Contemplations: October 5 2023

 

Contemplations: October 5^th 2023

Days of Sunshine

1. I think there are times, in the sunshine-and-darkness of life, when it seems that life is purely sunshine, when memories of darker times evaporate in the brightness and warmth of shining days. That’s how it felt recently, when my family and I picnicked in the Mt Lofty Ranges. With a basket of sandwiches and cakes carried on my arm, a thermos of hot coffee and bottles of cold lemonade and coke juggled by the others, along with a large picnic rug - we strolled laughing and talking as we wandered in the shade under a dense leafy canopy, over a verdant flowered grass-carpet. In that moment, it felt like we’d wandered onto a stage set for the final scene of a drama - the happily-ever-after denouement, when the climax of problems are over and all is finally right with the world; our words were the script of triumphant heroes enjoying peace and happiness after a long difficult journey. It was as if the words of poets, the songs of musicians, the dazzling colours of artists were conjured all at once into our own lives, and we remembered that life can be beautiful. Despite all the difficulties and dramas - sometimes life is simply beautiful.

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Christmas traditions

2. All cultures have their traditional celebrations; including the West. But, some of these celebrations are hewn from the very best of human principles; especially Christmas. Not simply the modern version of this celebration ... but behind all the expensive gifts, behind the tinsel and decorations, behind the parties and banquet feasts – there’s a deeper purpose and meaning to each of these activities, that is: supporting and caring for those in need; remembering peace and goodwill to our fellow men; finding joy and love even in the coldest, darkest and most difficult days of our lives (Christmas is traditionally and symbolically celebrated just after the winter solstice).

Some traditions, including Christmas, continue over millennia because our ancestors recognised their inherent value and the truth of which they remind to us.

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A cold night in the city

3. Striding and striding along North Terrace, my feet click, clack on the grey tendrils of pavement. Alone. Darkness fills the wintry night, punctuated at intervals by cones of warm creamy light streaming from the streetlights high above, up among the black skeletal branches of oaks. Cars zoom by in clusters, dammed and released by distant traffic lights, streaming rivulets of white and red light in both directions at my side. A cold wind rustles leaves in the gutter; it whips my hair and face like a splash of icy water. I sally forth. Alone. Mindful of being alone in this wintry scene. I pass small clusters of people, remnants of the city’s workday crowds; they huddle in small groups, talking in low inaudible voices which quickly dissolve into the night. Or they scatter here and there, like billiard balls on an inky-grey pool-table … click clack they march away, disappearing into black pockets of darkness.

Cold gnaws at my finger tips, and I sink my gloved hands deep into my coat pockets. I pull my scarf up high on my neck. I’m tired. I want to go home to my warm house, to my brightly lit study, to my delicious books and the internet. But I can’t. My 14 year old son is playing piano at the University Conservatorium and I must wait for him for two hours. I’ll buy him a cake, to eat after his jazz band rehearsal, to enjoy on the ride home - as we chat about the our day, life, the universe, everything - in the comfort of my warm car.

But that will be some time from now. For now, I’ll do what I do every Tuesday night: I’ll find a cafe to drink coffee and sit at a table surrounded by chatting, laughing strangers enjoying their night out; I’ll read my newspaper, then start another novel; and as the minutes then hours tick by, I’ll imagine my son, so happy creating music with his band, out beyond the maze of city streets.

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