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Unanswered questions

3/17/2020

One of the joys of spending a few days with my daughter and her family is having time with a little boy who creeps into my bed for a cuddle and chat each morning. He knows the rule. Don’t wake grandma before the sun comes up. He’s very good at obeying that rule, except for the last morning I was there.

He crept in while it was still dark and gently nudged me awake. I reminded him of the rule and he said, “But grandma the night was so long and I couldn’t wait any longer”.

How could I say no to that sort of love? He cuddled down with me and we talked about life, about nature and about dreams. He’s a never-ending source of questions. Anything from, “You’ve been to the Colosseum haven’t you grandma?”
“Yes I have”
“What’s inside it?”
“Cats, lots and lots of cats”
Of course we talked about all the other things inside and why.

Not all his questions are as easy to answer. “Why doesn’t my friend like me anymore?”
I had no answer for that one except to admit honestly, “I don’t know”.

Our lives are full of questions without answers. Why did my friend’s teenage son commit suicide? Why cancer, Parkinson’s disease and a child's disability? Why COVID-19?

Madam Guyon put it this way,
"If knowing answers to life’s questions is absolutely necessary for you, then forget the journey. You will never make it, for life is a journey of unknowables, of unanswered questions, enigmas, incomprehensibles and most of all things unfair.”

Right now we are in unchartered territory with a multitude of questions about COVID-19 and where we are headed. Should I be preparing in case I need to shut myself away for two weeks or the government puts us into lockdown? Should I just get on with life as usual or should I be staying at home to reduce the possibility of infection and hopefully slow down the spread of the virus, as many doctors have advised?

We want answers but mostly we get confusing messages. No one really knows and that’s the hard part. I'm choosing self-isolation as an act of love and responsibility.

Quite a while ago, a wise man encouraged me to live life’s questions and not need to know the answers. There’s a peace that comes with that … an acceptance that allows me to live in the tension without being eaten away with fear or frustration, resentment or anger … without beating my fist against a closed door demanding entry.

Ken Gire puts it this way, “Someone once said that writing a novel is like driving at night with your headlights on – you can only see a few feet ahead, but you can make the entire trip that way. Living life is like that. Certainly a life of faith. Give me the grace, O Lord, to live such a life … and to realise that though the light given me is never as much as I would like, it is enough”.

This will be my last blog for a while as I take time out to work on other writing projects. Maybe I'll be moved to share a blog here and there but not on a weekly basis for the time being. Thank you so much for you continued support and encouragement.

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Ode to a toilet roll

3/10/2020

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It's more precious than gold it seems and as rare as diamonds in the rough. No longer a considered a staple, it's a luxury for the fastest and most affluent shopper.

Its price is escalating faster than the stock market and fetching upwards of $1000 per roll on eBay or maybe you’ll be fortunate enough to find a bargain on Facebook Marketplace or Gumtree. I saw it for as little as $60.

For the connoisseur there is super-absorbent, ultra-strong, extra-soft or multi-ply but I’m sure you’ll pay a premium for the privilege. And then there’s the recycled toilet paper that commands an even higher price, but then my grandmother had that idea long before it was invented.

At the bottom of her back steps, next to the washhouse was the outdoor loo. Its unlined timber walls were the perfect shelter for spiders and a conglomeration of other insects that lurked in dark corners. But the thing I hated most of all was the recycled toilet paper that hung from a nail hammered securely into one of the studs.

My grandmother cut squares from newspaper and telephone book pages and threaded them on string. It was neither super-absorbent nor extra-soft but it was ultra strong, exceedingly cost effective and decidedly unpleasant to use.

But maybe for those of us not fortunate enough to have a Ute full of toilet paper we might yet have to resort to my grandmother’s solution if people keep stockpiling.

It seems that toilet paper was a prized commodity back in the 6th century in China. It was first mass-produced there in the 14th century and modern commercial toilet paper originated in the 19th century, but who could have dreamed that in 2020 it could have become one of the most sought after commodities in the country.

And who could have imagined toilet paper’s capacity to unearth the true nature of man?

Just a few months ago we saw an outpouring of love and compassion for all those affected by the bushfires. Wallets were emptied, volunteers rushed to help and we all shared whatever we could. The crisis brought out the best of human nature.

Now in shopping aisles from Bourke to Bullaburra, Kiama to Katoomba and Riverwood to Rylstone, tempers flare, police have been called and a knife has even been pulled in the high stakes of this me-first pantomime.

Greed and disregard for others is strewn behind overladen trolleys in the rush to the register, while those who live from pay day to pay day, those living on pensions or unemployment benefits and those who’ve had to wait for a carer to take them on their fortnightly shop, stare helplessly at the empty shelves. Their need may be urgent but who gives them a second thought in the rush for serving self?

Like most of you, I stand aghast that such an ordinary, everyday, innocent thing as a toilet roll can lead people to resort to such levels of greed, anger and even violence. And the ironic thing is that it’s the irrational reaction to a crisis that doesn’t even exist. As far as I’m aware, COVID-19 doesn’t present with diarrhoea and there was no danger that Australian produced toilet paper would become a scare commodity any time soon, until man made it so. I guess that is the power of fear, fear of the unknown, of being left out or of being out of control.

While I struggle to understand the logic, or lack of it, I must say I’m just grateful to live in a culture that has the humble toilet roll. I remember travelling in San Gimignano and having to hand over my money to receive just a few small sheets of toilet tissue before being allowed into the toilets. And when travelling on the edge of the Sahara Desert, it was a case of go west with your spade, not a toilet roll in sight.

So, long live the humble toilet roll I say. May they soon be reclining in abundance once more on supermarket shelves.

And while this is not a traditional ode, it is a heartfelt cry for the small things, the things that are always there so we don't give them a second thought. We don't really value water until the dam runs dry, the ability to walk until something cripples our mobility or the true value of love until it's taken from us.

It's got me thinking about how much I take for granted, sunrises, fresh fruit, shoes, shampoo, fresh air, good conversations, a roof over my head and yes, the humble toilet roll.

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The cost of the instantaneous life

3/3/2020

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Granny Allen was barely five foot two. I have precious memories of her old mountain home and the breathtakingly beautiful garden she had carved out around it. Large swaths of lavender hang in my memory, the fragrance and the mist of mauve as it moved in the breeze.

She was an old lady when I first met her but still digging, planting and harvesting blossoms for Seals florist shop in Sydney. As a young girl I helped her pick and package the flowers into long cardboard boxes ready for shipping. As I look back, I think maybe it was the beginning of my dream to one day become a florist.

I hadn’t thought about Granny Allen for decades and it was a recent catch up with a childhood friend that brought back those memories. There’s something wonderful about a friend who has lived a lifetime with you and has the long view of your life. It made me realise that it’s the relationships that have grown over the years and the things I've had to save or strive for over time that I value most.

Nothing we become is instant. It takes years to become an engineer and many more to qualify as a doctor. Parenting is a lifelong learning experience as is mastering art, ballet, self-control and patience.

We gain life experience, we gather wisdom; our development is a slow process and often imperceptible and yet somehow we are being tricked into the idea that life can be instant.

Google gives us instant answers; a mobile phone makes sure we are contactable 24/7. We no longer need to queue at the bank, we manage our finances online or from a hole in the wall. We have instant pay, don't queue any longer for train or bus tickets and can even have our shopping or takeaway delivered to our door.

When I was growing up, autumn was apple and pear season. I remember going with my family to buy apples at an orchard. The apples were crisp and the juice ran down my arm. They tasted unlike anything I buy as an apple today. Now we chill them, gas them, genetically modify them and now we even Xray them (even more reason to grow your own)! We import them from all around the world, from countries that do not have the same restrictions that we have regarding fertilisers and pesticides. And I defy you to buy a strawberry that tastes anything like it did when I was a child, sweet, juicy and red right through.

We’ve lost so much of the joy of seasons, of looking forward to winter vegetables and autumn fruit. We’ve lost the healthy practice of only eating food that’s in season. The market has dictated that we don’t have to wait; we can have whatever we want, whenever we want it.

It helps us live faster and smarter, or so they say. But in the process, something precious is lost. We are being robbed of the opportunities to develop patience, resilience, perseverance and self control, the experiences that teach us to value and treasure things that are special, and above all, the joy of anticipation.

I'm convinced that nothing of real value is achieved in the instantaneous life and yet its tentacles have a vice-like grip on our way of life and the very fabric of society. I see its consequences daily in intolerance, impatience and an easy come, easy go attitude.

It's the very weathering of rocks over time that creates their beauty.

Eighty one year old, Bill Hatfield, has just become the oldest person to sail solo, non stop and unassisted around the world. It was his fourth attempt. Despite encountering weather and equipment difficulties requiring him to abort attempts in 2015, 16 and 17, he refused to give up on the dream he'd cherished since he was seven years old. That's a lot of dreaming, perseverance and resilience at an age when many people have settled for a quiet, relaxing retirement.

Some of the most precious things in my life have cost dearly; the investment of time, endurance, courage and a great deal of patience, something I had to learn the hard way because it certainly wasn't in my nature.

I'm so grateful that life is a process, a slow developing fruit. I can always look forward to who I am becoming, for like diamonds that take hundreds of millions or even billions of years to develop into one of the strongest materials on earth, its in the slow process of living that we become strong and rich in the things that truly matter.

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Unanswered questions

Ode to a toilet roll

The cost of the instantaneous life

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