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Dust to dust

The liturgy for the defunct bobbed up in my awareness when I wandered through the Bathurst graveyard: ‘and let light perpetual shine upon them’.

I like taking photos in cemeteries.

This one I took on my daily get-da-suga-under-control walk on a cool autumn morning. The rays of the sun had just burnt off the remnants of the fog. It was a beautiful day.

When I return to dust, I don’t want to be pinned down by tonnes of earth, steel and concrete. I will be that photon of light, streaming from the sun, dancing through the grating.

For I am Dutch, and in my language dust, stof, has two meanings. As well as denoting that which covers the furniture in a fine layer in which I like to write rude words, stof also means matter. It is a Physics term.

The entire space/time universe is stof which at it’s core is energy, appearance notwithstanding. Galaxies, black holes, space, earth, you and I, all stof.

In English we say stuff.

I think identifying with one’s stuff is much more fun, and liberating, than constraining one’s self to a conceptual I-dentity. Which is merely an epiphenomenon of stuff.

And dies.

Stuff doesn’t.

 

 

 

About the author Rien

dutch by birth 🇳🇱 | australian by choice 🇦🇺 | type 1 diabetic 💉 | starchivore 🥔 | married ❤️⚭ | grandfather 👴🏻 | fujifilm photographer 📷 | boat builder and sailor ⛵️ | seeker no more 🚫📖

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2 Comments

  1. Another incredible shot Rien, just amazing.

    Like

    Reply

  2. Always an interesting perspective.

    Like

    Reply

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