This photograph reminds me of the Odyssey. Or something. The little boat is all by itself, yet appears to have several people on board. Alone but not alone. Perhaps these are Ancient Greek waters. The dingy could be a small Ancient Greek fishing vessel propelled by Ancient Greek oars. The people on board could be wearing Ancient Greek robes and carrying Ancient Greek spears and shields – just in case. Or this little boat could be transporting a few furtive Vikings from Norway to England as they survey the coast and plan future battles.
High tide is getting later and later in the day. This was taken yesterday just after 5pm. These late tides are a bit of a challenge with shorter days and cooler temperatures. Daylight savings ended at the beginning of April so it is dark by about 6pm these days.
Daylight savings gives us a tiny taste of time travel. A whole hour. Reading is time travel. Any reading. The older the text, the further the travel. This blog has two time-threads running through it. The present, and the past. Present swims, and past swims that I have photographed but haven’t written about. Both of these threads are chronological. The present is always chronological and it gets mixed up with the past which is also chronological but only sometimes. I’d like to catch the past up to the present so there are no past photographs and swims left in the past. But they are all in the past. Even the present is in the past by the time I write about it. So, it is all in the past. And who cares about chronology. Well, I do. I love chronology. Cause and effect. The order of things. This happened, and then that. Events influence each other. Experiences shape us. Life seems to be a conflicted position a person sits in and is both being moulded by external forces and attempting to mould them.
Chronos is the father of Zeus, the father of all Gods. Time is the father of everything. Time marches on. Time is linear and time is circular. Trauma alters the relationship with time. Time is constant but to the traumatised it is excessively fast or excruciatingly slow. The head spins. Moments become hours. Hours disappear. Time is pain. The wish is for time to rewind back to the idyllic conditions before the trauma.
In relation to the thread detailing the swims of the distant past, the next batch of photographs were taken at Surfers Paradise in Australia. I’m going to write about that in the next blog then come back to this one and create a link that will travel forward in time. Kind of. Another thread I left hanging was mentioning that the Cricket World Cup final was currently being fought out between New Zealand and Australia. Well it didn’t turn out to be much of a fight. The Australians wiped the floor with the New Zealand cricketers. A game like that is not particularly pleasant to watch. Not so much because ‘my’ team lost, but because there was very little tension. I really felt for the New Zealand team when the inevitable loss became evident. I felt their pain and felt for them a bit more as they had to stick it out right to the end.