life at 36

Hi it’s Saturday night and I’m older than last I wrote having a birthday and having it well celebrated with some grand mates out for a saturday dinner & celebrated again with family for a grand Sunday lunch at home & celebrated again on the day itself with a lunch at S’s school with kids everywhere wearing orange & coincidentally celebrating world harmony day. Brilliant.
CJ gave me all of that and also an iPhone, which has thrown up a few conundrums. For a guy who preaches quality time and face-to-face contact, to have in my possession this device of the e-world has been strange. I’m loving some features, not using others. It’s exciting, though.

Camping trip with mates over the Labour Day weekend. Bush camping. Pit toilet. BYO water. State park up past Daylesford called Mt. Franklin. If you like pine trees you’d love the place. Pine trees and volcanic craters, you’d never want to leave. Four families sharing the life, sharing the kids, sharing the food, the fire, the time. That’s something.

(Last blog, I was looking forward to some camping down the Ocean Road over summer. Well the La Niña delivered flooding rains to Victoria that week & we evacuated after 2 soggy nights. Had a crackin time though. Very much looking forward to doing it in the fine, perfect conditions of next summer.)

And I’ve been reading some beauties. Lots more writing of the Irish; Sebastian Barry, Roddy Doyle among them. And I got to thinking about my allegiance to language and to story-telling and to all of it. And so I purchased myself a brilliant Ireland rugby jersey. I’ve worn it on most days since it arrived here inside a plastic white parcel. Very happy with that, I can tell you. It feels good. I then went ahead, swept up in the romance of The Burren and a grand week spent in Ireland back in 2002 or 2003 or something, and I bought myself a hurling shirt of County Clare. Trouble was, though, that the GAA shop couldn’t send it to an address outside of Ireland. Ahh. A minor setback in this age of e-communication and strange e-networks, as I called upon my distant and great friend to let me use her Dublin postal address as a proxy. Set up. Looking forward to the gold and blue shirt arriving at our place some time after Easter. What a world. Thanks so much, S.

It’s been a funny old time, though.
On the one hand, bubbling along with the kids. S starting school & thriving, really thriving. “Dad, I love school.” Tired, though. Shattered. K emerging in her own right at the kinder. Getting to spend some grand one-on-one time with her at home. “Dad, let’s ride the tag-along to CERES.” Really healthy. Exciting.
On the other hand, I’m seemingly surrounded by busyness. Caught the tram on Friday. Observed many conversations beginning identically:
Step 1. Hey, how are you?
Step 2. Busy, Yeah, I am flat out.
Busy is the new black. Not that new, though.
Everyone is doing it.
Is it a status symbol?
Is it something to be desired?
Something to be defined by?
Surely we don’t have to be busy.
I guess that means we’re choosing to be busy.
So what’s going on?
I think we must secretly want to be busy. This artificial busyness then means we don’t have time to think. And if we don’t have time to think, we don’t have to make decisions. If we don’t have to make decisions, we can go on acting like victims. Whingeing. Complaining. Whoah is me. My life is so full I can’t fit another thing in.

I don’t know. Stop it? Make different choices? Enjoy what you have? I don’t know.

But I do know that a sense of perspective is important.
A couple of weeks ago I lost mine. Lost it at work. Felt trapped and overwhelmed. Felt like no one was listening. Felt used. And I didn’t like it. I couldn’t face it. It’s a funny place, isn’t it, where employees publicly receive awards that recognize contributions made during overtime?
Had some time off & regained my perspective (quickly, thanks). CJ helped me to remember that it’s just a job & to remember there are plenty of other jobs out there. It’s brings a fresh freedom. Who ever knows what the future holds, anyway?

Well, the future always holds the unknown, at least. And adventure & all that. A new life has entered the world since last I wrote. Now that is the biggest of the big. That is where perspective starts & ends for me. I haven’t met this particular little fella yet, but his mum was pretty pumped on the phone last week.

The climate change debate, national politics, footy, all sports to be fair, all fade away to the minor league pissing contests that they are in the face of family & friends. It’s what makes & breaks you, I think. It’s what defines you. But then, one person’s personal aggrandizement is another’s achievement. 2nd grade batting trophy? Cricket grand final? Gaining a promotion? Eating only vegetarian foods? Why do we do what we do?

So again I can see the humour in our elected representatives’ behaviour. I can see the humour in the earnestness of the shock jocks, the placard wavers, the footy supporters with painted faces. I can see the humour in anyone taking this sideshow seriously. Seriously. I feel some sympathy for them all too. And especially for their families.

The way I see it, most are taking this world too seriously. Look it. At the species level we won’t be around forever, just as no other species has been around forever. We’re just passing through on this Earth. Accepted.
At the national level, we don’t we act more as species? Who are we to turn away fellow humans from this bit of land? It’s ridiculous when you think about it. At the national level, why do we not fund only free universal health & education? Why do we give better deals to those with more money and call it opportunity? Think.
At the local level, why do we not know the names of twenty people who live in or own street? What’s going on? Think.
At the home level, why do we choose to battle the clock/ bank balance/ each other?
For each of us (individual, family), the clock is always ticking. In our own lives, the clock is always ticking. But if your circumstances let you, why would you not take the slow road? The road of genuine contacts, relationships, listening, sharing. I think it’s all I’ve got.

I do feel very lucky to have those mates in my life who share themselves & who allow me to share myself with them.
I remembered. I did forget there for a while.
So I’ll slow it. Laugh it. I won’t really be here that long.
What have I got to lose? That's life at 36.