Skip to main content

Nothing is more desirable than to be released from an affliction, but nothing is more frightening than to be divested of a crutch.


Sitting on the dock of the bay. Geilston Bay, October 2011.

Theme Thursday already?

TREASURE is - in my opinion - much like 'beauty': very much in the eye of the beholder. I have railed before [and before and before and before] against the conflation of stuff with worth.

A case in point: while a small allotrope of carbon in which the carbon atoms are arranged in a variation of a face-centered cubic crystal structure may well have a market value of X dollars/ rand/ euros/ baht/ bolívars/ dồngs/ kepings etc etc etc, it does not particularly appeal to me!

[Well, the market value appeals in a fiscal sense; but that is more about the potential TREASUREs that might be secured through liquefying the asset. In and of itself, the tightly-packed allotrope of carbon atoms is neither here nor there.]


Silence is TREASURE. An intense blue sky on a crisp Spring morning is TREASURE. A kiss and a cuddle when one gets home is TREASURE. The new Grand Theft Auto is TREASURE. Sitting at the end of a pier with feet dangling in the water, an icy pole in hand as the sun sinks into the ocean and the colours slowly bleed into each other is a supreme form of TREASURE.

You see, TREASURE is solely about the worth that we attach to something. The market values one thing, I’d like to think that my valuations is a little more personal, a little more exclusive.

Comments

Roddy said…
You have an entire treasure trove right before my eyes. Your family! Less you of course.
Brian Miller said…
you know there are def things that may hold no material value that are my greatest treasures...
Mrsupole said…
Totally true in that a Treasure is in the eye of the beholder or as they say, one man's trash is another man's treasure.

Stuff can be replaced, well for the most part, but people and living creatures are a one of a kind treasure. Things acquired through the blood of others is not worth anything in true value, but then one does not want to demean those whose blood was lost to the things. Just a very sad way for anyone to get something. We can only hope that things will improve with knowledge.

God bless.
great shot! marvelous sky :)
Well said, well put. Well taken. Happy TT. -J
Lolamouse said…
For me, it's not a treasure unless there is an emotional attachment. Objects can be treasures if they hold an emotional value for me. Monetary value has little or nothing to do with what I treasure. Thoughtful piece.
RLM Cooper said…
LOVE this post - it fits right in with my own. Gorgeous photo, too!
Betsy Brock said…
Perfect. I totally agree. The greatest treasures have no monetary value and yet are priceless. :)

And..I want to see one of your treasure maps!
Tash said…
I treasure your insight.
Kris McCracken said…
Roddy, too right.

Brian, agreed!

Mrsupole, stuff is just stuff and treasure is in the eye of the beholder (as you say). It's be a boring place if we all wanted the same thing.

Tina, it was nice and warm too.

H-H, cheers!

Lolamouse, too true.

AngleMay, great minds...

Betsy, I'll get cracking.

Tash, [blushes].
4U2 said…
Totally agree with you, my most precious treasure is my family. Invaluable!
Have a nice weekend!
Anonymous said…
Wonderful treasures within your grasp!! Thank you for sharing!!
true,

everyone has a definition of what is treasure.

lovely take on it.

Popular posts from this blog

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral