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Helpless

9/24/2019

My friend was stranded on the M5 near Mittagong. Injector trouble as it turned out. When the NRMA came they said her car would need to be towed to the nearest service centre and picked up a week later. She was advised to ring someone to come and pick her up.

I was away at the time so it was no use ringing me and she couldn’t think of anyone she could ask, so she got a lift to the nearest railway station and with a long wait for a train took hours to make it home to Sydney.

I wonder if I had been home would she have rung me? Would she have rationalised asking me to drive so far to pick her up? Why is asking for help such a difficult thing for most of us?

It’s so much easier to be independent or to be the one doing the helping than the one asking. And yet in those moments we can feel so terribly alone.

Last night my neighbour lost all the power to her house. There we were; both of us peering into the metre box with no idea what we were looking for or how to solve the problem. I suggested she ask the man down the street who is always ready to help, but I heard those so familiar words, “Oh I hate asking for help”. She didn’t want to bother him and yet she would have been there in a flash if he had needed help.

None of us like that feeling of helplessness or dependence on another person. It can leave us feeling inadequate and vulnerable. But maybe that’s the very thing that could open the door to a deeper relationship. It allows others to see I don’t have it all together, which is both my fear and my greatest gift.

Or maybe the main reason is we find it hard to receive.

Giving is easy. To be on the receiving end is so much harder. It takes great humility to receive, especially if we can do nothing in return.

I have another neighbour who is incredibly kind and from time to time has helped me with things I can’t manage (yes I am getting better at asking). Each time he helps me I take him some homemade goodies. It’s my way of saying thank you and letting him know I am grateful, or is it my way of doing something in return so I don’t feel obligated?

It’s hard to know the motives of my heart sometimes. Pride can be a mean taskmaster and rob me of the blessing of sharing myself, opening myself up so others see not only my strengths, but also my weaknesses.

And on the other side of the door, I feel grateful when I’m asked for help. There’s a sense of trust and relationship that someone felt free to ask. Strange isn’t it, the very things that can bring us together in this shared thing called life, so often get bogged down in pride, shame and independence and the opportunities for both of us to be blessed, are lost.

Friendship and trust are most often forged through adversity or at least through the willingness to be vulnerable. We all need help sometimes; to believe otherwise is a delusion. Maybe its just help when the lights go out, giving support when a cars demise leaves you feeling all alone or maybe in a matter of a life and death situation, but offering and receiving help is a beautiful thing.

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Forgotten songs

9/17/2019

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There are many ways to tell a story. Michael Thomas Hill chose to tell his with 120 birdcages suspended above Angel Place, looking as if they are floating on air. It looks delightfully whimsical although the story is far from a fairytale.

It's a story of loss. The loss of 50 species of bird that once lived and thrived in the city of Sydney. Urbanisation and redevelopment have driven them out; part of the lifeblood of a city gone forever.

The artwork is called, Forgotten Songs. In a beautifully imaginative way, the artwork is brought alive by recordings of each of those bird’s songs played throughout the day from weatherproof speakers in the base of some of the cages.

The recordings have been scheduled to play at appropriate times depending on whether the bird is diurnal or nocturnal. It's a graphic and emotive way to tell a story.

It made me ponder on all the other losses in our city and in our lives. All around the city high-rise tower blocks have crowded the landscape, blocking out the sun and light that bring life and warmth.

Modern architecture has almost wiped out the sparrow that nests in buildings with roof voids, crevices in walls or under eaves, all of which are missing in modern buildings. When I was growing up, our neighbourhood was alive with sparrows, blue wrens and Willy wagtails. I haven’t seen any of those birds for years.

But it’s not just the bird life. In a neighbouring suburb I’ve just watched two Federation homes being demolished and replaced with an ugly, high-rise concrete apartment block. There were two losses, the beautiful craftsmanship and timber in those homes that went to the scrapheap, and the loss of two beautiful gardens. What price can be put on the trees, shrubs, flowerbeds and lawn, so vital to birds, bees, butterflies and a plethora of living, giving critters?

And I see it everywhere as new homes and apartment blocks rise up all around me, land cleared of every tree and scrap of nature then a token garden added; the obligatory bit of greenery to tick the box. Buildings now cover so much of the block that there is little room for a garden and even less for trees.

We are methodically destroying the life force given to sustain us. Gardens are not just a thing of beauty or a pastime for those who like that sort of thing, but a vital living part of our environment. We were created to be a part of the natural world and it supplies all we need. That’s why getting our hands in the soil is so therapeutic and why walking in the bush or walking barefoot along the sand breathing in the salt air, is so invigorating.

It's a delicate dance, keeping the balance of nature in our lives and in our world. Never in my lifetime have I seen so much stress, obesity, autoimmune disease, cancer and depression as is evident today and I can’t help thinking it is largely our disconnect with nature and the ongoing destruction of the very cycle of life of which we were designed to be a part.

We can’t fix the world, but we can create our small patch of healthy environment wherever we are, even on a balcony or tiny courtyard. I’ve tried to fill my garden with as many different types of plants as possible to sustain the greatest number of living creatures in the soil and above … lots of flowers for the bees and butterflies and as much fragrance as possible for insects and for me.

Lavender and rosemary are hardy, forgiving plants that need little tending and are wonderfully healing. I love a vase full of rosemary in my kitchen so I throw the leaves into lots of dishes and the stems grow roots in water providing economical plants!

I dig all my veggie peelings into a hole in the ground and watch the worms and microbes transform them into nutrient rich soil in a matter of weeks. That reminds me that life is a beautiful and delicate cycle and we have the privilege and responsibility to play our part. The benefits and rewards are endless, for us and for the environment.

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There is a place at the table

9/10/2019

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Wes Franklin, graphic designer, sharing his skills

Sometimes, sitting across the table with people who love us, food on the table and laughter in the air, belonging is easy. Other times, when the warmth of home is a mere memory, a stranger’s kind smile will be the only promise that we are not alone. Then the best way to find belonging will be by letting others find belonging in us. Marianna Pogosyan

A group of creative and visionary souls are breathing new life into the meaning of belonging. They’ve prepared a table where anyone is welcome.

Sometimes the table is heavy with food and there is laughter and stories and friendships are built. And sometimes there’s artwork or music or the chatter of children around that table because the door is wide and all-inclusive.

The inspiration came when a no-longer-used old church site became available in Bendigo, Victoria. Now known as The Church on the Hill, it's a place of inspiration, transformation and community, irrespective of age, culture or background. In fact that's its strength, connecting and learning from one another, doing life together.

There's a Community Garden for those who love to get their hands in the soil or those keen to learn. It encourages social connection as well as being a great way to provide fresh food for people in need. The gardens are filled with the healthiest produce I've ever seen and in one corner are the chubbiest and most contented chooks.

The Living Room provides a Friday morning space for people to chat and relax, to build friendships and share stories. I met one lady who lives in a retirement complex and loves getting out amongst younger people and people from different cultures, to remain interested and involved.

The Old Church on the Hill is a heartbeat of the community with something for everyone, Jazz club, playgroups, kids club, drama group, life drawing, youth and craft groups and a fixer-upper group which helps mend household goods to save them going to landfill. A monthly multicultural feast and story time provides people a glimpse into other cultures and builds bridges and understanding. And there's so much more.

We were not meant to walk alone. We were created for community and the deepest longing of our soul is for belonging.

In a world where there is such a strong emphasis on independence, where social media and digital communication is increasingly replacing face to face connection, and loneliness is in epidemic proportions, what a beautiful thing it was to experience this group of people giving a sense of belonging to each other as they shared life together.

There was a feeling of warmth and welcome that permeated the place and let me know that the words on the wall were not an empty platitude but a apt description of the intent of people's hearts. It is a place where people are valued and cared for and it shows. I was truly blessed by being there.

Maybe someone will cross your path tomorrow for whom your smile will let them know they are not alone and maybe for all of us the best way to find belonging is to let others find belonging in us.

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Silk purses and sows ears

9/3/2019

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There’s something wonderful about walking in to a guest room someone has prepared especially for you. I had that experience recently where all the little thoughtful touches made me realise I was truly known.

On the end of the bed, on top of a carefully folded towel, was a cake of soap that had my name all over it … the fragrance; fragrance is one of my favourite things. The wrapping; beautiful botanical artwork; I love all things botanical, and in my favourite colours … a small thing, with so much meaning.

The soap was luxurious and beautiful to use but it was the wrapping that fascinated me. I brought it home as a keepsake and eventually framed it. Now it has pride of place on my coffee table and brings me joy every day.

Who would have thought that a soap wrapper could become a framed work of art? But how often do we do that, fail to see the beauty in the small things that make up the everydayness of life? It made me wonder how much beauty I discard without a second thought.

Last week as I was leaving my daughter’s home, my grandson gave me a big hug and said, “That’s the last hug I can give you”. I looked puzzled and he explained that we would never again have this day to hug; we may have another day, but never this day. What a great attitude for life!

I can’t frame the hug but I will forever remember his words and try and emulate his zest for living in the moment.

A very long time ago, sometime in the 1700s, Samuel Foote said, “Who can make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear?

Recently I read about a small team of people doing just that. Near Fremantle Harbour there’s a lot that had become an unsightly dumping ground. Three brave souls had the vision to turn it into an English style garden known as Field of the Unwanted. The beds were carefully laid out with pathways meandering throughout and the plants were carefully selected and nurtured. The thing that set this garden apart was that all the plants were weeds.

It was a garden with a message. Life is about our perceptions; we decide what is beautiful and what is not. Sometimes what we consider ugly or only worth discarding may be beauty in disguise.

Next door to the garden is a drop-in centre providing for the homeless. One of those homeless men, walking through the garden, remarked, “You should get us all in and take a photo of the unwanted people in the unwanted field”. How easily people can feel unwanted, worthless or even invisible when in reality they are beautiful souls with a good heart and endless potential, but just in a difficult time and place in their lives.

I'd love to go for a walk through that garden and be inspired. But whether I get that chance or not, I don’t think I will ever look at the weeds in my garden in quite the same way again. I think now they will always be a reminder that beauty is in the eye of the beholder not in the innate nature of the plant or the person.

I hold the power to see beauty in every aspect of my life and in everyone I meet.

Explore The Field of the Unwanted

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Helpless

Forgotten songs

There is a place at the table

Silk purses and sows ears

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