Monga

2014, collected tree branch, decomposed plant dyed fabric, blue ink.

Sitting by a creek in a place called Monga. Watching my thoughts and contemplating them, as they came and went, just as the creek flows.

'Interconnectedness of all beings,

from the spirals and foundations of all life,

the DNA structures threading and weaving,

vines wrapped around other neighboring trees,

spirals in the current of water,

the fronze of the tree fern,

figs wrapping and engulfing,

Death and Life.

From decay comes richness,

the music of water,

constant moments,

memories,

times flowing by,

movement of all things,

memories of times past,

acknowledging and letting go.

A time of contemplation,

of prayer and thanks,

without time there would nothing,

tragic beauty,

dense growth,

air and thoughts,

allowing space for processes of growth and healing,

a slowing down of mind.

The death of a tree,

the birth of another,

the micro organisms,

fungi, moss,

using this ancient giant symbiosis,

its nutrients,

as existence,

transformed into another organism,

holding those memories,

that past life and existence,

as old as time.

This place holds my weight,

my thoughts,

memories.

The stream,

a continual reminder of life's flow,

one moment after the next.

Its not possible to hold this moment,

to capture and hold this feeling,

containing this water in a bottle,

will contain merely one piece.

Though this is truth.

Not one moment can be held onto,

experience and memories can be created,

to foster worlds and create importance,

to prayer and appreciate,

to allow space for thought,

to process,

and to let it be carried down the stream,

allowing new and inevitable times and weight to begin and cycle once again.

J x'