Last year, I published the speech from my NSW launch of Crying in the Car. As a child, what was my desire? My ambition? Here’s an excerpt from that speech.
Before I even really realised what I was doing, my pen was up, my paper was out, and I wrote two words.
Write + Travel
Once these words were down I had a kind of epiphany. I remembered that when I was young I used to think I wanted to be an archaeologist or a flight attendant – but I really didn’t, and those aspirations soon evaporated. I realised they were emblematic of the greater desire to be somewhere ‘out there’ in the world, to travel and see it. I think it also explains why I was good at languages in school.
As for writing, it was wrapped up in a bigger parcel of a more general idea of being creative, of somehow being part of the other world of books and stories. It took a little while to come to this realisation, not before I deliberated taking other paths… I went off to university to do an Arts degree in the late 1990s – right around the economic rationalistic times of the Howard government when the wisdom of undertaking such a degree was being questioned – I felt settled and on course, at least in this part of my life, when others weren’t going so well.
So that is a snapshot of my formative years, before the internet, before social media, before blogging. And while it may not initially appear obvious, these two words continue to be major threads, thanks to and because of blogging. In the beginning, the blog was a means of keeping up my writing practice and of being an accessible and potent means of travelling – even if virtually – across the world into the homes and lives of people, and these people in return, as I read their stories, travelled to me and touched me and became a part of who I was. This has always remained as one of the more magical parts of blogging: these people are not strangers.
What does this have to do with today’s post? Well, I have always had a healthy respect for the cosmic comedy that can play out in our lives, for good or ill; I believe they’re great learning opportunities, a chance to acknowledge our place, feel gratitude for our gifts, while thinking about the future.
The other weekend, we awoke to spring in Melbourne. Wind-blasted, warm, pollen-full air; hat wearing weather. It was early and out of the blue I suggested we go to a place we’ve never been before, ideally by the bay. Confession: we’ve never taken the kids to the water in Melbourne. This is due to laziness and a certain misplaced snobbery that the beaches we’re more familiar with are better. But this day, I cast caution to the – very real! – wind, asked some friends on Facebook where a good place for breakfast was in the area, and we set off.
After eating, we went exploring, turning down a side street and I glimpsed the foamy waves in the distance. That sight has always thrilled me, even as a child. We parked the Ford and went for a walk along the footpath.
Looking towards Brighton
The West Gate Bridge in the distance
Lovely, green Elwood
Adam pointing out ships in the bay.
As I was taking the photographs I had a sense of familiarity with the place, even though – as I said – we’d never been there before. Something was nagging me and I couldn’t quite work out what or why I was having this feeling of significance.
It only struck me later, once we got home and I was looking over the course map for the Melbourne Marathon (again). The red star on the below map is where we had our walk in the park (the sand was like glass on our skin, thanks to the wind, so the walk was brief).
This is taken from the Melbourne Marathon website. The 25km turnaround marker point is the exact location we’d been visiting.
This realisation had me backtracking in my mind: if I hadn’t had the idea of the trip, if I hadn’t asked on Facebook where to go, then that connection might never have happened.
It was good for me psychologically. You see, the rules of the Melbourne Marathon have changed this year – if I don’t clear the 22km mark by 9.40am I won’t even be running this far. I will be classified as a ‘slow marathon runner’ (well, that’s no big surprise) and will be made to run back up St Kilda Rd to complete an alternate loop outside the MCG. Now I’ve been down this end, I really want to return when I’m running.
Let’s see if that happens, shall we?
Travelling – helping people make connections since forever.
This is the third and final post about the Ford Territory Titanium I’ll be featuring on the blog. With sadness, I’ll be returning it soon. I’d like to thank Ford Australia and Kidspot Voices of 2014 for the opportunity – it came in to our lives this year when we needed it. It has the technical functionality that makes an IT professional like Adam almost combust with excitement. From accessible USB ports to the very responsive Bluetooth connectivity (best I’ve experienced in a car yet), we’ve felt very ‘tricked out’.
Thank you again.
