exhibition at the 2010 World Expo (*), following the 2010 Asian Dragon Championships in Wujin (*)

Today Joanne and I rose early to see the sunrise on Den lille havfrue (*). It was quiet when we arrived following a short walk from our Hotel, which through good fortune was only a 5 minute walk. There were the street cleaners making sure she would look her best, which is something I am sure is done everyday.

A couple of local TV Crews were in attendance and preparations were underway to interview a couple of people.


We made a few photos amongst ourselves and couple of others who were randomly passing and offered to photograph us. Little did they know they would end up in the photo with us.



We decided to spread some of Jenny's Ashes in the water near the Statue. It was nice to see that a little bit of Jenny would remain here and that we can think of her here and the wonderful moments she had with Jo in 1984 as well as the time that Jo and I had today.


Shortly afterwards we were asked if we would like to be interviewed by one of the TV crews. We more than happy to agree and we gave our little story as outlined above. On reflection, I feel I may have given them the impression that we travel the world to see the Mermaid wherever she maybe. While we don't explicitly do this, maybe there is a connection, as Jo and Jenny are of Swedish descent, I would like to think that maybe it is just good fortune and maybe a special implicit relationship that draws us together for small meetings every now and then.

Geoff, Maree Louise, Kristian and Joanne - Den lille havfrue / Copenhagen (Fri 23 Aug 2013)
A couple of moments I will remember, and touched me, as they showed me the fondness that the Statue has to the people of Copenhagen.

The first was a local runner, a little older than myself, pulled up from his run, stepped down to the rocks we were standing on and then stepped across the watery gap to touch the Statue on her tail. As he passed us, he said with a smile on his face, "it is her 100th birthday". We smiled back and said, "yes, we know".

The second moment was a local rowing crew, who we had seen putting there boat on the water, on the our way to the Statue, passed her on the way out for their training session. They stopped and removed their oars form their rollicks and raised them to acknowledge her special day. They did same thing on their return.




I have another lovely story to tell in a later post, maybe tonight.

There are all kinds of celebrations today, including 100 Mermaids entering the water near the Statue at 4pm and fireworks this evening at 9pm.

Better get going. Last day here and for our trip (*).

Follow Your Own Path - David Brooks / NYT (Wed 27 Jun 2012)

"Black Abstraction" Abstraction - Georgia O'Keefe - The Met / New York (Mon 15 Aug 2012)
David Brooks makes some interesting observations (*) about growing up, locality and following your own path:

Don't try to be everyman. Don't pretend you're a member of every community you visit. Don't try to be citizens of some artificial globalized community. Go deeper into your own tradition. Call more upon the geography of your own past. Be distinct and credible. People will come.

On Black Abstraction (*) - I had known of Georgia O'Keefe through her relationship with Alfred_Stieglitz (*) (I have a book on his life, but can't remember it's title or where it is now). When I walked into the Gallery Hall with her paintings, I knew I would spend some time there. There were many colourful paintings of abstract views of flowers, desert scenes and buffalo skulls. Black Abstraction caught my gaze and I just stood in front of it and thought of many things. Maybe I thought the dark painting reflected how I felt after recent experiences.

Becoming a little abstract and self absorbed (as i do this time of the year). The path through the painting represented my journey since Jenny left us and I had become stuck (*) in this place (I had known this for some time). The little bright white dot gave me hope that there was something still inside me and all it would take was a small sign to get me on my way again. Funnily enough, it would come two days later on a Subway Train. It was such a tiny gesture (*) by a complete stranger.

Maybe the importance to me of such a tiny and simple gesture, indicated how low I had sunk in my journey in life without Jenny there beside me. I don't know really, like most things. Anyway I did like the painting and I am glad this post gave me the opportunity to put the photo here and to research it's background a little more.

To finish, I love this quote by Georgia O'Keefe on Abstraction:

Abstraction is often the most definite form for the intangible thing in myself that I can only clarify in paint.

Maybe I could say the same thing except apply it to photography, as my words seem totally inadequate to describe where I have been, what I have felt and where I think I am heading.

Angels on the Moon by Thriving Ivory

Angels on the Moon by Thriving Ivory
A couple of quotes from various web sites and the lyrics follow:

From Angels on the Moon at wikipedia:

Songwriter and keyboardist Scott Jason told Songfacts that "Angels on the Moon" was also inspired by the U2 song "Where The Streets Have No Name".[2] The line, "Don't tell me if I'm dying, `cause I don't want to know" is a way of saying that life should be lived to the fullest, because a person's time on earth is unknown and if tomorrow never comes, there will be no regrets.

Another quote from a blog post at dosomething.org:

CelebsGoneGood: "Angels on the Moon" was inspired by the tragic events of September 11. Does it still get a strong reaction today?

Clayton Stroope: It's one of the first songs we wrote and recorded together. Although it can be monotonous to sing the same songs night after night, the reaction from the crowd gives it new energy. Because of the lyrics, the song takes on a different meaning for each individual person. Last night, a fan drove 4 hours to see our show. Her mother suffered from breast cancer and the song has a special meaning for her.

Angels on the Moon - Lyrics

Do you dream that the world will know your name,
So tell me your name (tell me your name)
And do you care, about all the little things,
Or anything at all (or anything at all),

I wanna feel all the chemicals inside,
I wanna feel (I wanna feel),
I wanna sunburn just to know that I'm alive,
To know I'm alive (to know if I'm alive),

Don't tell me if I'm dying,
Cause I don't wanna know,
If I can't see the sun,
Maybe I should go,
Don't wake me cause I'm dreaming,
Of angels on the moon,
Where everyone you know,
Never leaves too soon

Do you believe in the day that you were born,
Tell me do you believe, (do you believe)
And do you know that every day's the first of the rest of your life,

Don't tell me if I'm dying,
Cause I don't wanna know,
If I can't see the sun,
Maybe I should go,
Don't wake me cause I'm dreaming,
Of angels on the moon,
Where everyone you know,
Never leaves too soon,

This is to one last day in the shadows,
And to know a brothers love,
This is to New York City angels,
And the rivers of our blood,
This is to all of us,
To all of us,

So don't tell me if I'm dying,
Cause I don't wanna know,
If I can't see the sun,
Maybe I should go,
Don't wake me cause I'm dreaming,
Of angels on the moon,
Where everyone you know,
Never leaves too soon,

Yeah you can tell me,
All your thoughts about the stars,
That fill polluted skies,
And show me where you run to,
When no one's left to take your side
But don't tell me where the road ends,
Cause I just don't wanna know,
No, I don't wanna know,

Don't tell me if I'm dying,
Don't tell me if I'm dying.

Learning ..

Hidden in one of Drew Ginn's recent Blog Posts is this little piece on pushing yourself, motivation, challenges and learning - something I have done a lot of over the last 8-9 months. Thought I would pull it out here so that I can remember this great little piece of writing. Here it is:

[..] I learned to ride my rhythm, to find my own groove and to sit on the knife edge with fatigue, discomfort and sweat surrounding, penetrating and leaving me. At no stage was it intense like a rowing race or a super burst of effort. It was an experience in sustaining a level of force which body and mind was saying, 'BACK OFF'.

Like some sinister and shadowy creator holding an emotional gun to my head. Tempting as it might have been I had committed to the 7 days and on the last to having a great ride with heaps of challenge.

You could say I learned what I have learned before and now I have been reminded of it again.

Stretching and challenging is healthy. It requires us to keep pushing and to keep seeking motivation for why we would continue on. Why I asked my self on more than one occasion during the 7 days. Even as I spent the day at back home yesterday I was still asking why.

Placing your self in a challenging situation forces the questions to be asked.

I did this by going to Tassie to train with a good friend.

To train in a way which would force the questions to come thick and fast and they did and with each and every moment which one appeared I toiled and churned it around to cultivate and see what I would learn about self, others and the World I am in.

Again I say why? To learn is the only answer which I could find. To Learn, but why? It gives life.

Maybe. It brings clarity. Not always. It energises, YES, but it can also be draining.

Why then would I do any of this? Why would you? To be challenged is something which for sometime now I have said is a reason for my motivation. Maybe challenge is not enough.

Challenge without the acknowledgment of the learning required and needed is only one side of the coin. What happens if every time we toss it and it only ever landed on the challenge side.

We might assume that is all there is. Every stage, moment, event, session, day, hour and minute if challenged we might eventually find little else but a sense of seeking something which never ends.

Flipping the coin, the moment, experience and our perception can bring light to the other side or even sides. Maybe less a coin and more a cube it is with multiple sides and perspectives. A cube like RUBIX which starts out perfect with all colours separated on each side.

Then with everyday the play, the games, and events acting to jumble the cube until we finally realise it is rearranged.

How we feel about that becomes essential and what we do with it becomes simple a challenge. From this rearranged state we might begin to work to find the form or the essence of this box or cube. Learning to work with it in what ever state jumble or un-jumbled becomes important I think. Living with and learning from it. The challenge of it, the frustration and the joy.

So there it is I have gone away for 7 days of challenge which was more about learning than anything else.

Orange Bike - Toulouse - Fri 25 Sep 2009

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.

Spiderman - Hero Forever - 02 May 2002 (youtube)

Spiderman - Hero Forever - 02 May 2002 (youtube)

Whatever life holds in store for me, I will never forget these words:

"With great power comes great responsibility."

This is my gift, my curse. Who am I? I'm [..]

Peter Parker (Spiderman - 02 May 2002)

2:15am Fri 01 July 2011 - I found myself thinking about this closing Cemetery scene from Spiderman as I lay in bed reflecting on my day - the 2nd Anniversary of Jenny's passing.

The day had a few twists and turns I was not expecting - but that is the beauty of life.

Peter Parker's words seemed to resonate with me the first time I heard them many years ago with Jenny at my side at the Kogarah Mecca. Today they resonate just as much, if not more.

Postscript: I put the above video and words on my Facebook Profile in the early hours of Friday morning. For some reason this scene came into my head. I am not sure why, but I guess there must have been a reason. Maybe I would think of this scene once or twice a year and I always go searching for the above quote (now it is here I don't have to search too far to find it).

There are not too many scenes from movies I can remember as well as this one (another movie that is indelibly stamped in my memory is Fearless - a story for another day). Most movies I see, I am lucky to remember what the movie was about by the time I have watched the credits and walked out. A good movie might stay in my mind for a day or two. So for this scene to remain in my memory for 9 years, probably indicates some kind of association (for me, associative memory is my best form of recall).

Plenty of metaphors in the words and the cemetery scene clip - no need to worry, I don't think I have great powers, but maybe I feel a sense of responsibility to ensure that Jenny's is remembered and that her life is honoured.

On Photography and Memories - Streetshooter (Wed 21 Oct 2015)

Jenny and Geoff - I remember it being very hot - Prague (Wed 30 Aug 2005)

Streetshooter on Photography and Memories:

Photography is one of the seductive means of making memories. So I wonder why many aren’t aware that they are making memories. [..]

What’s really going on is that you are making memories and maybe just maybe those photos will have importance to someone. [..]

[during the Vietnam War] I became acutely aware that photography is about memories. It’s about other shit too, but memories are the main source of image information transference.[..]

See, they are not just my memories. [..] All will be forgotten of the pain that still hurts 45 years later.

the photos, well… they are just memories…………..

via Streets of Philadelphia … A Visual Diary … Page 25 … Street … Memories of Future Past … Fuji X100s by Streetshooter.

The very reason I bought a small digital camera in Dec 2000. And just as important as recording memories, you need to make the memories happen. You have to live while you can. And we did just that. Thanks Jenny and Jo.

On Mastery Motivation - Drew Ginn (Fri 7 Jun 2013)

Water - St Agnes / Cornwall (09 Sep 2009)
Drew Ginn (*) writes On Mastery Motivation (*):

Deep down I always wanted a greater connection and loved to explore. This happened in many areas.

Exploring thought process, movement patterns, biases, relationships, failure and obvious exploring success.

I really stuffed up more than I care to remember. Many mistake were made and the surprise is that I kept at it when many others gave up, left, changed their plans.

I stayed the course, and in one sense it was just the course, which probably was unclear to others yet, I knew I was seeking a better way, greater, intending (*) and learning (*).

Mastery (*) then is key I think as its takes the performance from simply doing and achieving or not to becoming more aware, intending (*), taking action, making mistakes (*) and making it count, and reviews (*).

Mastery (*) dare I say it is a journey and never the destination.

It’s the joy in striving for perfection, the working towards the best, to be the best and yet the result is not just best but a newer version or a reshaping of things.

Strange how I can see all that striving was the best part and when I watch other not full enjoying the striving I find myself wondering how I can assist in the unearthing of the mind shift from result to mastery seeking.

Sure I get the need to get the results and after having a few results fall my way its easier to state these words.

What I realise is that some time ago just learning (*) become the many motive

via A Wanderers Update (*) by Drew Ginn (*).

People ask me why I keep paddling? Why put myself through it all, over and over again. I've been fortunate and have experienced it all - the highs and the lows. Maybe it is like Alex with his photography (*), but maybe it is what Drew writes about so well here?

No Stopping - Luca Turrini (Thu 30 Nov 2017)

No Stopping - Fremantle (Mon 27 Nov 2017)

Luca Turrini on No Stopping:

This has never been about breaking records. It has always been about doing something we love and help other people. And, maybe, just maybe in doing that, achieving something incredible and that is what we did today. And I think sometimes we don't believe we can do amazing things. That is what this is all about.

via Outrun Cancer by Tenplay.

On Understanding and Expectation - Elvis Costello / Spectrum (Sat 31 Aug 2013)

A Door (*), A Window (*) - Red and Blue - Paddington / London (Sat 17 Aug 2013)
Elvis Costello (*) talks about musical creation (*):

We were somewhat free from expectations (*) because we didn't tell anybody we were doing it, because we didn't know (*) we were doing it ourselves at first.''

via Pump it up: How hip-hop seduced Elvis Costello (*) by Nick Miller (*).

Back home now. A fantastic trip (*) with many great moments and experiences. Not a natural traveller, but this trip I seemed to handle it all better than I ever have and was fully engaged in the moment, not feeling homesick and not wanting myself to be somewhere else.

Hardly gave my work, paddling or situation in life (my usual preoccupations) a thought. A usual thought was to try and understand a place, event or thing, not to judge or to wish it to be something I am familiar with. It is there for a reason, and if I could just understand it a little, then I might learn something about it, life, or even myself.

I also thought how lucky I was to able to do this, to have these experiences and this outlook on life.

Took over 10,000 photos and have much to look at and ponder over the next few months, in particular, and no doubt, for the rest of my life.

Some photos have been taken so I can remember a place, a moment, or a transientary thing - to give it a life beyond its time.

Some have been taken because something caught my eye - a colour, a combination of colours, lines, shadows or maybe just the quality of the light.

Others I think have been captured for reasons beyond my comprehension, just as Elvis explains above. Most of these photos will never be seen by another person and in some ways this relieves me of any expectation or what others might think, as the above quote so nicely demonstrates.

So if you think some of the photos that appear here are a little beyond comprehension, maybe you should be thankful that you don't see some of the others that will never seen by anyone other than me.

Thanks Elvis and Nick, a great interview which allowed me to learn something about myself, which is what great writing and its sharing is about.

Angels on the Moon - Thriving Ivory (youtube)

Angels on the Moon by Thriving Ivory
Don't tell me if I'm dying,
Cause I don't wanna know,
If I can't see the sun,
Maybe I should go,


Jenny wrote ..

I have always said to all of my doctors "Don’t give me a prognosis". I believe the mind is very powerful and I don’t want it locking onto any sort of timeframe. My mother was of the same opinion and she didn’t want her doctors to put any time constraints on her life. I am not silly, I know my situation is serious as through my associations with cancer support groups I have seen others with a similar diagnosis to me not be so lucky. But everyone’s journey is different. Each time I see a new doctor I say up front "Don’t give me a time".

Jenny and Jodi (Jenny's Oncologist) - St George Private Hospital - Mon Evening 22 Jun 2009
Jenny's last sunrise (see photo's below) before her heart failed around midday on Tue 23 Jun 2009. She was revived and spent the last week of her life in ICU (more here).

The photos are by a friend Jeff Grant. I have photographed this beach with Jeff and another friend Leigh Perry. Some photos will be posted here in the future.

Solstice #2 - Turrimeta / Sydney - Jeff Grant (Sunrise Tue 23 Jun 2009)
Joanne and I both remember Jenny talking to us about watching the sunrise over Botany Bay that day from her hospital bed at St George Private Hospital. Jo and I were both supposed to be at a early morning base building Aus dragon boat session at Blackwattle Bay but we were both very tired from Jenny's hospital visit to remove a 4cm brain tumor a week earlier. Jenny said she thought of us as she watched this beautiful sunrise. Jo and I often talk about this and always feel a little guilty that we were not out there on the water that morning doing what Jenny would have loved to be doing.

Jenny was always positive about her cancer and never asked for a "prognosis". I know she knew how serious this situation was for her. Liz the Sutherland Shire Cancer Support Group Counsellor told me that Jenny actually cried at the Meeting the week before her operation, something Liz had not seen before.

When I heard this song for the first time (thanks again to Charlotte, we were always bound to meet) the above lines resonated with me instantly. It seemed to describe vividly Jenny's outlook and that last sunrise she witnessed ..

If I can't see the sun,
Maybe I should go

I have sat on this post for so long. Always feel like I can never capture what I am really trying to say. I think that is just about it. Time to watch Hell of the North. Life goes on, but it is important to remember.

Solstice #3 - Turrimeta / Sydney - Jeff Grant (Sunrise Tue 23 Jun 2009)

Touch - Noiseworks (youtube)

Touch - Jenny holding onto Life - Jenny, Joanne and Geoff - ICU / St George Private Hospital (*) (Sun 28 Jun 2009)
Though she could not move most of her body - she could not even breath unassisted, Jenny could hold our hands almost instinctively. Will never forget her touch.

Touch Lyrics by Noiseworks

Another day is goin' out, yeah
A sea of faces cryin' ou-out
With all we have today
You think we'd stop and take a look now, yeah-eah
All I want to say
Is maybe that we should reach out

Everybody - reach out and reach out and
Reach out and touch somebody
Reach out and reach out and
Reach out and touch somebody

In this old world we all can see, yeah
So let's take away the silent fear-ears, yeah-eah
With all of our mistakes
You think we'd stop and take a look now, yeah-eah
All I want to say
Is maybe that we should reach out

Everybody - reach out and reach out and
Reach out and touch somebody
Reach out and reach out and
Reach out and touch somebody
Reach out and reach out and
Reach out and touch somebody
Reach out and reach out and
Reach out and touch somebody

We'll find it, we'll find it
Reach Out
Ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh, Yeah

Everybody - reach out and reach out and
Reach out and touch somebody
Reach out and reach out and
Reach out and touch somebody
Reach out and reach out and
Reach out and touch somebody
Reach out and reach out and
Reach out and touch somebody-y-y...
I said reach out
I said reach ou-out

Touch - Noiseworks (*) (youtube)

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)

The London Light - Southwark Bridge / London (Fri 04 Sep 2009)

The London Light - Southwark Bridge / London (Fri 04 Sep 2009)
I have been to London twice now - Aug 2005 and Sep 2009. Both times, I have seen an amazing quality of light that seems much softer than the harsh (maybe strong is a better word) Australian sunlight that I have grown up with and love. It's just a photo of some construction barriers (I have a whole series of these which might appear here one day) but for me this photo reminds of the light that I talk about here - LottieP writes beautifully here about a certain slant of light (maybe the expression could be used for summer light also?). The Red barriers also reminded of a recent photo of two red sofa's.

"In these small hours" (Little Wonders by Rob Thomas)

The music video for Little Wonders by Rob Thomas with Meet The Robinsons (youtube)
Today I heard this song for the first time in at least 2 years. The above is a video and the lyrics are below.

It is swelting in Sydney as I write this, at the end of hot summers day and I am covered in sweat. Spent this lovely Saturday afternoon on Sydney Harbour paddling in an OC6 from Glebe to Middle Harbour and back. Very windy, very hot and tough conditions. Still a great session and it makes you realise how lucky we are to have this beautiful city, it's harbour, the experiences we make for ourselves and the friendships we have with each other.

Pacific Dragons OC6 Mixed Crew - Paul, Jenny, Geoff, Marie, Liz, and Leslie - Ettalong / Central Coast - Jan 2007 (picasa)
Anwyay, on the way back to Alexandria from the session, in Wilson Street / Newtown [Note: 1], I had my radio on and heard this song.

Instantly, I became quite emotional (actually started crying uncontrollably - yes I'll admit it) and had to pull over. It was the song I had been trying to find for the last 19 months, since Jenny left us. I did not know it's title or any of the lyrics. All I knew was the tune. As a result, this made it difficult to track down. Apart from the tune, I also felt it was a Matchbox Twenty song.

Jenny had talked about it on it's release, when someone in her Cancer Support Group played the song at one the weekly Tuesday meetings. It seemed to mean a lot to Jenny and all her colleagues at the Group. 

I had tried to find the song many times since Jenny's passing, and I now know I was looking in the wrong place, as it is Rob Thomas song, not a Matchbox Twenty song (I had even bought a few Matchbox Twenty CD's to try and find the song, obviously to no avail).

While listening to the song in the car this afternoon, all I tried to do was remember (my memory is not that flash) a line from the chorus so that I could search for it as soon as I got back to Alexandria. The line I remembered was: 

In these small hours

A quick search found the above video and I then realised the song was from a Disney Animation Movie Meet The Robinsons, which I know little about (I am sure it is very good - actually have half a feeling that Jenny and Jo may have sneaked it in one Tuesday afternoon at the Movies. Will check with Jo). So I have no idea of the meaning of the song in the context of the Movie. Though with every song I think we are allowed to bring our own experiences and interpretations to it, even if we mishear the lyrics (I am reassured that this is OK :-). 

Over the years, when Jenny was with us, I would often force myself to stay awake at night, so that I could hear her breathing (we were both good sleepers and it was often a race to see who would nod off first). The sound of her breath, and the silhouette of the rise and fall of the sheets covering her chest, gave me some reassurance. I could not comprehend that one day the cancer might extingusish the breath of this amazing person (where do I start to explain) and take this beautiful woman from us.

Jenny Asleep - Barbara's - Balmoral/Brisbane - Fri 19 Dec 2003
So when I hear the line:

In these small hours 

I think of those nights and the small hours where I would lay awake watching and listening to her breath - I would often tell Jenny that it was like music to my ears.

Anyway, I will leave it that. I will buy the CD and put the song on my iPhone. I need to listen to it some more and try to make the connection to the song that Jenny and her friends at the Sutherland Shire Cancer Support Group made to it. I suspect for me it might mean something completely different to Jenny as I can already see some things that I have felt since Jenny left us.

A bit of ramble but it is nice to capture these fragments of my memory here.

Needless to say, very excited to have found this song

Maybe the The hardest part is over? 

I know in writing this: These small hours - Still remain

As we said to each other every night (and I still do) as we lay in bed before nodding off to sleep:

Good Night, Sweet Dreams, God Bless, Love You.

With love and fond memories .. Geoff

[Note 1]: I love Wilson Street ( Newtown) - so many little things have happened there recently and over the years (at least in my own mind). Maybe these are some of These little wonders the song refers. I know these little things have helped me a lot over the last 19 months as I move through the grieving process [see Quote: Half a Life - NYT Book Review (12 Sep 2010) (17 Oct 2010) - in some ways that post was a real turning point for me when I look back at it now].

Little Wonders 
Rob Thomas

Let it go
Let it roll right off your shoulder
Don't you know
The hardest part is over
Let it in
Let your clarity define you 
In the end
We will only just remember how it feels

Our lives are made
In these small hours 
These little wonders
These twists and turns of fate 
Time falls away,
But these small hours
These small hours 
Still remain

Let it slide
Let your troubles fall behind you
Let it shine,
Till you feel it all around you
And I don't mind 
If it's me you need to turn to 
We'll get by
It's the heart that really matters in the end

Our lives are made
In these small hours 
These little wonders
These twists and turns of fate 
Time falls away
But these small hours
These small hours
Still remain

All of my regret
Will wash away somehow
But I cannot forget
the way I feel right now

In these small hours
These little wonders 
These twists and turns of fate
Yeah, these twisted turns of fate
Time falls away
Yeah, but these small hours, 
These small hours
Still remain

Yeah, oh they still remain
These little wonders
All these twists and turns of fate
Time falls away 
But these small hours 
These little wonders
Still remain

Five One Hundredths of a Second - 500m Premier Opens Final - AusDBF Nats / Penrith (Fri 19 Apr 2013)

Five One Hundredths of a Second - 500m Premier Opens Final - AusDBF Nats / Penrith (Fri 19 Apr 2013)
Once, twice or, maybe three times (if you are fortunate enough and willing to take the risks) in a paddling career you do something unbelievable. Something you just can’ t explain, though sometimes it worth giving it a try. Here goes ..

You are happy you have made the major final. You know you are up against strong teams. The favourite, the team directly on your left, you have not beaten in three years. In fact you have not been within a boat length, over 500m, for the last two years. Against the odds, and your failing self-confidence, you still somehow believe that we can still get across the line first. To be part of of something great. There is always hope at the start. It is a chance to create who you want to be. You don't get your hopes up too high, as you have been disappointed in the past. You don't think about all of this too much at this point. The focus is putting your best race on the water and seeing how it compares to the others when you have all crossed the line. You are not overly nervous, but you are excited and proud to be there. A supportive and encouraging tap on the knee for those around you. Remember it is a 30 stroke start. Just focus on the first 3 strokes and take it one by one from there. Clean water. Hand out of the water. Blade buried. Make sure you feel and stay connected with the water with every stroke. The starter aligns us and we ready. "Paddlers, are you ready, attention please" .... the gun does not fire for some reason. This has happened a few time before over the years. Keep your focus, no distractions. We will be away soon. Refocus, lets do it again - 30 Start, first 3, deep and clean - feel the water. "Paddlers, are you ready, attention please" ... "GO". You Go on the "G". 1-2-3, up, up, .. 10, up, up, .. 20, up, up, ..7,..30, reach, reach, hinge, hinge. The boat is up and running and there is something there. We are hingeing and driving through the stroke. The boat is more than running, it is been driven through the stroke like it has felt in training over last few weeks, except this time it is race intensity, not level 4, Remember this Geoff, Remember this moment. We are there next to them, where usually they pull away here, but we talked about staying connected. Give it everything to the 250m and refocus. Somehow, we are sttil there at the 250m. Refocus and reinvent yourself, I think. Drive, Drive is the call, We are still there, connected. You have a 6th sense (and good hearing) and you know without looking that our drummers are side by side. Passing the 200m start hut and the little red lane marker buoy. There is something uplifting in our Sweep's voice - "you are doing it". The lane buoys turn to red - we are 100m out. We have done everything our training has given our bodies - it's amazing to find that something extra that the sport scientists say should not be there. Mentally, prepare for the lift home. This is the most crucial part of the race - they are probably a nose ahead. We are going to have to do something amazing - something the other teams have pulled on us often over the years. "do it for the gold (or was it girls?)" is the call. We lift. We lift. The rate comes up a touch and the boat becomes light as we surge forward with every stroke - narrowing the margin. It is all clear as day, those last few strokes. You give it everything you've got when there is nothing to give. You cross the line, you hear the finish horn blast away in succussion. You look across and you know you have done it. The look in your competitors faces tell you that they know you have also done it and you take a few quiet moments to take it all in, while some of the others around you show their elation more jubilantly. Gasping for air, you touch the same knees as you did before the start. This time the "ritual" tap is to acknowledge your team mates efforts and the fact that you have done something that does not happen that often in a paddling career. "Three cheers for the other crews" is the call from our Drummer - three "hip hip". and a breathless "hooray". We bring the boats in and we all get off. Back slaps and hugs all around. Not even a second thought who won that one as you make your way through the other 180 or so paddlers you have just competed against. You smile and for some reason laugh. This kind of win does not happen that often - "take it in", "take it in" you say to yourself. You see many familiar faces as you walk through the line. They are happy for you. Many you have experienced some amazing experiences around the world in Australian Campaigns past and you hope that the journey with them will continue. Somewhere along the way you hear that we did it by five one hundredths of a second. You know the course well and you smile that you can pick such a small amount of time moments after crossing the line. What a race. You think to yourself, "it's not that we won it, it is how we won it" – it's just not what was expected by many (including yourself) and that is the beauty of dragon boat racing - the randomness and uncertainty to some extent. The boat has never felt like that out of the start and into the transition. You think to yourself, you have never paddled like that before. You feel fortunate that you took the risk to be there, you did the training, the testing, you've put yourself on the line time and time again. You have been crushed by the ramifications of defeat and oddly enough, those one or two other once in a life time victories . At the end of the day you know that it is worth the sacrifices you make to do what you have done, do and hope to do. Maybe this is not the end, but a new beginning ..

I will leave this unedited. It’s just a stream of thought that came out of my subconscious in the last 20 mins. Hope it makes sense and it will be fun to read, many year’s into the future.

Five One Hundredths of a Second - 500m Premier Opens Final - AusDBF Nats / Penrith (Fri 19 Apr 2013)

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