Contemplations: October 6 2023

 

Hospital sleeping quarters.

I place my stethoscope and pager on the night stand. Check the phone receiver is on the hook. Carefully place my watch beside the phone; I’ll need to put it on if I’m called to see a patient during the night. Weariness sets in, comforting and soothing as a warm bath. It seeps into my mind and body, exhausted after rushing, thinking, stressing over the last 20 hours of my shift. Weariness caresses me, soaks my aching muscles, quietens my racing thoughts, ebbs and ebbs and floods and drowns and carries me deep into back oblivion. And in this tranquil darkness I am gone, resting, restoring, peaceful.

* * *

Days of our Lives:

 Some days are like terrible storms, with ferocious winds screaming down alleyways, ripping roofs from buildings, dragging giant trees out by their roots, and filling the world with danger, destruction, death; those are the days when we fail exams, when we lose friends and loved ones, when our trust and faith are betrayed. 

 Some days are bleak and cold, with heavy fog and darkness shrouding the world around us, obscuring our way forward, isolating us from others; those are the days when we feel completely bored in our job, when the drudgery and duty of life seems never-ending, when we feel lonely, abandoned, forgotten by friends and colleagues. 

 But there are days when the sun shines so brightly, when the sky is scraped clear and blue, when spring flowers fill the air with pungent fragrances and warm breezes caress our skin and carry with them the happy sounds of children playing, music, and laughter. Those are the days when we’re excited and triumphant in our work projects, when our friends and family gather near to have fun and support us, when life surprises us with amazing twists and turns we could never have dreamed possible. 

 During the days of our lives, we can only appreciate the sunshine if we we’ve also experienced the storms and darkness. The shadows are as important as the light – and they bring with them the lessons that give us wisdom. But the light is only ever days away, waiting on our calendars to warm our hearts, shine our way forward, and give us hope to carry on.

* * *

An Evening Festival.

We stroll along the sinuous gravel path, on our way to the festival. The lake is black-glass beside us, with glimmering white orbs of light mirroring the electric lanterns dotting the park. A cool breeze rustles the few remaining leaves clinging to otherwise barren branches, sending some tumbling to the ground and scattering them like confetti across the dark lawns and onto the water. A solitary row boat, moored near a small jetty, rocks to and fro, sleeping with the rest of the gardens after a long day. In waves of sound, muted voices and laughter reach us and beckon us forward. These sounds of revelry are accompanied by mouth-watering aromas of cooking meat, buttered popcorn, and donuts - reminding us that it’s after six o’clock and we haven’t yet had tea. We sally forth towards the city lights, an ersatz dawn superimposed with flashing neon coloured lights and cheerful music from a jazz band, setting a festive tone and soundtrack for the evening. We leave the park, after crossing a pretty stone bridge nested amongst silhouetted tree sculptures, which reach up to the starblown sky, and we join the crowds on the footpath.

The contrast between city and park could not be more stark; but to know one allows appreciation of the other.

* * *