jagged clifftops

(Twilight, Sunday evening, 10 Jan, Sydney University)

Had a lovely weekend. It was packed full of summer activites. On Saturday I drove Sarah down to north Wollongong to spend the day at the beach. The beach we went to was 'dog friendly' and it was amazing because there were dogs everywhere leaping and running about, splashing in the sea and body surfing. They were so happy, so alive, so full of joy and in the moment, and to be in all this happy canine presence was most gladdening to us.

The north Wollongong strip is only about an hour's drive south of Sydney and it's an astoundingly beautiful place. There are rows of pristine beaches that are backed up by lush mountains. Up until 25 years ago it was very cheap to buy there as those suburbs were coal-mining villages, full of fibro cottages. Now it is extremely expensive to buy into that area, and why not? It is paradise.

On Sunday I went to a family do in the southern Sydney suburb of Kirrawee. It was a glorious summer's day. My auntie turned 90; it was she who's husband passed away last month. So we all got together again, which was kind of nice as I usually see my cousins only rarely. Only thing is I had a couple of gigs to get to mid-afternoon. I felt self-conscious and embarrassed to pack up and leave the congregations so soon, so I blew off the first gig. And then I was too late getting to the second gig. But at least I showed my face and was able to explain myself, and appease the sound guy. But if the main organiser finds out that could be it for me as far as getting offered gigs go, but what could I do? I do feel an underlying dismay about this and am in two minds about contacting R.

In the evening I met up with Sarah again in Glebe for some glorious Badde Manors chai, and then we walked down to Sydney Uni and strolled around its 19th century gothic sandstone buildings during the twilight hour.

Today, Monday, back at work. Glum city. I was on my own up there, except for the workers who are creating new rooms up at one end of the library, and creating new non-library spaces and rooms at the other end. I hope I can get myself into a trajectory of motivation and achievement, and soon. I damn well need to! There's so much that needs doing in 3 weeks. I need to work on the RFID security system project, I need to organise and supervise labour to refit the newly-shrunk library, organise new staff and all that's involved with the uptake of new students and a new term. At the moment all I see is a black, stark, jagged clifftop with the peak way-way above me and barely discernible. It's not a pretty sensation. History proves though that after a few days I'll be in the swing of it where you're just doing it, at which time speeds up and before you know it it's Christmas again, and again..

This evening I did a walk around the park. The sun was slowly setting and an amber/orange glow was cast around the healthy green trees. It was gorgeous, and I felt better for being there and exercising in the lovely park. I had an almost amusing realisation, that beauty allows us to glimpse the holes through our constructs, to see right past the whole damn thing. I'm tired of the construct. My own constructs, the constructs all around me. I felt that definite sense today that 'nothing really matters', yet in that glowing amber/orange light refracting off green leaves I equally realised that everything matters. There is a kind of integrity that holds it all together. Being out in the beauty is but one reflection of that integrity. Yet this is a most built-up construct, or civilisation, that we live in. We have to act out the construct to live in it, or survive in it. Give it its due. Even if it is jagged, burdensome, and preposterously absurd at the best of times.

But I can smell it in the air. The whiff of dissatisfaction is palpable, moreso now during this mid-summer glory. One can only wonder where it's all going to lead.


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