The Day Has Arrived

Today, one chapter closes and yet another opens - that's life. And with those deep and meaningful philosophical musings out the way, I will tend to other thoughts....

For those who do not know, these past two and a half years have been spent living a dream - to live and immerse oneself in another country for at least a year - I have spoken about this dream before. Today, this particular dream ends and we commence the journey home to our native Australia - before indulging in a childhood dream of going to Disneyland.

We are merely tourists now. Prematurely, in the midst of psychological displacement concerning ones whereabouts, I entered into a museum guest book, under the heading of address "Australia". I have no address there as yet, but we had recently sold our family home and I was confused as to where I belonged. Do I belong in Australia? I don't know, we'll have to see. I have felt displaced for so long, and have spoken about this in the past also.

One thing is for sure, I am ready to settle - ready to commit to a locale, a residence, a community and a people - home is where you make it. Is it not, and under such pretenses, Canada....or more precisely, Ladner, British Columbia - quietly poised on the Fraser River Delta, has been home for us for the past two and a half years. Our children have grown up there, we have made some very good friends there, we have had experiences there that we would not have had otherwise. We laboured over a rotten house and made it respectable. I am going to miss the friends I have made and I am also going to miss the land.

On Friday I attempted to taken in the surroundings of Ladner one last time. It was Mister's last day of school and all my errands had been done, Missy Mopps and I had only to kill time before picking Mister up from school. It was a bright Fall day, clear blue skies and a fresh breeze that stung my cheeks. We meandered along the school route alley way that ran behind our old place, the poplar trees had recntly dropped a million leaves; it was like walking upon a thick golden carpet. I sighed and said "thank you", acknowledging the uniqueness of the moment.

Yesterday we had a terrible wind storm. The power was out from 6:30am until 10:30 am. We could hear things being tossed about in the gale. Early in the piece, curiosity got the better of me and I ventured out from under my cosy bundle of blankets to witness the trail of destruction first hand. Neighbouring trees bent unnaturally, in the wind; autumn leaves whirled frantically against the fury of the wind, like panicked villagers scrambling for cover admist a surprise ambushing by henchmen and plunderers, while low dark clouds raced across the sky like a team of wild horses. It was a delight upon the eyes and all I could do was stare in wonder.

I had hoped we might yet experience one last snow, but we are leaving just a tad too early, but if I allow myself some quiet time, I can see the white world outside that, which was once my window, and I can hear the dry crunch of snow and ice under my heavy boots as I walked, and the eerie stillness of a land shrouded in a cold blanket - the memory goes with me.

The lush green of this land; its vibrant boating and fishing community; the birds, particularly the geese and mallards, I will sorely miss. In the stifling heat of an dry Adelaidian summer, I have these images to reflect upon, and only experience will tell me if these thoughts, under such opposing conditions, become points of torture or relief - nonetheless, I am grateful of these experiences; of the opportunity to discover and live these moments and to take away these and many more memories. I will miss Canada, and hope to return one day soon, but for now, goodbye and thankyou.

Dear Diary

Dear Diary is the theme of this week's Sunday Scribbling.

I have kept diaries of sorts since I was perhaps 15 years old. I threw out my first ever diary due to its shamefully embarrassing and juvenile content, but I kept my second one, which just so happened to be a school project we had to do as part of our year 12 English curriculum. I doubt any teacher actually had a read of its content; it was written by a dopey 16 year old after all, but had anyone chanced a bit of a skim through, they might have been surprised, for I never said a word in the majority of my classes at school, and the diary content, in hindsight, is both riotously hilarious (though not deliberate) and tragic (perhaps melodramatic is a better word...or angst-riddled maybe).

It did pass my mind to share one of the more laughable moments in that second diary, but I refrained from doing so, instead I thought I would share this little tid bit. In hindsight I think perhaps I might have suffered a little of the old post natal depression in the aftermath of having my babies. I was quite depressed and despairing for quite a while afterward... then we moved to Canada and the isolation, the loneliness, the lack of support was almost unbearable. To make matters worse, I then endured Vancouver's wettest winter ever; a winter that just would not let up. The darkness, the lack of vitamin D and my already questionable mental state saw me plunge into a deep dark hole, one that I could not see my way out of......until I travelled by myself to Australia to attend my friend's wedding. It was the break I needed; the beginning of my turn around. You'll be happy to know that I am in a much better place these days.

This is a diary entry of my landing in Sydney after my "great escape". It is a bit of an emotional rant - I hope you can follow it:

2nd March 2006 – Sydney Australia - 27 degrees Celsius

What a tumultuous thirty-six hours. Talk about stress and serenity; life and death; darkness and light; turmoil and peace; sanity and insanity; warm and cold.

What would a numerologist say of this state of being; highs and lows and opposing thoughts, feelings and experiences?

I love my family, but my soul has been dying and I have felt like one of those ships lost in the Bermuda triangle – having mysteriously disappeared without a trace, with no hope of ever being seen again –soul off the radar.

Actually the red light is still flashing on the navigation screen. It signals that all is well; all is registering. Life and the vessel are following the straight path to its destiny. Perhaps the vessel might encounter a storm or undue turbulence, perhaps the people on board are a bit bored themselves; they might feel a bit uncomfortable for a while, but they know it isn’t for long; they know that there is an end to their suffering – they can generally count down the hours on one or two hands. So for them, it is mostly…. well, bearable. I don't know where I am going or how long it is going to take. It is as though I boarded a ship without an itinerary and have unwittingly boarded one that has simply been set adrift.

My dreams have stagnated and rot due to a lack of reflection. They fade away like the colour of a bright red t-shirt left for weeks to dry on the clothes line during a heatwave. The brilliant red grows duller and duller; the garment stiffens and becomes unshapely with each rain and scorching it gets, hanging there neglected and forgotten.

I really did have dreams once, but I don’t remember what they are now….
Actually I do remember, but the fire of possibility has long been extinguished, the winds that fanned the flames – exhausted. What remains is the ashen remnants of an idea.

Everything starts with an idea – sure, but passion, desire, inspiration, hope and opportunity are needed for an idea to sprout forth. Nourishment enables the idea to gather strength and strive toward its greatest potential. We all need a little visual progress from time to time. Don’t you think?

I often find myself sympathising with the jailbirds – the prisoners. I can’t think of a more debilitating place in which to gather hope for a better life; of believing deep down that one is a worthy human being, with talents and gifts to offer the world, but are prevented from achieving this end. I often feel that my life is as restricted, lonely and confined as a prisoner – but at least I can get into my car and roam. It is not my physicality that is being held prisoner as much as my mind. I am a slow thinker – considered no more clever than an ass, when I were at school. In reality however, I really just needed the time and freedom to think.... I am not at school anymore. I am at home, but I still need that time to collect my thoughts and arrange them on the blank pages of my mind. But today I am not at home. I have managed to escape.

Alone I took a plane to Sydney Australia from Vancouver Canada. I think I spent most of the journey in a state of shock; my mind was numb, confused and unaccustomed to peace. I felt paralysed during that flight, not knowing what to do with myself and this yet unrealised freedom. My mind only seemed to switch back on as I exited my plane - like a child's forgotten toy that had suddenly been gifted a fresh battery.

I have been away from my family for 24 hours now, and I have barely spoken to a soul; customs guy at the airport; train ticket girl and the waiter here, in this glorious cafe that I now find myself.

For the first time in ages...years, my mind is observing its surroundings; it is reflecting, absorbing and watching the energy that is this peripheral life with all its activity. I am enjoying the silence, the stillness, the ability to just be...uninterrupted within myself.

I feel free.

Purpose

We have a bird house hanging in the lofty cedar that basks in the sunshine, out the back door.

I really missed the parrots that flitted in and out of our yard in Australia. Their noise and colour, brought such life to our yard, and I used to encourage their return by hanging bird munchies in the Stringy Bark growing at the edge of the lawn. These munchies were bought from the store in a block, which was basically a make up of seeds, dried apple and syrupy water to hold it together - the birds loved them. Here though, the rats congregate if I put seed out and they are certainly NOT welcome.

Last year I placed the bird house in the tree and hoped it would become tenanted. I believe we were outside playing one late spring day, when a sparrow stumbled upon the bird house, inspected it inside and out, and called for an entire afternoon, to all the birds in the district, to let them know her intention of claiming this seemingly vacant abode, for herself. No one challenged her, so she made it her home.

In the summer, we started doing up our backyard, and perhaps it was the commotion coming from outside her front door, I am not really sure, but she up and left one day and never returned.

This year, as I undertook my morning ritual of gazing out the bathroom window after I shower, (I do this so I can feel the cool breeze on my hot face) I was delighted to see that the birdhouse was inhabited once more. This sparrow, lived in the house for some weeks before she determined to make a cozier nest, and I watched her one morning journeying to an fro with old twigs and brush, and forcing them through the tiny round opening at the front of her house.

Now I believe she has some chicks. From the open bathroom window, I can hear tiny peeps and the mother bird flits out in search of food and returns, perches on the edge of her house's opening; her head in and tail out, presumably feeding her young. One day I hope to bear witness to her brood taking flight.

This morning however, I observed mother bird preening herself on a thin branch nearby. She seemed relaxed and content while attending to her personal needs. Then she flew away.

Her activities lead me to ponder the themes of duty and purpose. I thought about birds and animals and wondered if they ever questioned their existence, or do they accept that this IS their purpose, and once their babies are grown and are strong enough to leave the nest...how did she feel? Was she relieved to be free of her children's demands? Was she sad that she was now alone in the world? Did she worry what would become of her many children? Did she ever long to see them again, and if she did, did they recognise her and greet her with affection? Or did she then become immediately concerned with preparations for surviving the coming winter, and come next spring, would she be filled with the insatiable desire to fulfil the destiny of mother to a brood of birds once more?

In that moment, I favoured the notion that this little sparrow knows and is quite certain of her purpose in the world, and I found myself envying her, just a little.

The long road home

We are coming home.

On the virtual eve of your two year anniversary here in Canada, we have decided that we are going to go back to Australia. We hope to be standing upon Australian soil by December 2007.

We don't know what we are going back to. Things change with the passing of time; places, people, ourselves, and then there are the unexpected things; things that perhaps only we, the removed, will notice.

Things will not be the same once we get back, nor do I expect them to be, which makes me a little afraid, a little uneasy and tentative in expressing my joy to return. I am afraid you will not like the new us, if you perceive there to be a "new us"; I am concerned that you have adjusted splendidly to our absence and there is no longer a place for us in your lives. Our kids don't know you, and you don't really know them; give them time, they will love you, just as we do.

We don't really know exactly where we are going to call home, within our wide brown land; we are hoping Adelaide, so we can be nearer to those we have missed, but the reality is that we have to go where the work is.

So why now....when we initially suggested forever.

Well, the answer to that could very well take pages to explain, and each page might present statements that contradict with the last: I love it here, but I dislike what I have become. I have enjoyed the years of quiet reflection and have appreciated being removed from certain stressful situations, but I dislike the isolation, dislocation from the social and the loneliness. The financial situation here has been crippling, stifling, limiting and suffocating, and yet we hope to return with a good profit. Ashley will tell you his love for sport is one reason he yearns so strongly for Australia, and yet we have not watched a single game of hockey, a sport that rivals Aussie Rules, concerning the inspired passion, and frenzied supporters stakes. We might tell you how soul depleting we found the cold dark months of winter over here, and yet the sight of falling snow was such joy to the heart, that our inner child simply burst with wonderment and playful abandon that we secretly wished it would keep falling like soft feathers, forever. We will tell you that the timing fits with children's schooling so they fit in and make friends, all the while tearing them away from the Canadian friends they have already made. I might tell you that I have missed Australia and am glad or, perhaps relieved to be home, but do not scold me, if I present with a broken heart when reflecting upon my time in Canada, for unlike Australia, which I know to be waiting for us with reassuring welcoming arms, I know my life here in Canada can never be again...it is over and it is done, and it feels a little like the end of a marriage, in some respects....one simply can not go back.

I first fell in love with Canada in 1999, when we spent time there on vacation. I longed to return, and dreamed of one day doing just that, saying that "I could live there"....mind is a powerful thing. But like all fairy tales, they are just that, fairy tales; skimming over the realities of real life and the practicalities of everyday living...no one lives happily ever after; it would be superficial to suggest they do; dismissing a person's growth through the challenges, adversity and the self-reflection they have had to endure.

When we return, I hope to make some good choices. I hope to return, having acquired some wisdom, though I can't tell you what kind of wisdom that is, for at this point, as I am still living in the moment. I hope to return and not make the same mistakes I have made in the past, but really, I don't know where life is taking me next.... taking us next, but I am open to whatever it is.

I just want to live.