Time for change
Sunday serenity disrupted:
“Zee-earning” dirt bikes,
Mowers rattle ‘n’ roar,
Whipper snippers “Buzz-err-err-zeeping”,
Avian cacophony; “chit chat,” “caw,” “screech,” “tweet tweet tweeting,” and
Insane, incessant insects thrumming.
Planning. Packing. Downsizing.
Time waits for no one.
Calm restored-
This view’s days are numbered.
Midas’ late afternoon light
Gilds the garden,
Revealing lush, emerald vibrance.
Warmth wanes; wakening, Winter wins-
Heralding pastures new.
Taken from footbridge, Morningside train station.
Sun setting across the Brisbane River, viewed from Brew Dog Tap Room, Murarrie, Queensland, Australia.
I worked at the University of Technology Sydney (UTS) for around eleven and a half years. During that time, I learned a lot about myself, the institution’s operations from faculty and central student administration perspectives, and the higher education sector.
It holds a special place in my memories, as the University took a chance on someone, a migrant, looking to change career direction.
The serenity of a Winter sunset, reflected in one of it’s buildings contrasted against the bustle of Broadway mirrors my mind as our move interstate looms.
Usually six stacked shadows precede my path on the final leg of my journey home.
Last night, the path was dimly lit. Filtered light finding it’s way through surrounding vegetation on the boundary of the adjacent Fort Street High School.
The apex of the bridge provided two spotlights; nowhere near enough to light the serpentine structure.
The crossing over the Parramatta Road is usually well illuminated from six floodlights mounted high up on the side of the orange Kennards Self Storage building.
Is this a sign?
Waning Gibbous Moon 99%, perfect for letting go. The decision has been made, we are moving to Brisbane; my last day of work at UNSW is 31st August 2018. Today, I have drafted my first application for a new role. Aiming to shift my career focus, I am looking at school manager positions in universities.
925 km or 575 miles north.
Excitement and trepidation reign in our house, this weekend.
In the cool darkness of morning, just before awaking. The intertwined tentacles of dreams slowly slipped away. Leaving behind memories of the words “it’s impossible”
My subconscious had melded the lyrics and melody of two songs. Perhaps it is the distinctive delivery by Dame Shirley Bassey that assisted this mind mix.
I remember a series of lines starting with “It’s impossible to dah dah dah” to the tune of “Never, Never, Never”.
My attempts to recreate the conglomeration yields a most unsatisfactory product. Looking something like the following:
It’s impossible to tell the sun to leave the sky
It’s impossible to ask a baby not to cry
It’s impossible to keep the ocean from rushin’ on the shore
It’s impossible for me to not ask for more
It’s impossible to stop the stars from shining high above
It’s impossible to live without your love
Winter is the only time I can sit in the Australian sun without burning.
On Thursday, I waited for a colleague to arrive, jacket buttoned up, seeking warmth from my coffee cup. I would rather have been sitting in the shade of a tree, on a hot day.
An unusually warm Autumn has made way for a chilly, bleak Winter.
A long Saturday lunch spent listening to the Winter breeze rustling through the leafy trees.
Getting the table ready for a Winter feast.
theINFP 