Just a few benchmarks from the last few years.
foto – summer fruits and knife bilambil 2009
GEM COLLECTION TOPIC : “Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each. “ Henry David Thoreau.
What: You strap on headphones and crank up the volume.
500 words. I have been away and committed to family so my newly forming routine remains embryonic. Today, the theme is to do with things in their season and the technique is Max Barry no 8 THE HEADPHONES. I am not a headphone person but I AM a classicFM woman so I shall put that on and go for the 500 words.
Its raining. The weekend was classic summer heatwave and I LOVED it. Sydney is said to have had a record heatwave last week but I remain sceptical. Up here, it was hot enough, just long enough. The Australian summer has been a mighty creature this time. Flooded a capital city, cycloned the far north and is now burning the western capital of Perth.
I am in the Season of the Grandmother. I have Nana tattooed on my left ankle. My sister’s season is ending and I sit beside her realising that we don’t have a buffer zone any longer. A wrinkled nectarine of a woman, I am. Then again, I have seen the gardenia bloom again in January, well after its November blossoming.
“Resign yourself to the influences of each”. To not being able to easily rise from the rocky swimming of our creek out in the Never Never. My son and his young woman reach back to lend me a hand in climbing the bank of the creek to reach the car and I baulk at the offer. This week, I accepted and found something of true comfort is a strong arm and sure feet helping me out.
Then comes the HEAT. And I am content. Water dripping and hair tied back. Salt on the skin. This season of my life, well I have visions of how I wish it to be. Fairly clear visions they are and quite close to hand. They include shells and young girls swimming and bare feet. They include babies laughing and standing on two feet.
Without praise and without shame, I am a woman of 60 years. The Government seems to think that many of us ‘should’ be ‘working’. I think we should be living in season. I have NO interest in raising funding for ‘projects’, little tolerance for follies and foibles and graspings.
My season has verandahs around it. Deep and cool and filled with stories and greetings and games to play. ClassicFM on my old radio and a white rose growing up and over the bamboo screen.
My brother brought me a little Pylones Bird from Paris. It sits beside me on my wooden table and sings when moved even a little.
Just for now, I am just a little out of season. Seems to be invisible to other people but its troubling me and it won’t be going on much longer. I have heard the words cognitive dissonance in the last few months. There is some slight dissonance in my life and I am not going on with the cracked bell. I have paid the price of moving fully into my own season and I don’t intend to forfeit that seat in the Life Theatre. And so I have the radio on. My own music.
“Headphones on .“
Now I realise that the trees blossom in Spring and bear fruit in Summer without seeking praise, and they drop their leaves in Autumn and become naked in winter without fearing shame. Gibran.
Dropping my leaves. Becoming Naked. No shame.