Month: Jun 2023

In the bleak mid-winter

I sometimes feel a bit feeble and a little apprehensive that the phone will ring to say a dear one is dead, or worse, dying.

Those are some of the prospects of the downhill side of the age spectrum.

Of course, there are others.

My newest grandchild is 3 months old today and can count to 42 and speaks some Italian. I have another due in a month! My oldest grandchild is already ten and growing into a terrifying beauty.

Six sprouts to water with tears of pride and joy.

Our children are grown up and independent; indulgent of their sometimes unwieldy parent. The tick tock is inexorable and marches on at pace.

I am dismayed to find we have been in Australia for 10 years already, after 15 in New Zealand.

Yet, Africa still aches within me: its politicians infuriate me and the increased pace of the crumbling of the infrastructure sickens. But it is where most of my extended family are and a trace of guilt lingers: that I will not die there where 9 generations of ancestors died and my parents, 4 sisters and two brothers have chosen to die.

But my chosen home is a bright, comfortable place and we see the grandchildren quite often, but not too much.

There are still four more Ashes tests and the Rugby World Cup this year.

Who do I want to win? Australia for the Ashes of course; the rugby is more difficult: I am a citizen of Ireland and New Zealand and live in Australia but my playing days were in Southern Africa.

I think I may bet on the Irish but my heart will be with the Bokke.

Perhaps I should re-read Desiderata:

… in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

Friday thoughts-Winter, 2023

“….. a bullet at dawn is better than being dismebered by a shell…” a line from a Sebastian Faulks novel “Snow Country“.

A soldier’s realism making desertion and the entailed disparagements of cowardice a better choice than savage maiming or horrible death. Life choices can be brutal.

The context was involvement in the Brusilov Offensive of World War 1 which probably turned the war in the Allied favour and incidentally, had one of highest casualties rates of that terrible war.

It was fought in North West Ukraine, about 107 years ago. That poor country.

Today I harvested two granadillas from my vines, which have a promising crop. I will trade them for some of our neighbours navel oranges which glow on their tree and are the sweetest, best oranges ever!

Lulu was attacked by a white ball of fur and had her tail pulled – fortunately Rosie saved her and calmed the neighbours who were aghast by their pet’s aggression. She is a wonder, that woman!

We have seen a Koala in the vicinity – he is a local lad, difficult to spot, but has been around for years.

The Higgins/#metoo/Parliamentary sex scandal is gaining traction…. evidence is emerging of secret support and lies in Parliament. Will a few more Ministers crash and burn in this sordid saga?

It seems the Voice may be getting a wee bit hoarse. There was a suggestion that focus thereon was a way to distract the populace from the pain of a shrinking economy, housing shortages, rising inflation and high minimum wage increases.

Looks like the Reserve Bank Governor is going to be sacrificed for raising interest rates to combat the inflationary increase in wages by the government and its agencies. Jim Chalmers seems to be quite a nasty chap!

The Australians are well on the way to walloping the Indians at the Oval – I am horrified that Ashwin was omitted, so maybe it is deserved. He is a wonder!

Thank God for cricket, rugby has been getting a bit boring…

Per me si va la perduta gente

“Through me go the lost people” written on the gates of hell according to Dante’s Inferno, which is part of his Divine Comedy.

It was quoted in a novel, but it gave me pause. Recently, I was debating with a good friend, a pious and patient Christian, who has never hesitated in his efforts to persuade me to make the leap of faith required to be given the keys of heaven.

I am a sceptic, a Catholic who reversed to be a questioner, not a believer. To be honest this was because I lapsed and stopped following the disciplines of the religion in which I was baptised and confirmed. It was too hard to live the good life and still get up for mass and confess my sins in order that I could receive the body of Christ. Domine, non sum dignus,  ut intres sub tectum meum, sed tantum dic verbo et sanibitur anima meum – the legionnaire’s words to Jesus: I am not worthy, … say but the word and my soul shall be healed.

So I rationalised that I could leave it to God to forgive me (if I deserved it). My later thoughts and cursory research has instilled in me a great distrust of man as a purveyor of God or the Gods’ words.

The mere fact that there are estimated to be more than 45 000 Christian denominations with new prophets and witnesses, each with their own interpretation of the Christian God, suggests that since Jesus, religion has been a fertile field for creativity … and a comfortable living?

If we include the myriad of different sects amongst Muslims, Hindus, Jews,Buddhists, Taoists and many more, all with their own gods and dogma, how can we tell the good news from the fake news?

I believe that Gods exist as an answer to our need for Them. In order for us to be able to see our way forward, gods show us Heaven/Nirvana/ Valhalla at the end of the road, guide us and welcome us when we die…

… if we believe in them.

So I have been given pause for thought by Dante. Looks like I may be bound for the inferno.

I am reassured that my friend has a firm hold of my coat tails and may still pull me back! So, while I may not have the required faith, I still have not abandoned Hope.

I hope that unaddressed prayers still get delivered!