Tintern Abbey c. 1860 – 1900) Poulton Photography via State Library Victoria

What with one thing and another I have spent a lot of time just existing lately. By existing, I mean sitting passively through periods of time with next to no obvious brain activity.

I don’t mean to imply that this is a bad thing; in fact, it’s quite nice given how much crap typically goes on inside my head. It’s nice to have a bit of quiet!

In many ways, it’s meditative and I have been noticing things. Like:

• The smell of coffee.
• Silvereyes are more colourful than you think.
• Spinebills are here more often than not.
• The central heating vents sound clogged and probably need a professional vacuum to get the dog hair out.
• There are creatures in the attic, and I should see about evicting them.
• The pigeon hutch a few streets away must be empty, and I don’t know when the last time I saw a flight was.
• The Christmas puppy still howls all day.
• The sound of construction nearby does not stop. Nor does noise of traffic.

The odd thing about existing (in general) is that it’s a far more active state than you would otherwise think:

• struggling to exist
• hoping for better than this wretched existence
• working towards an uncertain future

It’s persisting, enduring, and even remaining. It has the permanence of reality. (Whatever that is). Like the ruins of Tintern Abbey in contrast with the fleeting memory of its photographer.

At some point, I’ll have to start moving again.  There are dishes and clothes to wash, floors to vacuum, and bins to empty.

But right now, existing is enough.