Sunday, April 25, 2004
ANZAC Day
Australians need no reference to understand the meaning of ANZAC, after all, it is considered by most to be our most important national holiday and far more significant than Australia's official birthday (January 26, the day when a fleet of British naval ships landed a heap of unwanted jail-birds in Sydney Cove and stole this country from its original inhabitants), but for readers outside Australia, ANZAC Day commemorates the first landing of Australian and New Zealand armed forces at Gallipoli in Turkey during World War I. Here our troops bravely faced down a superior force occupying the high ground until just about all of them were killed. The only other really important national day (although it's not even a holiday in most States) is Melbourne Cup Day in November - that's when the whole country stops working for a couple of hours to watch a horse race. Yes, looked at like this, we do have very strange preoccupations in this country.
But I digress. ANZAC Day, we believe, signifies the best of what it means to be Australian. The spirit of courage, obedience and duty to God, King and Country that inspired 60,000 young men (most of whom had never left their own small town, let alone this sparsely populated country) to answer the British Empire's call to arms and to give up their lives in defence of freedom; in foreign lands, so far from their homes, families and all they held dear.
No matter what Australians feel about war, there is a clear sense of pride in our fallen warriors. Whether in hindsight they should have answered the call or not is not the issue, the important point is that according to the conventional wisdom of the day, these men gave up everything, to defend their homes, their families and their way of life. That they fought fairly and bravely is unquestioned by old allies and foes alike - the Turkish people have even named the beach where the first troops landed ANZAC Cove in their honour, and every year the Turkish Government hosts a dramatic dawn service there on ANZAC Day. Today 15,000 people attended that service alone.
And in every small town and large city in Australia (and probably in New Zealand as well) many thousands more watch the sun rise on April 25 as a lone bugler trumpets the Reveille, or attend street marches and church services with a common theme.
For me, Scottish/Australian singer/songwriter Eric Bogle sums up my feelings about ANZAC in his moving tribute The Gift of Years where the singer returns to Gallipoli '75 years down the track' to thank his mate for 'the gift of years'. Bogle has written a lot of insightful songs about the first World War and it's worth checking them out.
But across Australia on ANZAC Day, it's these words that are spoken with reverence, awe and gratitude:
They shall grow not old,
As we that are left grow old,
Age shall not weary them,
Nor the years condemn,
At the going down of the sun,
And in the morning
We will remember them.
But I digress. ANZAC Day, we believe, signifies the best of what it means to be Australian. The spirit of courage, obedience and duty to God, King and Country that inspired 60,000 young men (most of whom had never left their own small town, let alone this sparsely populated country) to answer the British Empire's call to arms and to give up their lives in defence of freedom; in foreign lands, so far from their homes, families and all they held dear.
No matter what Australians feel about war, there is a clear sense of pride in our fallen warriors. Whether in hindsight they should have answered the call or not is not the issue, the important point is that according to the conventional wisdom of the day, these men gave up everything, to defend their homes, their families and their way of life. That they fought fairly and bravely is unquestioned by old allies and foes alike - the Turkish people have even named the beach where the first troops landed ANZAC Cove in their honour, and every year the Turkish Government hosts a dramatic dawn service there on ANZAC Day. Today 15,000 people attended that service alone.
And in every small town and large city in Australia (and probably in New Zealand as well) many thousands more watch the sun rise on April 25 as a lone bugler trumpets the Reveille, or attend street marches and church services with a common theme.
For me, Scottish/Australian singer/songwriter Eric Bogle sums up my feelings about ANZAC in his moving tribute The Gift of Years where the singer returns to Gallipoli '75 years down the track' to thank his mate for 'the gift of years'. Bogle has written a lot of insightful songs about the first World War and it's worth checking them out.
But across Australia on ANZAC Day, it's these words that are spoken with reverence, awe and gratitude:
They shall grow not old,
As we that are left grow old,
Age shall not weary them,
Nor the years condemn,
At the going down of the sun,
And in the morning
We will remember them.
Friday, April 23, 2004
Blogger Idol Week 14 Top 5 picks
Cliff's very personal and powerful witness to spiritual awakening
Not so bitchy: Fresh, thoughtful and outspoken this one doesn’t toe the Christian line
Rasita’s simple tribute to Grandma is touching
Even if God won’t make Tim’s coffee carafe whole again – Tim’s still got high hopes for his soul
Harmless Takes an academic approach and researches the source for a well-reasoned entry
Not so bitchy: Fresh, thoughtful and outspoken this one doesn’t toe the Christian line
Rasita’s simple tribute to Grandma is touching
Even if God won’t make Tim’s coffee carafe whole again – Tim’s still got high hopes for his soul
Harmless Takes an academic approach and researches the source for a well-reasoned entry
Sunday, April 18, 2004
Spirituality
This is my entry for week 14 of blogger idol on the theme of spirituality
I'm squatting beside a pool of clear spring water. Chocolate mud softly squeezes between my toes and I watch it cover the tiny green fronds of some amphibious ground-creeping plant. It's cool, shaded and dim here but sunlight filters through ferns and pierces the water, lighting the multi-coloured pebbles that lie on the sandy bottom of the pool. The low sandstone cliff opposite is dark with water emanating from a small spring.
My 9 year old son splashes happily naked, posturing and searching for crayfish beneath rocky ledges. The cold water raises goose bumps on his skinny body.
I am at peace; at one with nature.
Spirituality to me is this singular linkage with nature's bounty. It contains all kindness, beauty, purity and love. It needs no dogma or religious interpretation. It is me and I am it - a single soul in harmony with creation.
clarification (as the papers say)
The written word is sometimes a terrifyingly inexact thing. My last post contained musings on the differing natures of people and how these natures affect the dynamics of relationships. It contained examples gleaned from many years past and was not directed at any particular person.
Since posting it, two people close to me have remarked that they thought they knew who some of the examples referred to. They got it wrong. Neither this person, nor her children featured in any of the examples. I can understand them thinking she might - she is definitely an 'obliger' but I have to say that she pretty much proves the exception to my rather broad-based premise and she is the last person in the world I would criticize or wish to hurt. Thankfully I don't think she reads blogs but it just goes to show how careful you have to be when expounding on your own half-baked theories in the blog.
Since posting it, two people close to me have remarked that they thought they knew who some of the examples referred to. They got it wrong. Neither this person, nor her children featured in any of the examples. I can understand them thinking she might - she is definitely an 'obliger' but I have to say that she pretty much proves the exception to my rather broad-based premise and she is the last person in the world I would criticize or wish to hurt. Thankfully I don't think she reads blogs but it just goes to show how careful you have to be when expounding on your own half-baked theories in the blog.
Saturday, April 17, 2004
Pay-back time
There appear to me to be two basic types of people in the world.
Obliging people have lots of friends, they are always doing good turns for others, going out of their way to be hospitable, caring and sharing. Loners are basically selfish keeping to themselves, asking nothing of anyone and offering nothing to anyone. Problems tend to crop up when the obliger meets the loner.
The loner makes it known that nothing is expected, but at the same time, will usually accept whatever help, hospitality etc is offered. The obliger endlessly alters their own arrangements in the name of friendship, offers meals, a bed, a lift, babysitting but in the long run, the obliger expects the same behaviour of the loner. The favours are eventually called in. This leaves the loner feeling confused and guilty - this person has given so much but it does not suit the loner to change arrangements at the last minute, to put aside their own activities at the request of the obliger.
Requests can be downright discomfitting and often require favours not just to the obliger, but to their children. I was once asked by an obliger I'd stayed with to falsify her daughter's residential address to mine and obtain a drivers licence for her, another asked me to take up my whole lunch hour to walk to an out of the way shop to change some unwisely purchased item of underwear. Being asked to provide a bed for a couple of nights or a couple of weeks for their children may not seem terribly onerous when you've been the beneficiary of their hospitality so many times; but it seems these kids are always drunks, drug addicts or have unruly children of their own.
In my own defence, I must say I'm always happy to return the actual favour I've asked for - that is they are welcome to stay with me.
A work colleague recently offered me some necklaces she was throwing out because ' they are not my style any more, but they are yours'. I accepted - what else could I do - the necklaces were quite nice. I didn't need them but I thanked her profusely and made sure she saw me wearing them. The first time she did, she let me know what she wanted in return. Another former work colleague offered to take my then teenage son on a skiing trip. After going through the 'are you really sure; it's very nice of you' routine and eventually accepting on behalf of my son I was told I could pay half the petrol and buy him a carton of beer!
Possibly the best one came a few years ago when a young, unkempt man of dubious mental state turned up at my door - 'I met ... in a pub in ...' he said, naming a small country town, 'told him I was coming to Wollongong and he said you'd give me a bed for a few nights till I get settled in.' This guy seemed to have no visible means of support and was quite odd to my way of thinking. I fed him, ascertained that he did have the name of a refuge where he could stay and dropped him off there. Unfriendly; selfish - yes, but I wasn't sure I'd live to tell the tale if he moved in.
I give up. I'm a loner. I don't ask them to go out of their way. I may ask if it is ok to visit them and stay for a few nights but I make sure I pay my way and don't expect lifts, babysitting or other favours, even meals. Still, I'm weak. When they offer, I accept... somehow it just never occurs to me that pay-back time is just around the corner. And when I refuse - I feel so wretchedly guilty!
Obliging people have lots of friends, they are always doing good turns for others, going out of their way to be hospitable, caring and sharing. Loners are basically selfish keeping to themselves, asking nothing of anyone and offering nothing to anyone. Problems tend to crop up when the obliger meets the loner.
The loner makes it known that nothing is expected, but at the same time, will usually accept whatever help, hospitality etc is offered. The obliger endlessly alters their own arrangements in the name of friendship, offers meals, a bed, a lift, babysitting but in the long run, the obliger expects the same behaviour of the loner. The favours are eventually called in. This leaves the loner feeling confused and guilty - this person has given so much but it does not suit the loner to change arrangements at the last minute, to put aside their own activities at the request of the obliger.
Requests can be downright discomfitting and often require favours not just to the obliger, but to their children. I was once asked by an obliger I'd stayed with to falsify her daughter's residential address to mine and obtain a drivers licence for her, another asked me to take up my whole lunch hour to walk to an out of the way shop to change some unwisely purchased item of underwear. Being asked to provide a bed for a couple of nights or a couple of weeks for their children may not seem terribly onerous when you've been the beneficiary of their hospitality so many times; but it seems these kids are always drunks, drug addicts or have unruly children of their own.
In my own defence, I must say I'm always happy to return the actual favour I've asked for - that is they are welcome to stay with me.
A work colleague recently offered me some necklaces she was throwing out because ' they are not my style any more, but they are yours'. I accepted - what else could I do - the necklaces were quite nice. I didn't need them but I thanked her profusely and made sure she saw me wearing them. The first time she did, she let me know what she wanted in return. Another former work colleague offered to take my then teenage son on a skiing trip. After going through the 'are you really sure; it's very nice of you' routine and eventually accepting on behalf of my son I was told I could pay half the petrol and buy him a carton of beer!
Possibly the best one came a few years ago when a young, unkempt man of dubious mental state turned up at my door - 'I met ... in a pub in ...' he said, naming a small country town, 'told him I was coming to Wollongong and he said you'd give me a bed for a few nights till I get settled in.' This guy seemed to have no visible means of support and was quite odd to my way of thinking. I fed him, ascertained that he did have the name of a refuge where he could stay and dropped him off there. Unfriendly; selfish - yes, but I wasn't sure I'd live to tell the tale if he moved in.
I give up. I'm a loner. I don't ask them to go out of their way. I may ask if it is ok to visit them and stay for a few nights but I make sure I pay my way and don't expect lifts, babysitting or other favours, even meals. Still, I'm weak. When they offer, I accept... somehow it just never occurs to me that pay-back time is just around the corner. And when I refuse - I feel so wretchedly guilty!
