I distinctly remember a moment when I was walking around Windsor Castle and realised that the ground beneath my feet had also been beneath the feet of kings and queens I’d learnt about as a child. Suddenly they were no longer names in a school history book, but real people like me, who walked this earth in boots and shoes.
It was something akin to the feeling I experienced the day I discovered the Shakespeare and Company bookshop in Paris, which I’ve written about before. As I mounted the stairs, I thought of the many writers who had climbed them before me … the steps worn thin by the soles of a thousand shoes, searching for inspiration and a future in the written word.
It was something akin to the feeling I experienced the day I discovered the Shakespeare and Company bookshop in Paris, which I’ve written about before. As I mounted the stairs, I thought of the many writers who had climbed them before me … the steps worn thin by the soles of a thousand shoes, searching for inspiration and a future in the written word.
At the far end of George Street, Sydney, in The Rocks, are the remains of wooden streets which were once a part of the early colony of Sydney. The original roads had been constructed of sandstone, which cracked and shattered under the horses hooves and iron carriage wheels. From the 1800s roads were built from wooden blocks of Jarrah and Kauri, laid like bricks. It wasn’t a new concept. Timber roads had been used in London, but they were built from softwood, which couldn’t withstand the continually wet and often freezing conditions. Our Australian hardwood made for a strong, durable surface that remains today.
As I wandered down that stretch of wooden road, I heard the footsteps of the convict who built it … the butcher, baker and candlestick maker, who walked it on their way to work and the labourers who swept it each day. Their life was so different to mine, and yet I’m sure they too had hopes and dreams, longed for love, and wished for more comfort than their life allowed. They walked ahead of me not knowing what their labours would unfold and in the process of their everyday lives, built a city that would one day be mine.
As I wandered down that stretch of wooden road, I heard the footsteps of the convict who built it … the butcher, baker and candlestick maker, who walked it on their way to work and the labourers who swept it each day. Their life was so different to mine, and yet I’m sure they too had hopes and dreams, longed for love, and wished for more comfort than their life allowed. They walked ahead of me not knowing what their labours would unfold and in the process of their everyday lives, built a city that would one day be mine.
Conditions for women and children in the those early days of the colony were appalling. Many young women who arrived without any money, friends, family or jobs to go to, ended up working the streets to make ends meet. Enter Caroline Chisholm, who worked tirelessly to provide shelter and employment and to improve the living conditions for the women. She could be found waiting at the wharves each time a ship arrived, to welcome women and children and make sure they were cared for.
She campaigned for better working conditions and often travelled with the women to regional areas where employment opportunities were more plentiful. The stone step pictured below is one of the last remaining remnants of the stone building where Caroline worked in Goulburn, NSW. It's a reminder of one of Australia’s most outstanding women, a great humanitarian who changed the lives of over 40,000 women over 38 years. Many of those women walked across this step. I wonder how their lives and the lives of those who came after them were different because they met Caroline Chisholm.
She campaigned for better working conditions and often travelled with the women to regional areas where employment opportunities were more plentiful. The stone step pictured below is one of the last remaining remnants of the stone building where Caroline worked in Goulburn, NSW. It's a reminder of one of Australia’s most outstanding women, a great humanitarian who changed the lives of over 40,000 women over 38 years. Many of those women walked across this step. I wonder how their lives and the lives of those who came after them were different because they met Caroline Chisholm.
We walk in the footsteps of those who've gone before .. those who've changed the world for the better, like Caroline, Mother Teresa or William Wilberforce ... those who fought for freedom on battlefields of war ... those who served their time for stealing bread and became the forbears of generations of Australians. Authors who've inspired us ... teachers who shaped us ... parents and grandparents who loved us, prayed for us, challenged us and sacrificed to provide for us.
Like ripples on a pond, the footprints of our lives are leaving a mark. I wonder about the footprints I'm leaving on the world and in the lives of those who've come across my path. How will their lives be different because of my life?
Nature teaches me how easy it is to crush beauty underfoot. To be oblivious to a tender heart, an enthusiastic idea or a cry of the soul. To be so focused and busy that I miss what's right beneath my feet. Oh how gently and consciously we need to tread.
Like ripples on a pond, the footprints of our lives are leaving a mark. I wonder about the footprints I'm leaving on the world and in the lives of those who've come across my path. How will their lives be different because of my life?
Nature teaches me how easy it is to crush beauty underfoot. To be oblivious to a tender heart, an enthusiastic idea or a cry of the soul. To be so focused and busy that I miss what's right beneath my feet. Oh how gently and consciously we need to tread.
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