Trifter

I love having the freedom to visit my favourite place, North Head (Sydney, Australia) as often as possible. There is no particular time because all visits in all weathers have their own special characteristics. When facing east looking out over the ocean one should try to imagine the view, which has not altered in hundreds of thousands of years. It’s a particular form of time traveling. Your cleanskin view is somewhat interrupted by boats, planes, some city noise and natural erosion of the stone features, however, the water gloriously smashing up against the cliff has not altered in its determination to transport your imagination. The relentless rumbling swish and foaming of the sea is as passing time suggests to us, as poignant as it has been for hundreds of thousands of years. Try standing alone looking outwards and concentrate on the salt in the wind whipping at your face. Take the opportunity to reflect on life, not yours alone because the beauty of surrendering to such natural power illuminates your imagination and consequently floods your pleasure receptors turning them into diamonds. The view, this natural flat-widescreen landscape enhances the infinitesimal details of my life to the point here nature’s magic somehow explains to me the reality that one day I will not exist. At that singularity of thought I am directed by the allure of my natural surroundings that I need not contest the reality of my physical body reverting to dust.

Years ago I doubt I would have found much solace in vistas. I would have used alcohol, nicotine or medication to set my troubled mind at ease. Now I live with the ebb and flow of my brain’s chemical processes and when natural vistas penetrated my mindless apathy it switched me on. Still, it is a myth because the natural high lasts only as long as I am experiencing its caresses. North Head is a magnificent site of existential release and I understand that I cannot live there. But then again why can’t I?