Books

‘Journey of Dreams’ is a collection of 8 poems and prose that tell a personal tale of chasing dreams.

It begins in the early 90’s shortly after my first solo exhibition, my childhood dream that didn’t have a fairy tale ending, even though it was hailed as a great success. I broke even and decided to do the sensible thing and stick with the day job. I soon took a promotional move within the world of medical photography and illustration and decided to shelve my creative work for the future.

I was now adrift without a dream, until a couple of years later when in the Pyrenees my partner and I had a chance conversation with a Welsh couple, whilst washing up in a campsite. They were retired and had been chasing the sun in their motorhome, while we had been walking in the national parks. We were jealous of them for the time they had and they were envious of us as for they no longer had their fitness. The seed of a dream was sown, if ever we had the opportunity to buy a motorhome while we still had our health, we must.

The Seed of a Dream

Seeds are sown, deep in the furrows,

hidden beneath the peaks.

Where conversations are carefree

though evenings can be dreich.

Swapping stories of our travels,

is when the seed is sown.

To the sound of washing cutlery

while soapy suds are blown.

For them it is the here and now,

for us a dream to grow.

Live the moment and chase the sun,

cherish the seed to sow.

A conversation had by chance,

nurtures the seedling dream.

For years to come when times are tough,

it’s something to redeem.

Our lives became absorbed by work and as digital imaging began to impact on my profession, it also rekindled my enthusiasm for my personal work and for a while the two worked together in tandem, bolstering each other. Things were going well, another exhibition and another promotional move. Then out of the blue we had a redundancy, suddenly our dream could possibly become a reality. We spent two years searching for our perfect motorhome, once bought it sat on the driveway, too tired at weekends to go anywhere.

Gradually and without noticing, I was spending less time on my own photography, as the pressure at work was slowly building and any creative ideas were not forthcoming.

Photographer’s Block

The screen is blank, waiting for a narrative,

with images and stories to flow.

They swirl and dance as I nourish and nurture,

with timely care they’ll begin to grow.

Conditions change with slow insidious drips,

it’s hard to notice and then I’m there.

The stream of ideas that once ebbed and flowed,

is now a pool reflecting despair.

An uncontrollable shroud slowly descends,

tales solidify, frozen by stress.

Stories shiver with the imbalance of life,

feeding chaos and growing distress.

The screen is still blank, the ideas are now numb,

trapped within the photographer’s block.

How to thaw the creative stream,

feel the flow as images unlock?

Eventually everything came to a climax during the winter of 2010/11, when we were snowed in. I could do very little from home and unfortunately someone complained. There is only so much that can be done over the phone so I decided I needed to be at work and made the treacherous journey in, to great protestations from my other half. This was when I realised that I was becoming someone I didn’t want to be and for what? It was time to leave.

Time to Leave

It comes silently during the night,

gently falling, muffling sounds.

In the morning the roads are smothered,

hidden beneath sculptured mounds.

First it’s fun like a fresh coat of paint,

soon it sets in, flake after flake.

Shovelling begins, Monday is close

but it’s no use, there isn't a break.

Nothing is moving we’re all snowed in

but for some this isn't enough.

“We managed to get in so should you,”

carry on digging it's tough!

The car slithers across hard packed roads,

to reach a place to see who’s there.

Deal with the complaint so life moves on,

it’s time to leave while I still care.

I handed in my notice and 3 hectic months later I left. We made our plans. If we brushed up on our skiing technique we could freelance as ski guides and spend our winters in the Alps and in the summer I would work on my photography, building a portfolio and eventually exhibiting. Our dream was coming true and my emotions swung from sheer excitement to total fear. What would happen if it didn’t work out, had I burnt my bridges?

Burning Bridges or Opening Doors ?

The seed of a dream continues to grow,

feeding from all the chaos around.

That chance conversation some years ago,

gives ambition a chance to gain ground.

I nurture my dream, the dream nurtures me,

I give my notice, the deed is done.

It’s time for leaving and stop pretending

to be someone I could not become.

I can not believe the sense of relief,

that life and a dream might become one.

Or am I on a bridge that is burning,

and my doubts have been right all along?

Fling open the doors, it’s time to find out,

stop standing around waiting to burn.

Grab every last doubt and cast them aside,

making the leap to begin to learn.

In the December we headed to the southern French Alps for what turned out to be one of the coldest winters in Europe for years but first we had the storms. We were battered by winds and snow, then the continuous cold came, the heater struggled and very rarely had enough battery power to last the night. Our practice sessions at Glenshee did nothing to prepare us for the sense of vulnerability, we were no longer a couple of hours away from a warm house. The challenges of living in a metal box at altitude in a car park are many and the simplest of things become a joy to achieve.

Cocooned Beneath the Storm

Back to the mountains where it all began,

chasing the snow in our perfect home.

Where our plans can alter amongst the peaks

and weather watching is how we roam.

Sun sets, then dusk descends, snow starts to fall,

we watch enthralled by its changing pace.

As the winds pick up it dances and swirls, 

trees sway moving in time to the bass.

The rhythm speeds up, the blizzards arrive,

howling all night and tearing down trees.

We are blown like the snow from side to side,

by morning it's calm, a gentle breeze.

Snow drifts thick and deep glisten in the sun,

moulded and shaped by the mighty storm.

Excited within our cosy cocoon,

to explore a landscape newly born.

The ski lessons were equally demanding, from perfecting technique on piste to the test of off piste in no fall zones, which is an area where falling will likely lead to serious injury. The emotions ranged from total excitement to terrified but there was a lasting philosophy ‘finding your centre’.

At the beginning of a season find a practice slope and spend the day skiing the same run, to reconnect to the centre of you skis. Use your toes and feet to feel the slope, your knees and legs to absorb the unexpected and be balanced from your centre. Once achieved you’ll be able to deal with all eventualities that the terrain may throw at you. Our time in the Alps allowed us to learn how to find our centres, on the slopes and off.

Finding Your Centre

To glide gracefully across the snow,

finding simple fluid rhythms.

Is the dream of all upon the slopes,

harmony in peak conditions.

Feeling the ice scrape beneath your feet,

tune in sensitive to your flow.

Ready prepared for the unforeseen,

quickly you regain your tempo.

Searching for the centre of your skis,

unlocks the rhythm of the snow.

Balanced for the hidden lumps and bumps,

raises your speed and off you go. 

Adding a no fall zone to the beat,

is a crotchet one too many.

Extreme living is a solo piece,

personal not ten a penny.

 Our confidence grew with the many predicaments we experienced and our life in the van began to revolve around simple basic routines. As we settled into our daily pattern ideas for images began to emerge, my inspirational note book was dusted down and I began to scribble away. I still remember the feeling as I noted my first idea down, a tingling in my toes of excitement at the thought of working on the imagery.

Resurgence

Swooping and diving amongst the peaks,

I feel the rhythm seeping back.

The thrill of the speed beneath my feet,

revives the spirit that I’ve lacked.

As tensions ebb, vigour resurges,

inspired by a magical scene.

Gurgling burns and chattering waters,

laugh at the problems that have been.

Tranquillity settles as dreams grow,

nourished by the sun's warm caress.

Melting icicles begin to drip,

ideas flow that I won't suppress.

From deep within narratives emerge,

gaining in strength with the snow melt.

Images sparkle in the sun light,

toes tingle as stories are felt. 

We discovered that extreme living and extreme skiing wasn’t for us but our compromise has been and is fantastic, the result of which you’re reading.

There is a very fine line between living a dream and surviving a nightmare and it’s a leap of faith discovering where your line is but be prepared for the line to move!

Journey of Dreams

Jump aboard, the journey of dreams,

your destination is aspiration.

Come prepared to be astounded,

buy your ticket with anticipation.

Take that leap and head for the clouds,

to the unknown, discover beyond.

Embrace the storms that come along,

they fuel the engine as you respond.

There isn’t a time of arrival,

an adventure to relish as you go!

Stoke the boiler with all you see,

determination navigates the flow.

Slow the train down, to disembark,

hop back on when the spirit is willing.

It’s your time table, tailor made,

to the places where dreams are fulfilling.