G’day or good morning or
somewhere in between.
I have been so full of
thoughts, memories, rediscoveries, along with disengaging and engaging, that I
have been hesitant to try to capture any of it.
I wanted to have a storyline,
and not be randoming about like an overblown balloon with air escaping from its
loose tie.
Then again, I have always
been a fan of Brownian motion to give purpose to what otherwise might seem
purposeless.
I was recently reading to Ann
a passage, part of a paragraph that I liked, from Nicholas Rothwell’s book
Journeys To The Interior: “No, the fragment, the symbol-laden fragment, rather
than the flowing sequence, was the necessary form for what I had to say: what I
meant was in fragments, and dust; it was best told in fragments—fragments were
all that I could manage, and even they seemed too controlled, too much a bid to
reimpose order on a flux of shimmering, glancing, barely casual connecting
chains.”
Our Deakin colleague, friend,
and goodbye-for-now party host, Paula’s advice about planning for the
Warrnambool end game was well given, and well taken. I was prepared. I had a
place inside me for it. Warrnambool is still there, vital and alive, part of my
fabric of being. There is no unraveling
now that I am back in the Chico fray, just making new clothes out of it.
I have been struck, and a bit
stuck, not by any disconnecting with all that is Warrnambool, but by the lack
of consciously or consistently connecting with Chico.
There were many fragments
though.
One of the transferable
skills I acquired while away was walking. Home has a whole new view from the bi-ped
perspective.
My path of travel to the gym
is along the Esplanade (a wide tree lined boulevard), and then a bike path that
follows a decommissioned freight railway line. And then a pedestrian crossing
with a sign admonishing cars to yield to bikes and pedestrians. Good thing, as
I’m still not sure which way to look.
I see restored Victorian
homes, some as residences reclaiming a bit of faded glory, others repurposed
into professional boutique office space.
Blue jays abound and many
squirrels in the trees and on the ground. (I smile at thoughts of Kristian and
Bernie coming here and meeting our “heaps of squirrels” as they would say.)
Two days in a row of greeting
a man in black pants on a bus stop bench who has one hand firmly gripped on the
steadying bottle in a brown paper bag, the other hand shakily extended
accompanied by the wavering refrain of, “I only need 85 more cents to get some
French fries.”
Remnants of homeless camps
where the old rail bridge crosses Rio Lindo Channel. Not sure about the people who were there, how
much of them left behind. Or what of those still there.
A beautiful shadow pattern of
fence posts along the path.
Hot blue empty skies, with
only a tease of clouds over the far distant mountains.
Lawns being watered by
automatic sprinklers during the day in the midst of a drought.
Trying to make eye contact
with passing people, offering a nod of the head or a hello, getting little in
return.
The gym itself, the
experience is quite familiar. I have a new routine there, but it’s like I never
left.
It is at the open house for
the Torres Shelter expansion that being away and being back came in to focus.
The Chico Community Shelter Partnership, now the Torres Shelter, is an
emergency homeless shelter four others and I helped to start about fifteen
years ago. It models building community on a foundation of believing in and
belonging to the greater good of people.
It was as if I had left, but
I was returning to my country. Welcomed
and well come on in and no escaping being fully back to here and now, with
past, present, and future experiencing rolling into one timeless moment. So many
old and new not yet met friends contributing to and creating a wonderful sense
of place. A place and sense of belonging. Home again.
I heard Bernie’s voice when
coming through the door a few days ago, as Ann was Skyping with her. Ever so
sweet the tones of “ ‘stralia ” resonating in heart and home.
Ann and I are still creating
our home space. This weekend will be our art open house with both Ann and
Australian works hung all over, before we repaint.
The solstice is once again at
our doorstep.
Come on in and sit for
awhile.
Warrnambool and Chico are
getting blended in a most wonderful way.
