The Sense of Just Being

We work smart and we play hard. Then we long for a time out with no structure, no deadlines, no compulsion and no limitations.

The day begun with passing rainy showers with the occasional lightning. I could hear rumblings from the sky, and felt the heavy weight of humidity hanging there, undecided and restless. Never mind, what a good opportunity to have a lazy start on a Saturday morning.

When I had enough of being in a state of neither full sleep nor an awakened state, I made the coffee and got mesmerised by the on-going and live reporting on telly from two different cities in southern Asia. Travellers frantic on getting out of a city airport that had been occupied by protesters in their thousands. Hotel guests trapped in the rooms they checked in a few nights ago but only now had been released by police and the army. What has the world come to?

I lazed around the lounge reading for leisure, instead of some required purpose. The skies still looked dark and uneasy outside. I loved looking at the wet grass and plants outside through the clear glass - and wondered what the bugs, snails and insects were up to after a rather messy and wet night. This was like Friday afternoons at the end of a long and tiring school week - I was dwelling again totally immersed in the art of just being.

Then it was time to get the chores done. Oh ya, how long was this bliss to last?

Anthony at K Mart in Shellharbour gave me a big smile as I sauntered up to his check out counter to pay something. He had been working all morning and still carried on a benign look of welcome to me. Okay, all my chores for that day were completed.

Back to the sense of just being.

At Sydney's Rhodes, I ran around the display of new season cherries, peaches and nectarines. I had a scheduled appointment late in the evening for dinner, so I gave myself a treat of mid-afternoon tea, with pannarocca cake and cappuccino at a cafe. No hassles, no need to make small conversation - I was just in transit from Wollongong on the way to Eastwood, 90 km away one way.

I was on a roll - why not do some light shopping? I locked my intended purchases in a collapsible food cover, an upmarket onion cutter that promises no tears and a filtered water bottle. I could imagine for whom some of these items could be for.
At Eastwood Mall, before dinner, I went on an exotic groceries and food shopping rampage - getting durians, durian flavoured cake and fresh noodles, things more difficult to get in my neighbourhood.

And then the rain and thunder came back around twilight. I was lucky, I was already enjoying a Hong Kong styled course sit down dinner hosted by a niece. There were visiting relatives in town and what a good way to dabble back in relaxing conversation. No deadlines, no pressure. I could just be myself.

A Touch of Lisboa

It had been a rainy and windy morning. The leaden skies threatened to colour our inner selves, but with a touch of spice, a touch of laughter and a touch of custard, that Sunday turned out to be any thing other than cloudy.

In an unassuming suburb of inner city Sydney, I was brought down memory lane. Joyce, Charmaine and I may have started with dessert at breakfast, but we continued to see familiar things from our past to enrich the culinary journey and tour of things essentially Portuguese. Tarts with caramel (pasteis nata) in La Patisserie sat side by side with ricotta creations and other well crafted pastries. I could feel a bright and light sense of homeliness created in this bakery. Fernando insisted on a hands-on demonstration of pressing the thin dough in little flat cups. He showed his innate love of his role in the kitchen through his humorous interaction with each of us, When he chatted, even in a group, it was as if he was talking only to you.

There were passing showers but it did not rain on our parade. The sight of smoked and cured ham and other meats hanging neatly in a row dominated the butcher's shop that we dropped by in. And Christmas is approaching. There were beans and olives to sample,spicy meats and chizoro being cooked over a small traditional device. I finally saw the difference between Spanish and Portuguese cooking ware - was it the ornamental design?

Salted cod from Norway (bacalhau) brought up memories in me of the more intense version found in Penang, Goa and Melaka (kiam hoo). I did not come across any curries in Petersham, but the extent of influence in cuisine, social niceties and culture, arising from the sailing adventures led by Vasco Da Gama around Africa and then across Asia hundreds of years ago, had formed many common beads in invisible links that could be found in the suburb's Cafe Brasilla to the sardines soaked in tomato and chili at the nearby local supermarket.

At De Silvas, at the corner of New Canterbury Road and Audley Street, we had swords pointed downwards on pieces of bread used to capture the marinade dripping down from grilled chunks of meat. The compulsory sardines came out with an option to bite into them with fine bones and all. The garlic prawns reminded me of the French and Italian versions, though there were subtle differences in the subtle flavours.




In another shop, I was captivated by the rose cake, with Belgian chocolate utilised to form a wall around an inner centre of whatever cake you preferred - Madeira, chocolate mud or butter. At the local liquor shop, there were several varieties of wine from Portugal and we sampled those that are normally drunk while eating shellfish (vino verde). Seafood, sweets and preserved meats - they may reflect the moods and fashions of another time, another place, but it was all combined with good company and a relaxing feel that weekend day and which transcended slightly confronting weather and the ability to eat or drink so much within a few hours. We even had good coffee and tea back in Charmaine's house, though far removed from that little spark of Portugal in Australia.

The Most Relaxing State

Researchers and scientists have tried to study and analyse it. They may even have tried to replicate it. However, this is not a matter for sequential breakdown or controlled experiments. This is more of a case of a personal dimension, a moment of not the meeting of the stars and the moon in the heavens, but the alignment of the right physical, psychological and physiological elements in a hallmark moment belonging to the inner soul.

Many strive for this state - when both body and mind are caught up in a feeling of content. This may arise strangely enough after we have been put through much pressure and challenge, and on overcoming them, we glide into another world inside ourselves, when the frailties and temporariness of external things are of mere relative unimportance, and our whole internal navigation and sensory system suddenly bask in the realisation of the true dimension and purpose of existence.

Lounging on a sofa, after a week of my adrenalin rushing for both the right and wrong reasons, after my subconscious had been worked overtime pondering on the games energy-depleting people play and after achieving things despite the roadblocks, the moment came. There was dire need for housekeeping ( hey, what did I expect after coming home late working my heads off in the office) but I and my goldfish were still barely being fed in the looming disorder ( haha, maybe due to my penchant for over stocking on groceries rather than practising the Dell just-in-time customer delivery system). They did not matter. The totally unexpected feeling of things going right, despite the unreasonable rumblings of the rabble and riff-raff, overcame me, with a smile in my heart.

My body agreed. I could feel my breathing patterns wallowing in joy. I am told that a lack of the right challenge can also lead to boredom and discontentment. I know myself that equally an unnecessary level of undeserved irritations does distract from my true path. Fran reminded me to detach. Shell once said that if I have to go out to enjoy on a weekend, and the house is in a mess, just go out, Kevin, and the mess can wait. On that lounge, these two reminders to me rang so true. The unnecessary, unrequired and undeserved irritations can wait. Letting go suddenly became an experience, not a cliche.

So the storm and the billowing winds can rage outside. People aggressively intent on being difficult to me can go on raging by themselves and clean up their own mess. The night flows on unimpeded with a purpose and satisfaction.