Each and every day starts out as a blank canvas and you never know what it is going to bring.
Yesterday, our town was covered in a very thick blanket of fog, clouds which have fallen to the ground and it was so atmospheric.
Such a gift!
xx Rowena
Although I wouldn’t describe myself as stuffy, there’s something in the air at Byron Bay that makes me so relaxed that I almost fall apart. It’s the most fabulous feeling that I wish I could pump it into the air and make everyone all over the world feel that magic.
If you know Byron Bay at all, even just by reputation, you could cynically agree that there’s definitely something in the air. Something that you smoke. That’s why Byron Bay has that unique ambiance. However, I didn’t even sense a whiff of the stuff. I’m talking about its natural beauty and how the sun, sky and sea gradually become white, powdery sand, green palms, jungle, green pastures dotted with cows or perhaps macadamia and coffee plantations until the earth meets the sky via those jagged blue hills.
The magic of Byron Bay is more than just going to the beach. Having a swim. This is something I actually take for granted and I live right near a beach and walk my dogs along the beach most mornings.
No, there’s something else. Something special which I don’t think anyone can truly name or understand which makes Byron Bay so special.
It just is.
Although I’ve shared some beautiful photos of Byron Bay, I thought this series of photos of my feet at the beach really captures how Byron Bay set me free. Indeed, as I relaxed I felt so liberated. That the layers of stress just peeled away, liberating the butterfly from her stiff and stuffy chrysalis to finally spread her wings and fly towards the sun.
The new arrival…shoes still on.
What you won’t appreciate simply by looking at this photo is that these shoes have practically been glued to my feet since I broke my foot last December. I had to wear a boot for about 3 months and then the physio told me it was joggers and I certainly haven’t worn any heels. Just the of pair of boots and now that Summer’s almost here, a pair of sandals. You could say I’ve been playing it safe but my feet have appreciated the extra support.
So my journey starts off with my feet in laced-up joggers…a bit over-dressed for the beach.
Especially when you don’t want to get your shoes wet.
Feet in the sand.
Now that you’ve actually seen my feet, I trust you’ve noticed and admired my rainbow nail polish….thanks to my daughter. It’s become a bit of a holiday thing where she paints our nails rainbow colours. That’s been my choice more than hers. Seeing my rainbow toe nails makes me smile and when I had my foot in the boot, I caught quite a few people smiling at them. I’d just smile at them and say: “My daughter did it”. Oh how they sighed!
Mother & Daughter Feet: Not big feet and little feet anymore! Her feet are definitely catching up!
Getting my feet wet.
Rainbow feet scudding through white powder.
As you can see, the shoes came off. I rolled up my cuffs and at least got my feet wet. While there were people swimming, it was still a bit cold for us. I managed to brave getting my feet wet and that was about it. Yet, I still have fun!
Have you ever been to Byron Bay? Any stories to share?
Take care and I hope you’re having a great week!
xx Rowena
PS: I just strayed across this excellent post about existence versus truly living, which contrasts free-range and battery hens. A great read: http://betterlifecoachingblog.com/2015/10/16/free-range-hens-a-story-about-existing-or-living/
I watch the tourist bride & groom
snap-frozen for the camera.
Smiling in the shadow of
its towering silhouette.
Guardian of ships,
she’s now fully automated.
The lighthouse keeper
is long gone.
Thrown into the spotlight,
the tourist bride & groom
try on their celebrity smiles:
so awkward,
almost robotic.
Their performance unrehearsed,
bride and groom for one day.
Married for a life time.
Or, maybe not.
An Easterly wind blows
straight in my face.
So close
that I can almost smell its breath.
It slaps me hard on both cheeks,
like a frozen fish.
If I were a kite,
I would fly!
The bride & groom who inspired this poem were posing for photos from this lookout. Providing a stunning ocean backdrop, they also balanced precariously above these steep, jagged plunge into the rough surf.
Tourist bride & groom
perched so precariously
on the edge of the abyss,
the lookout giving way to the sea.
Waves gnashing their teeth
against the rocks.
Shipwrecks, disaster
are no stranger to these
savage, unforgiving shores…
a watery grave.
Following a change in the guard,
a Northerly blows through
with a vengeance,
seizing her bridal veil
too fast for a grasping hand
to intervene.
Pirouetting in slow motion
through the air with such grace,
almost Swan Lake,
it comes to rest in the surf
where there is no peace.
Just the savagery of the brutal sea.
She stares through tears
at her diamond ring,
which has suddenly lost
so much of its sparkle.
It might just be chance
but deep in her heart
she fears the winds of fate
have spoken.
The rocks at the base of the lookout.
How can it be
that even our loftiest dreams
can crash so quickly,
broken by the waves?
Those waves
which never, ever
pause to stop.
The waves pounding the shore….Byron Bay Lighthouse.
Byron Bay Lighthouse September 2015.
I started writing this poem while watching a Japanese bride and groom posing for their wedding photos at the lookout. Geoff and the kids were walking down to signposted Most Easterly Point in Australia and onto the beach down below, which was too much of a walk for me. They also had the camera. They were gone for about an hour, giving me plenty of time to watch and absorb the waves ferociously crashing on the waves down below. You really feel the strength and power of the mighty Pacific Ocean here and the waves are huge, powerful, incredibly beautiful but also unforgiving.
I ended up watching this bride and groom posing for their photos for some time. They clearly weren’t feeling comfortable, like so many bride and grooms. They spend there big day being photo models without any preparation or training. Being an extrovert myself, I’ve always loved having my photo taken and have my photo face. People tell me that I look a lot better in photos. However, that didn’t mean I didn’t feel some compassion for this poor bride and groom being tortured by their photographer.
I was standing quite a distance away and from where I was standing, I saw most of the steep escarpment behind them, which became quite an allegoryt for the ruggedness of real life after the wedding is over. Sure, it’s not all hard work but it’s not a fairytale wrapped up in lace and rose petals either.
The bride’s veil didn’t fly away but I could help imagining how that would look with the veil leaping over the edge and spiralling towards its death in the surf.
How would you feel as a bride if your veil flew away like that? I couldn’t help but feel a little superstitious, despite my Christian beliefs. Brides can be very anxious creatures and any sign of trouble becomes magnified and instantly catastrophised.
However, my husband, who is more pragmatic, said what would it matter if the veil flew away after the wedding? It’s done its job.
Anyway, any insights would be much appreciated.Do you have any wedding disasters to share?
xx Rowena
The Photographer Bride: taking photos at my own wedding. Totally incorrigible.
Here’s Bilbo inspecting the sand erosion on our morning walk at Ettalong Beach. The waves had created a series of striking cliffs.
xx Rowena
