High 5-ing the World

Resolution? Promise? Goal? I don't know what you'd call it, but a year ago we made one.

In a conversation about where we'd like to be as a family, we quickly realised that the future we were planning didn't include a car.

Three years ago we gave up shopping at supermarkets, a year ago we gave up air travel, two months ago we gave up eating out of season and we're slowly transitioning towards giving up our mobile phones. But giving up our car feels like the biggest decision we have made so far.

It took us a year of preparation. We started a log book so we could see all the reasons we were justifying using the car. We biked, walked, carpooled and used public transport as much as we could, and after surviving the winter, knew that we were ready.

The town we call home has limited public transport options—no trams and no trains—so we knew we'd have to be a bit more organised whenever we wanted to leave. But on the plus side, we live in town, so it's a five minute bike ride up to the post office or library.

A week ago, we drove our car to Melbourne and delivered it to its new owner. The second he drove away it started to pour, and it dawned on me for the first time, the reality of our decision.

The next day, PJ started converting our carport into a bike/tool/potting shed.

After researching and test riding several cargo bikes, we finally made our decision. Yesterday PJ and I bussed and trained to Melbourne where we picked up our Kona Utes. Our first ride was a two-hour stint from the nearest train station, home.

My legs feel strong today, though my arms are a little sunburnt. Not from waving down passing cars to give us a lift, but from feeling so overwhelmed with freedom, I couldn't help high 5-ing the world.

Overlooked

Just over a year ago I was deeply moved as I took part in Deborah Kelly's tribute to one man's stance against the tyranny of his government.

So when PJ and I received an email about Ms Kelly's latest project, Muffled Protest, we jumped at the chance to be involved.

Here are some photos from yesterday's action in Melbourne, that aimed to highlight the overwhelming injustice of incarcerating asylum seekers and their children in detention camps—how blind we have become to the suffering of others.

Bird Head

It's interesting to notice as we age, what we become desensitised to and what we don't.

I'm 35 and it still makes me laugh when I see a statue with a bird on its head. For some reason I keep waiting to outgrow this. I wonder if I will.

Upstanding Citizen

Booba's Butterflies

We went to the cemetery yesterday where my grandmother's family and friends gathered to consecrate the headstone that has now been erected at her grave. It is a double one, with her details on one side and the other left blank for my grandfather. I asked him how this made him feel, seeing it there, waiting for him. He said, had he seen it 20 years ago it would have made him feel worried, but now when he looks at it he feels ready. He said he's not wanting to die, but he's ready to lie next to my grandmother for ever.

Our grandmother loved butterflies. They were her trademark; butterfly stickers on our birthday card envelopes and butterflies on the place-cards she used at big family functions so we'd all know where to sit.

You might already know this, but it's tradition to place a stone on a jewish grave, as it indicates longevity and doesn't wither, as flowers do. My sister Kate had the idea to give each of the great grand-children a white tile for them to paint a butterfly on to leave on the grave. Z was going to be at his mum's on the day of the painting, so he drew it a few days earlier and Kate copied it onto a tile. Kate, you did such a great job!

And so did your girls. Booba would would have loved them.

One Candle

My friend Crumbs and I have been friends since we were five. (That's 30 years!) Today her daughter celebrated her third birthday, so Z and I went down to Melbourne for her party. 

It was an afternoon of privileges – to have such lovely friends and to have known them all for so long, to have all this party food to eat, and to be able to travel by car, four trains and a tram in absolute safety without a hiccup.

Not so for so many. When we arrived in Melbourne we were met by 2,000 of Melbourne's Indian population who were protesting against the rising number of violent attacks against its community.

The protest began at the Royal Melbourne Hospital where an injured Indian student is battling for his life, and concluded at Parliament House with a candlelight vigil in support of the 500 Indian students who have been attacked over the past four years.

As we celebrated the wonder of Crumb's three year-old and sang Happy Birthday, I quietly dedicated one of the candles on her cake to the 500 students and their families.

Rednesday

This year marks a decade since I first became attracted to the colour red. 

In 1999 I returned home to Melbourne from travelling through Asia to settle down for a while; find a job and a home. Regular life seemed so colourless compared to the cities and villages I had travelled in.

I don't remember if I sought out these clogs or if I saw them in a store window and just knew I had to have them. All I remember is that I was home from travelling through countries where red is the colour of prosperity, and I bought these shoes.

In those days I wore them wherever I went, though these days they sit by the front door – easy to slip on when I go outside to empty the compost bucket, check on the chooks or pull the flying fox rope back up for Z.

PS. Plant Me Then Eat Me

Axis Mundi

I had a meeting in Melbourne on Monday morning and then spent the afternoon with my mum for a belated Mother's Day celebration. We started off by walking up to Craft Victoria, where my friend Tash is having an exhibition of her work.

I took an entire memory card of photos, but not a single one does the show justice. The work feels other-worldly but my photos all came out flat. The porcelain, the scrolled paper, the poetic codes, the charted maps and the shadows created by the towers. How do I capture both the scale and detail? The boldness of the ethereal?

In her artist statement, Tash says:

Ultimately, Babel evokes a spiral passage both outward and inward. To unravel the scrolls initiates a return to the spine – the axis mundi, the source of a universal native tongue – love.

And here, the axis mundi of another world, a Mother's Day gift from PJ, Z and I, left in the bush for Mother Nature.

Too Much of Me

I took these photos yesterday at the Monash University Museum of Art in Melbourne. PJ and our friend Jason Workman, who together make up WorkmanJones, had two of their films showing in a group show entitled Too Much of Me: 7 Paths Through the Absurd, (with Detour).

If you live in Melbourne, I recommend you make the schlepp out to Clayton. It's a really great show.

Some of my favourite pieces were by the Austrian artist Erwin Wurm, whose One Minute Sculptures comprise several low white plinths on which he had instructions/encouragements for how he envisaged people to interact with the object or objects on the plinth.

Take your must loved philosophers, this one says, in relation to a pile of philosophical texts.

Carrying a bomb for a minute, this one says. 

Eyes Wide Shut*

I took this photo of PJ yesterday at ACCA. You can't see it from this angle but the face has been printed onto stainless steel that has then been laser cut and pulled out convexly. Apart from this piece, by Justine Khamara, it was a very disappointing show.

* I don't remember liking the Kubrik film especially, though I very much enjoyed reading the 1926 book the film was based on, Traumnovelle (Dream Story) by Arthur Schnitzler.

Legend has it that when Kubrik bought the film rights, he sent his peeps out across the lands to buy up all the copies of the Schnitzler book so that nobody would know the story.

I read it while I was travelling through India many years ago. I had bought it at a second hand bookshop. I was sitting reading it on a train one afternoon when a couple of tourists walked by me. When the guy saw what I was reading he told me the story of Kubrik buying up all the copies and begged me to post it to him when I had finished reading it, which I did.

Ben Kweller

My relationship with PJ has been full blast since we first hooked up. We were sharing finances after a couple of months and share nearly everything, except two things.

Our books live on separate shelves at either end of our office. His are neatly arranged into categories such as Experimental Poetries, Obscure Nonsense and Ecological Counterculture, while mine are stacked randomly according to the order I pulled them from their boxes when we first moved into this house.

On the whole we like the same music, which is a very lucky coincidence, though we still like to listen to music that the other can't stand. I have a playlist on my iPod full of songs that I know PJ doesn't like that I often play loudly when he goes out.

Last night I trained to Melbourne and went with my sister Emily to see Ben Kweller. Oh what joy to share such a great experience with her and to be surrounded by people in a sold out venue who like his indi pop ballads as much as I do.

Disruption of Apples

Yesterday morning before we took Z to school, we picked a whole lot of apples from the Poemscape trees next to the library. Afterwards PJ and I trained to Melbourne where he conducted and I filmed a workshop with some third and fourth year RMIT design students.

The workshop was about performing the city and disrupting space. After a brief presentation, PJ gave the students the apples we picked and we went out into the streets.

One group placed the apples on the ground in a busy lunchtime laneway, while we all stood back and watched how people responded.

The last group drew an apple on a brick wall and invited us to throw the remaining fruit at the chalk- drawn target. It felt like such a waste, the point made doubly clear next to the skip full of unwanted goods.

Heavens Above

Although our time in Melbourne was stressful, as we had no idea if we'd have a house or community to come home to, we were still able to have an enjoyable time.

I took this photo of Z yesterday morning in the apartment building where my grandfather lives. 

And I took this picture this afternoon at home – the heavenly rain falling on our deck.

Environmental Refugees

Because of the forecast of high winds combined with the threat of fire, we decided not to take any chances. When Z got home from school, we packed the car and are staying the night with our dear friend Nick in Melbourne.

(For those fowl friends amongst you: Our new birds are locked in their coop with plenty of food and water.)

On our way through town we stopped by the town hall to register our departure with the Red Cross. In the main hall they were still set up from the fires last week with mattresses and blankets and hours worth of offline entertainment.

Introducing

In Melbourne the other night, my grandfather went to the ballet with one of his sisters. It made me feel uncomfortable to imagine that strangers might think they were husband and wife. The next day I heard that a woman had said to my great aunt how lovely it was for my grandfather that he was dating already, so soon after my grandmother passed away.

I would be shocked if my grandfather did meet somebody else so soon, but if he did, I would of course be happy for his happiness.

I am happy for our happiness today, though we are all still rather hesitant and detached. We need eggs and it makes no sense to buy them, so we went out to a guy named Neil's place and picked out three new hens. Z's is the small black 12-week old Australorp and mine and PJ's are the 16-week old Light Sussexes. As yet unnamed. As yet unknown to us. 

In an attempt to recognise our chickens' place in the local ecosystem, tonight we read to Z the first half of Dahl's Fantastic Mr Fox.

Empty Nest

For work and because of the threat of fire where we live I spent the last couple of days in Melbourne, while PJ worked in Sydney. We picked up Z and now the three of us are home and happy.

Earlier in the week the worst sound in the world was the incessant sirens of the fire engines on their way to the nearby blaze. 

Today the worst sound in the world is my own voice, unanswered by our five chicks and two beautiful hens. When I left for the train station early on Thursday morning I made the executive decision not to lock the chooks up. In case there was a fire, I liked the idea that they would smell the smoke or feel the radiant heat and escape to some place safe.

I am sorry to say that my decision killed them. Not by fire, but by fox.

This morning before I met PJ at the airport shuttle bus, I went to see The Water Hole exhibition at ACCA, which I loved. I'm not sure you can see from this photo but the discarded plastic water bottles form a giant nest on which sit dozens of abandoned eggs. 

To these birds that were born into the leftovers of our consumerables, and to our seven birds that were consumed, I say I'm sorry.

Spewsday Tuesday

From Spender:

Hey Peeps.

This is gross but I couldn’t resist. Curiosity always gets the better of humanoids.

So, 109 tram down vic parade. 11 am. busy tram. Went to sit at a (surprise) empty bunch of seats then realised some one had blown chunks on the floor. The funny bit was the 2 dollar coin in the middle.

1. Some one swallowed a coin by mistake and realised their error while on the tram

2. Some one spewed and thought they would leave a tip for the cleaner

3. Some dadaist created an installation and a social experiment to see how much it would cost for some one to fish around in a pile of vomit for a quick buck.

I leave you with these deep resounding questions...

Social Warming

Since we decided on the theme of social warming for our panel at the Two Fires festival, I have been thinking a lot about the kinds of things people do for, and say to, one another in social settings.

My grandmother who died recently was a gifted social warmer. She had an innate ability to know how to disarm people. Step one: Making people feel comfortable.

In Melbourne at the place I have been buying my sushi for lunch, there is a bowl of homegrown fruit that is there for the taking. Step two: Making people feel included.

In the kitchen at work this poster is stuck on the wall, listing how everybody takes their tea and coffee. Step three: Bringing people together.

The Give and the Take

On the way to the train station in Melbourne last night, we passed by some people rummaging through a skip piled high with goods from a nearby church-run op shop. They found some old suitcases they were filling with their loot. The wastefulness was mind blowing; clothes, toys, books, office supplies, food, games – it was all thrown in.

What do charities do with their donations they no longer want? Donate them to landfill? Give them to another charity? Last night that was us. We found a laundry basket to fill and joined the others in their merriment and scavenging and disbelief that such goodies were freely available for the taking, to the takers.

Today we took part in another activity of abundance. For the second month in a row, a local winebar has provided the space for a harvest swap meet where gardeners are encouraged to bring their excess produce to swap. We took parsley and carrots and took home lettuce, chocolate mint and peaches, which we shared just now with friends on the deck in the gloaming.