Tag Archives: memorial

Life, Death and Achieving Goals

So, I have once again committed the cardinal sin of the aspiring author. Neglecting my platform building yadda, yadda, yadda. But now, as the crazy months of summer begin to fade, I thought it would be a good time to return. Because this week has been about reflecting on life, acknowledging death and celebrating achieving goals.

It is important, for this first time in my life, I am seeing these things and being grateful for them in a context where it’s not all about me. Yes, the past few months have been crazy, but that is because I have spent so much time helping other people do what they can to live out the best life they can offer themselves. My own dreams and aspirations certainly haven’t been on the back burner, as I’ve actually continued to be consistent about getting up at 6am each morning and doing my 1500 words. I’ve even taken the plunge and started submitting again. But I am also starting to appreciate the joy that comes from building a close network of strong relationships where everyone is invested in giving each other a hand up when they can.

sunsetAnd this celebration of living a good life was brought to a poignant reminder this week when I attended the funeral of a friend who had finally lost a long battle with a brain tumour. It was my first humanist service and it was quite beautiful. The clear emphasis on celebrating life rather than mourning and resenting death seemed so appropriate. Never ever had I seen her complain about her lot in life or do anything other than live each day to the very best of her capabilities. People always imagine they will be tirelessly strong and positive in these kinds of life-altering scenarios, but few actually are when the chips are down. It was an inspiration to see; even though it took death to make me really aware of it.

Finally, in the spirit of appreciation, my sister has achieved a goal she has been working towards and I am so proud of her. Not just for the success, but for the completion of such an immense task in the face of odds which would make a normal person throw their hands up and walk away. The outcome is fantastic, but for me the privilege has been watching her take the journey and letting me walk with her some of the way. When she cracks open a bottle of champagne tonight, I will also raise a glass here, no doubt in the direction of the old man’s urn on the windowsill there, because I know he would have loved the chance to be as proud of her as I am.

A necessary hiatus

So, I have broken the cardinal sin of blogging: I have been inconsistent. It has been three weeks since my last post. I’m not sure what the blogging gods require in order to provide absolution, but let’s pretend it’s done.

Sadly, blogging would have been at the expense of something else, and everything I needed to do – all my other commitments – ranked higher compared to losing a couple of hours each week to maintain a consistent schedule. Of course, there was the alternative; churn something out on time at all costs, no matter how dreadful or false, knowing that only a handful of people read these anyway. Hi mom! Who am I kidding? There’s nothing in here interesting enough for my mom.

So, taking a break from blogging was part of a more sustained step back from social media in general. Why? Because it hasn’t been serving me. With the general election on this side of the pond and Hillary running for president on the other, I didn’t need the daily grind of news articles highlighting the general fear of women in politics. Yup, even though we’ve had the vote for ages, it’s still painfully obvious in the blatant sexism, objectification and willingness to throw in a nasty smear campaign. To be fair, that seems to be the tone of this election anyway regardless. It’s exhausting. And viewing it through social media such as Twitter (because I still believe Facebook to be the work of the devil so I don’t have to look at anything there), actually makes me less engaged, rather than more.

Because it actually encourages people to feel good about armchair politics.

To tweet their opinions, often brimming with 140 characters of righteous indignation, about a political candidate or a party when they can’t be bothered to actually join or donate to the party they claim to support. They don’t actually get off the couch and knock on doors, or get involved in any kind of political activism to actually change the world for the good of mankind. Yet somehow hitting send gives the brain the satisfying sensation that something has been done. In reality, nothing has changed. Even if you feel that you have shown some support, or awareness, the people who need that are unlikely to see it. Not like they would if you volunteered at your local food bank or soup kitchen, or actively put your ass on the line to improve race or religious relations in your community.

I am as guilty of this as anyone, of feeling this sense that hitting send means something real. I’ve faced up to the hard and painful fact it doesn’t. That I haven’t done anything other than opine. I’m doing here. The irony is not lost on me.

But that is the reality – harsh as it may sound – and in the current political climate, seeing more of it meant hitting the critical mass point to hammer the truth home to me. Some days, Twitter has been a downright angry place, and scrolling through my timeline feels like I’m being shouted at for ten minutes. What can I say about suffering in Nepal? Nothing, I live in one of the most tectonically stable countries in the world. I spent six months in New Zealand and a couple of hard quakes sent me running like a baby back home. What can I say about race relations in America? Nothing. I can have a vague sense of right or wrong, but I can’t feel like an opinion of mine would embrace the nuances of a situation when I’ve grown up without the weight of cultural history on my shoulders.

So, taking a break, assessing myself and my values honestly rather than in a way that simply makes me feel good and validated, was something I needed to do. Ultimately, I felt the need to write about it before normal posting resumes. If you’ve made it this far, then thank you for letting me share it with you.

The best city on earth: Sydney

Sydney Opera House

Given the events of this week, it seemed a perfect choice to do a Throwback Thursday to Sydney. Sydney was my home for a while a few years ago, and a place I’ve once again visited in the past six months. In fact, as I sat here twelve months ago, the plan was to be living in Sydney right now. So the siege this week was something I saw with the detached sense of someone who wasn’t there, but could quite easily  place myself at the scene mentally.

The ‘I’ll ride with you‘ hashtag, appearing so quickly and easily during the events, reminded me of why I love Australia (and Aussies) so much. While much of Europe takes its typical approach to these sorts of things – I’m thinking the approach that always seems to lead to war – and America certainly isn’t much better, Australia instead embraced the theory of mateship that it knows itself for. No one needed to feel unsafe because of the actions of a madman. We’re all in this together. Not send them back to their own country or they’re all coming over here and stealing our jobs/benefits. It is a different culture. A different world. One which is far away, but always in my heart.

This is how it looked when I first saw it and digital cameras were very much in their infancy. There is something about being in Sydney that is so unique – there is no way you can confuse it with any other part of the world:
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Sydney is my favourite city in the world. I’m not a huge fan of cities. I never dreamed as a kid of wrapping up all my possessions in a knapsack and leaving home to find my fortune with the big lights. But Sydney gets so many things right it’s hard not to fall in love with it a little bit more every time.

Sydney Water Views

Of course, the fallout from one madman’s events will continue to land for a while to come. I just hope that the people of Sydney are able to continue with their first response of compassion and understanding as the grief rolls through.

It’s no understatement that my time in Sydney went a long way towards shaping who I wanted to be and what I wanted from my life, in terms of quality, writing, experiences and relationships. And this summer, when I walked back to Manly Wharf, it was a place that still felt like home…

Manly Wharf

Christchurch City Drive (Pre and Post Earthquake)

So, I’m leaving Christchurch. There are a multitude of reasons, most of which are too boring to mention here, but the best way to explain is probably visually.

Whilst playing around on youtube, I found the following clip which was created before the earthquakes that have devastated the city. It made me think of the Christchurch that I visited last time. Not only that, it runs right along the area where I have been living the past few months. I was inspired to do the drive as it is now, and recorded the experience for posterity.

Pre-Earthquake:

This is what the same drive looks like, June 2014. It’s iPhone only I’m afraid, but much of the bounce is simply due to the warping of the roads:

It is a completely different world. Even so, this only captures a small part of it. It’s a shame that I couldn’t get them completely in sync due to the natural traffic variations, but you can still get the idea.

When A City Falls: Film review of the Christchurch earthquake

Firstly, I really enjoyed this film.

Secondly, I’m not sure I could have watched it if I had actually been in Christchurch for any of the earthquakes. The trauma of it would simply have been too much. All credit to those who were there and braved this film anyway.

When A City Falls

 

Opening with scenes from before the first September earthquake in 2010, I saw the Christchurch that I remember from my travels a decade ago. Calm, relatively peaceful. Actually quite English, in all the ways it used to market itself as.

For me, the power of this film comes from the fact there is no narrator. Other than a few captions to give some sense of date, the raw footage is allowed to tell the story itself. Gerard Smythe and his team put together film that did not shy away from the painful reality, but nor did it seek to sensationalise it. Over the course of a year, you see people get up, dust themselves off, only to be knocked right back down.

It doesn’t take long living in this city to know all these places and be able to relate to it on some level. The aftereffects of the earthquakes touch your lives daily here; there is no escape. Having seen this film, I have nothing but admiration for the people who, unlike me, are not outside observers to the aftermath, but the ones who still can – and often do – relive it like it was yesterday.

Link to the trailer can be found here: When A City Falls

Saying Goodbye to the Pallet Pavilion, Christchurch

I have said in previous posts that one of the most encouraging things about being in Christchurch is the inventive and creative ways they have come up with using the devastated empty spaces left over by the earthquake. The Re-Start Mall is still one of my favourites, but closest to me is the Pallet Pavilion. Sadly, this came to an end this weekend.

 

palletpavillion

 

The Pallet Pavilion is exactly what it says on the tin: a community event space built out of pallets. Part of the GapFiller project, it was one of many temporary pieces of architecture created by volunteers to utilise a space that would otherwise have remained a dull and depressing piece of waste ground.  It has also been a lot less temporary than first intended; so popular that it has been kept open until the cost has simply become too much.

Being halfway between my apartment and the library, I have probably walked past this structure more times than anywhere else in the city. From the moment I arrived it became part of my psychological landscape. I know that the next time I walk past it will be gone and that’s going to be a sad thing. But it also means that there is progress. The city around me is rebuilding even as I sit here, three months in, and it is ramping up to an even faster rate.

Created by a population that was coming together and building something out of nothing, I hope that spirit continues on as winter comes and the fourth anniversary of the biggest and original quake – a cracker with a magnitude of 7.1 – rolls around in September, with so much still left to do.

Three Years On, Remembering The Earthquake of 22nd Feb 2011

One thing it is impossible to ignore in Christchurch is the fact there was a big earthquake here. Even if you know nothing about it, just a simple walk around the CBD will hit you in the face with the enormity of it. Three years on, and so much of the city is still destroyed that it seems amazing that people could still feel optimistic.

Speaking to local people, there is a sense this year that whilst things will be sombre on this day, including a minutes silence across the city at 12:51pm to mark the moment the most devastating of the quakes hit, that it is time to look forward. That rebuilding, whilst slow, is underway and that progress will eventually be made.

I’ve always been fascinated by earthquakes and volcanoes so finding this time-lapse map of that day was a good way for me to get perspective of the scale. The first thirty seconds or so, nothing really happens, which actually gives a great sense of how there were no warnings. No sense that before the moment where the clock rolls round to 12:51 there is something big coming.

Something that would end up leaving the city looking like this (courtesy of google):

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Even some of those buildings are gone now, with others being demolished around me as we speak.

So yes, as a visitor to the city, I can see how hope can be a little thin on the ground sometimes, but people sure are trying their best.

 

Things To Do In Christchurch – Memorial: 185 Chairs

I actually stumbled across 185 Chairs by accident. From a distance, apparently a random collection of stuff on a street corner, but up close, a poignant memorial to those who lost their lives in the 2011 earthquake.

185chairs

 

Painted white and in all different shapes and sizes, artist Pete Majendie created a quiet space of reflection rising up from yet another space where the city remains desolate. 1 chair for everyone who lost their lives, designed to symbolise the different personalities and making it less anonymous than time tends to render these things.

I confess to shedding a tear as I stood there.