Vulture

The rugged mountains of the Karoo, like sunbaked Gods standing guard whilst sitting on thrones of craved granite, onlookers to scenes of slaughter and peril. Heralding the winds, the almighty windpump winds; named in the hope of precious moisture to soften the arid bones, and parched lips. To cool the blazing anvil of the sunbaked ground, bubbling like a boiling cauldron, agitated by the thirsty winds. With the colours and smell of Alkebulan - the mother of mankind, so called after the mythical garden of Eden. Perhaps this was the beginning, it is certainly the end for many. Unique and blessed under the topaz blue sky, endless and voluminous, colours with feelings of substance and presence. A scene burnt into time and splintered into infinite parallel worlds. And from this backdrop, this inhospitable canvas, enters our hero, our angel of cleansing, rebirth and transformation.

The imposing windpump winds of the Karoo is calling us. “Let go my friend, let go!”

He whispers to you and encourages you with messages of colour whipped up by the windpump winds. It is time to let go of the past and embrace change. Our hero is the messenger of death and rebirth, our guide to a phase of life which is now closing and paving the way for renewal. Dust to dust – all go to one place. All are from dust, and to dust return. You are now a resource to nourish the planet, turn death into life by recycling your nutrients, your energy, your spirit. To become scattered on the wind, to be free. Our hero encourages patience, resourcefulness, and the ability to see beyond the surface. Helping us all to navigate the unthinkable, the impossible. For many there are dreaded fears of the unknown, the unexplained, but our hero confronts any difficult situations by extracting wisdom from the most challenging of experiences. Our hero wants the dying to join the sunbaked Gods, sit on their granite thrones, and understand the importance of dignity and the ability to accept help from others with kindness and respect.

Our hero is searching for another hero – maybe it’s you.

He is the glory, the magnificent, the living symbol. High in that topaz blue sky. Brown amongst brown, dusty beige amongst bone dry beige, with patient crown upon his head, only his black beady eyes like coins that will never be spent, counting the slow debts of the dry corpse of the earth.

Searching for the dying. Searching for the end of life.

The wind combs his ragged mane, each feather a fine sonnet of storms endured, as our hero hoovers upon thermals and updrafts, a shadow stitched to the seam of the sky.

Crimson upon black he proudly wears his coat of arms, his genius and talented artistry, his Aves ancestry is the prelude, the ancient herald, the ultimate harbinger of death. The final lance to penetrate and end life’s fragile bubble, no shield can stop his avaricious intent. His sharp eyes and probing beak could be the last visions you ever see on this plain.

Searching. Forever searching.

He reads the air in silent syllables, a scholar of endings, fluent in the language of decay. Predominately, smelling and feeling the canker colours of decay. On constant airborne alert, he seeks out the familiar prime colours of decomposition, colours of gray, brown, rust like colours, symbolic colours to worship a near to death circumstance. He seeks the smell of colours through his natural abilities, seeking life in the decomposing stage of late autumn or winter, nonetheless, seeking to honour a good death and its natural transformative processes.

Forever searching.

The end of life in this barren desert of the Karoo comes in many forms, but not one of the endings is missed by our hero, the transformer. High above he catches on the wind the sound of Hottentot herders as they whistle or speak in a sheep’s tongue to move the bedraggled herd. The responsive sheep click and fasten their gait, and a metallic sound crackles in the silent air. The sound made sharper as it breaks the endless peace of the parched wind, only watching as an apathetic witness to the passing of time, as the granules of sand replace the disappearing cloven feet of the herd.

Voices of jackals calling on the wind. The howls represent primordial memories; so loud to break and puncture the uneasy silence. The muzzled hush between howls, which seek their living rights to adapt and survive. Their ability to thrive in the Karoo’s unhealthy environment reflects their adaptability and resilience. An animal amongst other living beings with cunning and intelligence known for their resourcefulness, often seen as clever animals capable of outsmarting larger predators. But, in the eyes, the colour and smell of our hero, they are the same, all living creatures will die eventually. With fragility, the same perishability, all succumb to the final hours, the final heave of their lungs, before the rotting transformation process takes life to the size of a grain of sand. Lucky to have lived, the miracle of life, leaving behind memories, a spirit of oneself in another previous form.

The yelp of newborn cape leopard cub is caught on the wind, carried to our hero’s auriculares high in the heavens recognizing another arrival to the harsh world of the Karoo. Will the blind newborn cub survive alongside our winged hero? Only the counting of Karoo sunrises will determine the answer, as our hero counts his covert feathers on his outstretched wings, no one life has longevity guarantee. All life has one sure outcome – death, and the stage between the instant of birth and the moment of death is like counting covert feathers on our winged hero. A waste of time. Better to live a life for every moment, never counting each breath, this is a way to a life well lived.

Found.

Below are the dry flat plains exhaling suffocating heat, the scent of dust and surrender is rising. Then the colour of near death suddenly appears, and our hero descends without haste. A black flame folding into itself. Not a hunter, but keeper of nature’s balance and equilibrium, he lifts the weight of what has fallen, and in his solemn banquet the world learns how to begin again.