I can't sleep…
At church a baby girl was baptized. She lay quietly in the vicar’s arms, absorbed in contemplation of things around her, her eyes very wide and bright, her hands spread like stars.
— Helen Garner, One Day I’ll Remember This: Diaries 1987–1995 (Text Publishing Company, October 12, 2021)
Post inspired by Jay, Lizzy & Ellie. Thinking of you. Photo Credit: Pexels
Slept terribly again last night. What’s new!? I plugged in Helen Garner’s last diary in her trilogy and listened until I finally dropped off. My last recollection was her voice whispering: “In fifteen minutes I’ll be thirty-nine years old.” Her words echoing…in 15 minutes, I’ll be…in 15 minutes, I’ll be…in 15 minutes, I’ll be….
Jan Grue: “But the days slip by at an uncomfortable speed.”
Christian Wiman: “Time, that great grinding wheel of the world rolls over you…too eroded to notice.“
I walk.
The World feels like it has rolled over me, and then back again. Heavy step, heavy shoulders, heavy backpack, just all Heavy. And, Tired. Of this same track. Same trees. Same hut. Just more of the Same.
It’s now been 1,268 consecutive (almost) morning walks at Cove Island Park. Like in a row.
I’m about to turn back – HAD ENOUGH – and I see them in the distance. And here they come.
Think Pegasus without the wings. This dog could fly. How many times have I seen these two on this track? Go introduce yourself! Go say hello! Do it!
Continue reading “Walking. With Spyro.”
I was trying in this dream to compose a sentence that would encapsulate the existence of this plant: its flowers were an explosive red, it grew with vigour, its branches sprang out from its stem in a satisfying, meaningful shape. The fact that it grew on the very rim of nothingness was of no concern to it. It grew, it was firmly rooted, it blossomed, it was.
— Helen Garner, One Day I’ll Remember This: Diaries 1987–1995.
Notes:
Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash
Women can endure things and keep going because our lives are made up of small practical physical tasks, and no matter how lonely or sad or humiliated you are, you do the dishes, or wash the clothes, and you come to the end of a small task and see a small result.
— Helen Garner, One Day I’ll Remember This: Diaries 1987–1995.
Notes: Portrait of Helen Garner from The New Daily
Church. My sister is one of the servers. Unaware that I’m there, she approaches the spot at the altar rail where I’m kneeling with my hands out. She stops in front me, carrying the big silver chalice, looks down, recognises me. She rocks back on her heels, her face is still with astonishment, then she smiles and I have to keep my eyes on her black shoes. My lips quiver against the rim of the chalice so hard that I’m afraid I won’t be able to swallow.
— Helen Garner, from a diary entry in 1987 when she was 44 in One Day I’ll Remember This: Diaries 1987–1995.
Notes: Portrait of Helen Garner in 1984 by Ray Kennedy via smh.com.au. ‘A poet in plain prose’: Reflection on Helen Garner’s amazing opus by Kerrie O’Brien.