These are all images from the genius American photographer and filmmaker Robert Frank. I found out that he lived in the tiny town of Mabou, Nova Scotia on Cape Breton Island for a time (thanks Leah!). I was in Mabou earlier this month. I stood on one of the most beautiful beaches, and the only thing I could hear was the crash of the waves and the wind whipping past my ears. This was a beach fully exposed. The sun was brilliant that day. The beauty was not lost on me at all there.
These images of his speak to where I'm at right now. Each of them, in their own way, remind me of the strangeness that seems to always accompany travelling - for a longer stretch of time. A paradox always exists when you are constantly on the move - there is the wonder and energy that comes with discovering new places and people, and there is the constant letting go that occurs as you move on to your next destination. Always the good-byes. And then the hello's. And then the good-byes etc
You receive. You let go. You receive. You let go....
I feel lucky this time as I've had a wonderful home base to push out from, complete with a dear old friend, and now new friends. And even though I'll be away for almost another month, I already feel the anticipation of saying goodbye....I seem to always feel it keenly before the fact! This has to be a good thing since life is so full of good-byes. Traveling is good training in living them out as well as possible. Along with the hello's.
I look out onto a grey and rainy day in New Brunswick. The usually slow Cocagne river is moving with uncharacteristic speed. It's the first day of rain out here in awhile, and I wonder if this marks the creeping entrance of fall. I guess we'll see.
Often I wish life could be like this all the time. Always in motion. Always moving. Always involved in the exciting process of discovery. Always meeting someone new. Always being confronted with new ideas - with new ways of being. Always being shocked out of habitual patterns of living and thinking into new, spacious ones. These are the things I thrive on. The thought of coming back "home" which is not really any kind of real home to me at all outside of family, is a daunting and sad thought. Where the hell is my home anyway? The truth is I am pretty homeless right now. And from where I sit right now there is something really freeing about that.
Some of us are just built for motion.
That's all for now.