Celebrating Life……..and Love

With a mellowness in my heart, and I would like to think, as well in my inner soul,
I woke up on an October Sunday morning recently after one of the most beautiful weekends I have experienced. All right, it was actually past noon and I had slept in, as I should, on a lazy morning.

On the surface, it may have been just another series of social functions. However, stirring my inner cycle of strength and motivation, I realised that I have been juxtaposed with the right alignment of stars and planets to be sufficiently fortunate to attend, in a row, a series of celebrations and to be able to share in a series of the more important things of human existence. Not just mere things, I should correct myself, but in a true series of remarkable events.

All functions I had attended had one common element – joy and passion. I also strongly felt the sense of achievement celebrated over time, and the culmination of true understanding over time. This is reflected in a contented baby who smiles under his lengthy hair locks. There is the recently wedded couple who are so grateful – and amazed – that they found each other. There is a man who just came of age, so to speak, but who already long ago has such a profound positive effect on his family and friends.

The human heart dwells in symbolism and togetherness. The love of parents for their off spring can be sensed in the holding of a barbeque for the other adults who have come to love the child. The recount of humorous episodes in a young man’s life does not suppress the tender delight in appreciating a busy life from one to twenty one years. There is the quiet and profound mutual care for each other when a couple, very much in love, emphasise their wedding vows to allow each to grow as individuals, but to always be by each other’s side when doing so. Doves may be released in a Japanese-styled garden, or numerous balloons decorate a dining hall – they represent the love of being together, the deep satisfaction of unspoken understanding and the fun that life chooses to bestow.

In each function attended that weekend, there were the three generations gathered under one roof. New grandparents, or long time nannas who have an inner peace in their countenance, beaming over the gathering of the clan. There may be the awkward silence of sets of parents brought to sit with each other when they have nothing in common, except that their children chose to fall in love for each other. There is renewal in the bridal waltz. There is experience with a very cluey twenty something generation in the prime of their young lives. I could feel the comfort in the cocoons of unspoken care at each party. There was consideration from mates who bore the brunt of logistics organising the complexities of an all day wedding. This is more so personified by a sister who dearly missed not being able to talk to a sibling every day, as was possible not too long ago.

The vibes and feelings from a special 36 hours consolidated into a calming influence.
I went into auto mode as my subconscious digested all these messages exerting themselves in a heady mix. I did not have to make the effort to rationalise too much about these emerging thoughts. To be able to find true love is sublime. To then create a new generation, when and if they choose to do so, is to move into another expression of love. What is truly exquisite is to be able to see and realise how well your off spring have grown up to be.

The Curry Club

It's a cloudy afternoon, an easy looking day that threatened with impending rain but also promised hints of the weather cooling down. This group of work colleagues - and friends -had planned an outing to the local curry joint, more of an imposing complex with an adjoining pub and with intricate drawings of southern Indian sculptures. We looked forward to this opportunity of sitting down in the airy outdeck of the venue and savouring various concoctions and condiments, downed with - not beer this time - subcontinental styled pancakes called rotis. A few of us were really famished as we arrived, having being busy in the office for the whole morning.

The seven of us had not had an opportunity to gather and partake such food together for a long time. Each of us ordered a sampling of meat curries served with basmati rice and bottled water. I enjoyed the creaminess of the essentially Northern Indian curries, whether with lamb, tandoori chicken or a helping of salad. I quietly reflected that southern Indian food from Kerala and Tamil Nadu had less dairy and more the whiff and sensation of tropical spices. India is such a varied place with different sub-cultural groups from the Himalayas to the Indian Ocean.

Those present in our little group must have had varied experiences of what curry means, from the United Kingdom, South-east Asia to Zanzibar. The bento-styled thali (or plate) offered a wholesome meal in one go. Still, we needed what can be described as "something to wash the mouth" after the main meal. Pete and I chose the mango kulfi as dessert, with yoghurt in the blend. Ann-Marie and Alison selected Italian-influenced cuppacinno, while Katie had hot chocolate. John, who has been the strong encourager in this curry club, was as happy as me that this gathering had taken place. Chandra and I talked of the possibility of incorporating the king of fruits - durians - to the curry club, but then it would have taken the focus off our fav Asian food.

The Sheer Airiness of Meaninglessness

The emerging sunlight promises to come gradually, and then blasts full on, literally, like a spotlight shining suddenly into the calmness of his developing dream. Shucks, he had forgotten to close the window curtains – or did he leave it open on intention, to receive the benign effects of last night's moon glow?

Oh yes, another day, another promise of new things beginning. Or is it? What used to be the thing that made him want to jump out of bed and look forward to the possibilities of a new day, had just, well become, just mere possibilities.

His optimism had been progressively whittled by the cumulative acts of an uncaring culture, bred and nurtured by selfishness, the inability of most to see beyond the confines of their narrow thinking and the provincialism of a few go-getters who did not realise that they could not flex their perceived might beyond their little pond of existence.

He observed that most others had withdrawn into a kind of so-called protective shell in a knee-jerk reaction to an existence not offering growth beyond what they had already reached. Their resulting reduced expectations were perhaps a consequence not so much from a numbness that decided not to fight anymore, but to lie low and wait out the time they had been most probably given. Meanwhile the few controlled the many; the foolish could not recognize the wise and the superior did not acknowledge their inferiority and fear.

His routine became unbearable, the organized became oppressive. He searched for meaning to rediscover his motivation, but meaning became lost in the mundane, the necessary and the required. He began to see repetition, things copied in distractions, diversions and in the regimen of life. He tried to break free, but saw certain patterns, of maybe being used at times, of definitely being used on other occasions. He heard accounts of how wealth does not guarantee happiness, of how power can drive some to delusion and of how reaching out to others can lead to abandonment. What was the meaning of all this? It was meaningless, cruelly meaningless.

The more he gathered the disparate drifting things around his world, the more they seemed to randomly disperse. Is it better to just let all go, to allow things unplanned and to not over analyse? The trust he thought he could rely upon can be dissipated in one unanticipated disagreement. He treasured gestures of friendship and communication, but these all seemed to mean nothing after business hours. He could not stand the culture that cuts and divides life before and after working hours.

He felt excluded. He tried not to feel it like this, but when he thought of the best in others, some others treated him as if he was being viewed in the worst light, whether he deserved it or not. He felt there was a two-tier system, maybe more of a multiple layered system, where he was to just do the work and he did not matter more to "them" - those he tried to do more for than just the necessary. His views were not sought out to be understood, but just judged on a presumptuous basis, without being able for him to offer his side of the story.

He was rudely told off, even when he had no intentions of doing anything of the sort he was suspected or accused of. It dawned on him that there was a set of rules for him, and a kinder set for others. He saw how some could willingly and smilingly do some things for others, but not for him. He never asked for gratitude, for anything in return, but just for a gesture of fairness and being not accused of things that he had no inkling of. He was reminded of unfair things, even if he had not asked for them. His love shown to some was returned in haughtiness and lack of consideration. His care was returned with disdain, and his heart finally broke.

The pieces of his heart flew into nothingness, just to escape the underlying pain. He joined the masses, who, preceding him, had withdrawn into this protective shell he had earlier observed from the outside. Now he was inside this same shell, and he did not even realize this. But it felt good. Really good, in a sort of meaningless, floating way.

Inspiration from Suzy Domingues

I would like to share with you some of the image creations of Suzy Domingues, whom I am privileged to meet and know through mates.

Before Take-off


Wood Mushroom (above)

Rainbow over cloudsea

Native Plant

Pelican Dance

A Corner of Paradise

Messages from the Past (above)



Sitting in the Southern Heaven (above)


Vista of the Tasman Sea