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Name: Tim Parish

Bio: how do we plant roots and stretch wings at the same time?

Photos: verb's photo libraries

Everything is burning ( 21st Aug, 2009 )
Arnhem Journey ( 30th Oct, 2008 )
The City of Gods and Windows ( 23rd Sep, 2008 )
The Rainbow Conspiracy ( 20th Mar, 2008 )
Shedding Skins ( 29th Feb, 2008 )
Saturns Return ( 24th Feb, 2008 )
Sex and the Mega City ( 19th Nov, 2007 )
the floating world ( 17th Sep, 2007 )
Excess Baggage ( 15th Sep, 2007 )
The Global Marketplace part 4 ( 20th Aug, 2007 )
Three Moons ( 19th Aug, 2007 )
Brave New Babylon ( 9th Aug, 2007 )
The Global Marketplace 3 - Tobacconista ( 9th Jun, 2007 )
The Middle Kingdom ( 8th Jun, 2007 )
Animism ( 21st May, 2007 )
Instant Illiteracy ( 15th May, 2007 )
The Global Marketplace part 2 ( 11th May, 2007 )
Lets Not Talk About Politics ( 8th May, 2007 )
Crumbling Empires ( 26th Apr, 2007 )
The Global Marketplace ( 17th Apr, 2007 )
Hot Sex and Cold Feet ( 12th Apr, 2007 )
Always Waking  ( 5th Apr, 2007 )
The Mystery of Daybreak ( 21st Feb, 2007 )
the city which became colourblind ( 30th Jan, 2007 )
Castles in the Sand ( 21st Jan, 2007 )
The Man From Seoul ( 13th Jan, 2007 )
The Bar at the End of the World ( 11th Jan, 2007 )
Pussy Galore ( 5th Jan, 2007 )
Chased by Stray Thoughts ( 4th Jan, 2007 )
Samsara and Nirvana ( 2nd Jan, 2007 )
Interzone ( 30th Dec, 2006 )
the city at the end of the world ( 19th Dec, 2006 )
a moment in reflection ( 25th Jul, 2006 )
Stuart Highway Songline part 3 ( 13th Jun, 2006 )
The Commonwealth Game ( 8th Jun, 2006 )
The Stuart Highway Songline ( 21st May, 2006 )
Personal Journalist ( 21st Mar, 2006 )
The Strawberry Project ( 20th Mar, 2006 )
101 year old eyes ( 12th Mar, 2006 )
59% battery ( 12th Mar, 2006 )
ABRACADABRA ( 11th Jan, 2006 )
Our Nations Capital ( 30th Dec, 2005 )
Invisible in the City ( 13th Dec, 2005 )
Life at Sunrise.. ( 12th Dec, 2005 )
The Meditation of the Open Road ( 8th Dec, 2005 )
East Coast Tour Diary ( 6th Dec, 2005 )
Fear and Loathing in Brisvegas ( 7th Oct, 2005 )
Booty Dancing and Petroleum Dreaming ( 23rd Sep, 2005 )
Escape! ( 9th Sep, 2005 )
Natural Intelligence. ( 8th Sep, 2005 )
Landscapes of Flesh ( 16th Aug, 2005 )
same lifestyle, different scenery.. ( 9th Aug, 2005 )
three degrees of separation ( 27th Jul, 2005 )
migrating north for the winter ( 21st Jul, 2005 )
drinking in the multitude ( 11th Jul, 2005 )
finding treasure ( 3rd Jul, 2005 )
journeys inward ( 2nd Jul, 2005 )
exploring the playground ( 26th Apr, 2005 )
art crawling through the cracks ( 25th Apr, 2005 )
multinational dreaming ( 5th Apr, 2005 )
no ticket to ride ( 4th Apr, 2005 )
another civilisation ( 30th Mar, 2005 )
everyday journeys.. ( 21st Mar, 2005 )
crossing invisible lines ( 16th Mar, 2005 )
Celebrate Revolution ( 16th Feb, 2005 )
a sort of homecoming ( 8th Feb, 2005 )
salemat jalan ( 24th Jan, 2005 )

Everything is burning

Everything is burning around us, but tonight the fire is a gentle companion to our journey. Smoke rises in soft pillows over the horizon of the hill as we light our campfire. the setting sun lights the sky in tides of purple and orange, flat blankets of the disappearing bush floating into space. We are cooking kangaroo and sweet potato on the settling coals as the day dissolves into night, settling into our stories around another flame. The annual dry season burn off flavors the air a musty scent. all the firemen here are used to setting fires as much as putting them out. They understand the fire has uses. It is their ally more than an enemy, because they know how to control it's power. Down the side of the mountain long trails burn for hours. From a distance, they looking like lava flows from a volcano. their crackling ambience sets the night's tempo. Our voices are her melody.

A few months ago we watched as the forests of Victoria burnt all around us, out of control. We were at a bush festival in the Ottways when we heard the news, and it was only luck that the flames or arson that birthed the disaster stayed on the north east. Now they call it Black Saturday, and it's memory is burnt into the hearts of every Victorian, trying to figure out what we could do to tame this demon. In a few months I will be at the Burning Man. Watching them burn time as the world tree burns like some pagan sacrifice of the future to live the present to it's fullest, or perhaps to burn the past into memory so that we may grow fresh sprouts from the desert that was.

"Everyone is burning" the Buddha once said of the human race; burning with desire, with suffering that it causes. Behind me I catch sight of a long burning shooting star as it descends straight down toward the earth. The rock stars of another age just past burnt out like shooting stars, Morrison, Joplin, Hendrix, and perhaps even Cobain in the hangover of punks grunge afterculture. The mythic self destruction of the modern world encapsulated in the roman candle celebrity of its youth. Western culture burning the world's resources ever since the dawn of the industrial era, forcing the rest of the planet into the same template through imperialism, globalisation, or seduction of capital. Were all in the same boat now, and they keep telling us it's running out of steam to keep burning, but that the pollution is suffocating us at the same time. What else is there to do but change course?

I see a flurry of embers rise from the bushfire that keeps slowly getting closer. They scatter in every direction, manifesting the wind, lighitng the outstretched arms of the Eucalypt that stands above with little fear. He has seen their kind before. They will pass, and he will scar only for one season before his skin grows back. And I wonder if this brash modern people are the same, burning the ancient people of this land with such brilliant abandon, but burning out like the gods of rock and fading into the sky like spaceships aborting the earth, only to realise they must land eventually. The atmosphere is limbo. Gravity, a fundamental law of thermodynamics, the binary sister to entropy. Together they pull us apart and bring us back together again. Expand our minds with explosive consciousness, and ground us with the reality of mass. Birth us with fire burning, burning bright as a supernova only to implode within it's own weight and become another black hole for new galaxies to pivot around.

Fading from view over the horizon another God of past culture's burns a seemingly endless nuclear combustion. Clever kids of that same rock age have learnt to catch it's winds in their solar flowers. These are not burning souls, these are flower children. Breathing out oxygen that will feed another kind of flame, somewhere in the future that we all know is inevitable.

But today I am thinking of this eternal moment. How each of us contain a flame within us, how each culture is sparked bv the same soulful ignition. That some cultures burn fast and fall to the towering inferno of their own babylon, and others learn to live with the fire and tame it to lesson the damage when it eventually burns to the ground. Some used it to hunt, like the First Australians. The seeds of native plants are germinated in this fire, and in this act the ecology becomes symbiotically entwined with the human appetite. the fire in us can consume us, like the rage of jealousy. Collectively our culture can burn black sundays across the world, roaring with the viscous abandon of a juggernaut out of control. Or it can be a gentle campfire, where travellers sit and share tales, illuminated by the kind warmth of the flickering curve of flame.

At the heart of the universe, I see an engine that never ceases to spin. It is the philosophers stone. A heart that beats with the orgasm of the big bang. This is at once the spark of all existence and the holy fire that allows us to becomes ashes once our body has ceased to oxygenate this heartbeat. The warmth in your smile. The embrace of every lovers passion. The tantric nature of DNA's spiral. All of the ten thousand things, burning, forever, as one.

Everyone is burning said the Buddha, and Everything is burning till the end of time, unless you jump ship, and rise to the space between, even if only briefly.
That is the way of our world. Ashes to ashes they say at ceremony, when your fire has burnt .
Ashes spread into the wind.
Let free.

Arnhem Journey
[ file under: Working Holiday? ]

Two weeks on the road, one troopy full of muso's, one troopy full of musical instruments, the Yolgnu-wise guide Gathaka, my beautiful lady Lulu and me filmin' it all. This is a short video clip I produced for Darwin band The Neo in July documenting our trip out to Yirrkala in far east Arnhem Land, Northern Territory where they recorded a series of young bands from the local school, played some amazing gigs and recorded new tracks at the Yothu Yindi Studios at Ski Beach.

It's really only a short preview of a larger doco still in progress, and a bigger story I'm gonna write about here soon. I promise. But for now, this'll have to do...


Neo - Arnhem Journey from Verb Studios on Vimeo.

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