Fires - Saturday 7th Feb, 09

I don't want to write very much about the fires, there are already so many stories out there much more important than mine. My role was a very small one; as a member of the Mt Camel Brigade of the CFA, I joined a stike team to patrol the town of Wandong on Sunday night. It was already dark when we arrived and it was difficult to understand how much damage had been done. I wrote the following poem as we left the town via the Hume Hwy just before dawn.


Wandong early Monday 9/2/09

The predawn light
makes the white gum trunks
stand starkly from the dark
silhouette of leaves
and ground

Amongst them there are
houses
with only a slight
shift in their shape
no lights in the windows

The predawn tells
a kinder story than
the one we are going
to hear
because when dawn
breaks
the blackness remains
and the shapes don't
shift back

Not the usual NYE

My New Year’s Resolution: There are peaceful, harmonious people in the world and I am going to try to be one of them.

This New Year’s Eve found me with a group that expanded and contracted like a breath. We were camped on the banks of the Yarra River at Longridge – at its smallest, the group was eleven, at its largest, twenty-five. People came and went in dusty bare feet, spending the time that they could, sometimes going to work from the camp and returning in the evening. And there was an endless trickle of new arrivals embraced and held while the children ran off together despite age differences. For the most part, these people were new to me. Two of them were old friends, they had introduced me, invited me here to join the group, they said I would fit in, that I would love it; but there had been subtle warnings about the ‘alternative’ nature of some of the people I was likely to encounter.

I have trouble with the term ‘alternative’. When applied to music in a music store rack, it suggests a level of uncertainty about where the particular artist should go, or else it seems to be a bit of a cop out. Either way I don’t like the implied lack of effort – music shouldn’t be so passionlessly pigeonholed. When applied to people or communities, it’s a bit strident, as if the need to label the community ‘alternative’ takes something away from the community in question.

“What will they expect of me?” The question harassed me as I packed my new nylon tent and wondered if perhaps it wasn’t suitable, maybe they’d all be in biodegradable tipis, or building bark humpies, or in simple swags. The eskies brimming with crushed ice and the perishable food went into the boot next. Would the others have eskies? Maybe they’d make Coolgardie safes or nestle the vegies into a cool spot in the river. Even the car boot that I was packing came into question – rather conventional, wasn’t it, a sedan? They probably all drove comby vans or mini mokes with the tops down no matter what the weather was like.

When I nestled my car between a comby van and another sedately white sedan in the carpark of the Longridge Campground, and looked out into the camp to see a mixture of swags, old canvas continental tents, tarpaulins strung between trees and new nylon domes the nervousness that I had wound like a tight coil in my neck without even knowing it released like a spring.

I was introduced and welcomed as if I had always been there.

This New Year’s Eve, instead of drinking too much chardonnay, I wowed the gathered crowd with my limited skills in fire twirling because I thought they would appreciate them, despite the stumbles and faults. This New Year’s Eve, instead of everyone ‘bringing their own’, they all brought something, put it together and cooked and ate communally; modifying old favourite recipes to cope with the dietary requirements and tastes of the group without a murmur. This New Year’s Eve, instead of music at an obnoxious volume and illegal fire-crackers, there was spontaneous singing, chants and humming and sparklers for the young and young at heart.

This New Year’s Eve, instead of making rash resolutions whilst under the influence of the afore-mentioned chardonnay, or regretful lamentations the next morning about “never drinking again”; this year it was a process. While sitting around the campfire, drinks in hand, somebody suggested the group might like to do something about making New Year’s resolutions; did everybody want to talk about the idea? An older woman with short red hair that stood out at irregular angles said she had been at a workshop before where they imbued their drinks with a thought or a resolution they wanted to make and drank it down so it became a part of them. The group generally liked this idea but some didn’t want to speak their idea or resolution aloud, so instead just focused on it and channelled the idea into their drink. Waiting, slightly open-mouthed for the opportunity and the courage, I held my thought in my mind for a couple of sips as I toasted the wishes and dreams of others around the fire. Then I breathed, “I want to take every opportunity to find joy and laughter in 2009.” Everyone raised their glasses and drank. “Cheers! I’ll drink to that!” And a peaceful smile has been playing at my lips ever since.

Season's bleetings

This time of year always brings out a little bit of the bah-humbug in me. Don't get me wrong, I love the catching up with friends, good food and good cheer but is it necessary that we do this to amongst whiny, tinny-voiced Christmas carols?

Not being an advocate of Christian festivals, I appreciate that maybe I'm being a bit biased but they're everywhere and they're HORRIBLE. Either 'canned-laughter' cheery or morose and I can't decide which is worse.

With that little rant off my chest, I should add that I've had a lovely 'season' so far. Friends and family joined us at our block for a Summer Solstice barbeque, we exchanged presents with family yesterday and Christmas day will be spent with my sister-in-law's family, after which I will really need to join the gym and watch my kilojoules! I'm also planning on a little pre-New Year's resolution because I have to submit some poems to the literary mag, Going Down Swinging before the end of the year. Deep breath, here goes nothing!

Season's greetings to everyone, whatever season you're celebrating!
Cheers,
Deb

Poetry under the Grandstand

Arriving at the Queen Elizabeth Oval, I parked a distance away (I didn't know any better) but it gave me time to breathe and quell my churning stomach before walking into the club rooms. The flurry of report writing I had found myself in over the past two weeks hadn't allowed me to think too much about the poetry reading and get myself in knots over it but once I got to the venue, the reality of it hit me. I was about to read my poetry in front of an audience, and an audience that included the likes of alicia sometimes, Nathan Curnow and Sean M Whelan! Not to mention the local poets with whom I would be reading whose accompishments also intimidated me, and those who were there as audience members whose accomplishments etc etc. What was I thinking? What was Tru thinking asking me to be involved? What was Nic thinking encouraging me to say yes? Neither of them put much thought into how out of my depth and drowning I would be!

Tru started the show with thank yous and a general overview of the program for the evening. And my stomach turned itself into a pretzel-shaped knot of anxiety. Tru introduced the first poet and my heart began to thud so loudly I thought it might put the poor woman off her reading. I don't think I heard her first couple of words and all that blood rushing around in my head was about to ruin my evening so I had a quick but very stern talking to my self-esteem and told it to get over itself. From then on the night ran smoothly. When Tru called upon me to read (even though Nic had to put a hand on my knee to stop me from leaping to my feet in over-anxious enthusiasm and my face burnt with embarrassment at my limited bio) I was able to walk reasonably calmly to the microphone and read my two poems. People laughed (at the funny bits), people clapped, I was relieved and high on 'I-did-it'.

Later, I was able to schmooze with alicia and Nathan and meet some lovely local people too. I'm pleased to report that nobody knew I was nervous (or at least they were all too polite to say so) and that my poems went over well.

Now I can't wait to do it again...

these are the days...

Spring days are hopeful happiness with the scent of approaching heat. They are orange and yellow bursting from blooms and carpetting every step we take towards new goals, changes and dreams. Spring is a quirky raised eyebrow that hints at sly amusement and sensuous invitation. Long languid bodies peel out of winter layers and chilled wine slides into crisp glasses on verandahs and front porch swings. Spring smiles at passerbys and reclines to wait to be overtaken by Summer.

A Poem: Now or Never

Maybe this is a good one to start with because it's how I'm feeling about the poetry reading - to stay and settle would be safer...

Now or Never

Maybe it’s now or never

Time to experience the exotic

To stay and settle would be safer

I’m ready to go and discover

Away from running hectic

Maybe it’s now or never

There are ties I don’t want to sever

Relationships that aren’t episodic

To stay and settle would be safer

Time is a fickle lover

Don’t want to leave out of panic

Maybe it’s now or never

Growing older dreams grown over

What is this need to hover?

To stay and settle would be safer

What makes youth run for cover

And hide in the dark feeling sick?

Maybe it’s now or never

To stay and settle would be safer.

A Poetry Reading

Next Friday I am going to be part of a poetry reading which is a collaborative effort between Bendigo Poets and the Going Down Swinging commissioned event called 'Static'.

I'm quite daunted and even a bit intimidated by the other names and their achievements. I sat reading through the Bios last night and felt sick at being included when I have so little to show for my writing efforts. I'm nestled amongst logie winners; published poets, short story writers and novelists; and generally fabulous people. I'm not sure what I'll have to contribute.

That said, I'm also very excited and really looking forward to it. I probably didn't need this distraction amongst report writing though...

Some poems that I'm considering to follow.