I have a story about four books. It pertains to life, desire,love and probably surfing in an
obscure way.It is only partly written as yet. The story is about books and the
strange occurrences and influences of four particular books over a short
period of time in my life. This may or may not interest you. It might be completely
inane to you. Whatever. I plan to present this over four consecutive posts.
I have a history of posting on this site in an idiom that some, possibly many, deem
inappropriate. Ramblings about massacres and population density etc and postings
that have inflamed the passion of of the RED THUMB. Accepting criticism I have
resolved in future posts to hand control over to the democratic process. In other
words it is all up to you. I envisage an input of about four separate posts. That
should be sufficient to complete the tale. If you are interested in the tale of four
books then press the green thumb. If not.....use the red.
Four books
Books are an integral part of my life. I love reading and pity the people that will not or
cannot indulge themselves in the magic and mystery of books. The following is a true
tale of four books that came into my life and the effect that they had. Some will
consider the happenings coincidental and insignificant; others will recognise the
presence of something greater and imminently more influential.
The serendipity factor.
Book one.
I was fortunate enough at one stage of my career to spend six weeks in Penrith NSW
doing a locum at Nepean Private Hospital. Fortunate I say because it allowed me to
travel most weekends to Sydney. Having lived in Perth for a large part of my life I
found Sydney exciting and interesting as well as striking. The harbour and northern
beaches where breathtakingly beautiful and I spent many hours roaming her streets
and foreshores. Fortunate also because I was able to treat myself to the surf and
also numerous games of golf. Being away from family and responsibilities left me free
to play each weekend. Because I had flown from Perth I didn’t have a car so I tended
to use public transport.
Get to the point you may well be saying.
What has this to do with books you may be wondering.
This is some boring waffle about himself may be your thoughts.
Well here it is then.
The first book.
I would play golf at a course in the foothills of the Blue Mountains. A lovely course
and challenging. Walking to the train station one fine day heading for the course the
thought occurred to me that I was being short-sighted. Here was an opportunity for
me to explore Sydney and indulge my golf habit at the same time. Rather than play at
the same course very weekend I should look around for other courses thereby having
my game and seeing Sydney as well. However it then further occurred to me. I
didn’t know where the courses were. Because I depended on public transport I would
need to know the addresses and locations of Sydney courses. As I was mulling on
these weighty matters I came to a street corner. Turning the corner I passed by a
bulk rubbish collection outside a house. On the top of the bulk rubbish collection was
a pile of books. On top of the pile of books was a book that was a specialist book.
What I mean by that is it was produced for a unique portion of the Australian
population. Targeted at those that were interested in a specific thing. It was a golf
digest that listed the location and addresses of every golf course in Australia. Barely
minutes after asking the question was the answer provided
Insignificant? coincidental?
Have we read all this just to find out that you might be saying? As you
will see (if you bother to come back) it was to play a part in another more worthy
meeting.
To be continued, if the thumbs decree.
Book two
There is a danger in writing and in life of overstating a situation. There is a propensity
to exaggerate the height, the width, the enormity of things. The fish was THIS long
the waves were this BIG etc. I fear that this may be so with The Four Books. That
some will expect a revelation or enlightenment of sorts. That some will think that the
reason for posting this is to make a salient point. Well yes it is, in some way but don’t
expect grandeur. There are no car chases. No saving of dolphins. Like Seinfeld it
really is a story about nothing.
There was a wonderful second hand record and book shop in Penrith. In it I found a
remarkable book. Written by an Irish woman it told of the unenviable existence she
had endured. Sexually molested as a child, raised by a drunken thief, she found
herself on the streets as a young woman. Pack raped by four assailants her life was a
litany of woe. Yet strangely enough it was the making of her. Familiar with life on the
streets, she found time later when her life had turned for the better, to help street
kids. She eventually found her way to Vietnam, post war and found kids outside her
hotel living on insects. She established a shelter for street kids and that
now has grown to a medical centre, school, outreach programs, well digging etc.
I read the book and felt transfixed by it. I wanted to be part of this. It was so
powerful and inspiring.
She was the proof to the saying “It’s not what happens to you, that matters, but
what you do with what happens to you”
The book is called Bridge Across My Sorrows by Christina Noble. Her organisation is
called the Christina Noble Children’s Foundation.
When I returned to Perth I was caught up in work and family again and the book and
its message became secondary. The desire to be involved was still there but buried
by the day to day traffic.
My daughter phoned from Melbourne
She needed a co driver to bring her car and belongings back across the Nullarbor to
Perth.
Was I interested? Of course I was.
I flew to Melbourne and set about helping my daughter pack years of her life into a
Mitsubishi Hatchback.
A surprise!
Because it is my birthday, my daughter has arranged a get together at an outdoor
beer garden. It is a get together for her, but being from out of town I know very few
of the guests.
I find myself across the table from an attractive woman. We engage in conversation
and in due course I tell her my views of the wonder of travel. The serendipity that
can occur. I relate the story of the golf book on the bulk rubbish collection.
I then ask her what she does.
She tells me that she is the Australian representative of the Christina Noble Children’s
foundation.
I stand up and hug her.
The Third Book
This one is just strange. I can’t explain the books’ importance or even its effect
really. I certainly looked at it and read passages that seemed applicable to our
circumstances but I can’t say it had much influence in what we were about. The only
thing I can think of is that it was a sign that there was someone or something out
there looking out for us and what we were about.. What else could you think?.
My daughter had spent years working in Melbourne. She had prospered and
accumulated accordingly. The puzzle had now become how to pare down her valued
possessions to a parcel small enough to fit into a blue 2000 model Mitsubishi Mirage.
Valued was the key word. Most of her things were distributed to friends or the poor
yet there still remained a substantial stash that needed to be packed. Tiring of the
unpleasant task of deciding what to keep and what to discard and how to fit the
result of that debate in to the car I opted out. A walk in the night air appealed and I
set out through the suburbs. About a kilometre from where we were staying I came
to a small shopping centre. Amongst the buildings was a second hand op shop type
store. The type that has a chute for after hour deliveries from altruistic, benevolent
people that may have something to contribute. On the footpath outside the store lay
a book. It is easy to assume that someone attempting to contribute to the greater
good had misdirected their largesse resulting inadvertently in the book coming to rest
in clear public view.
I have already told you I love books. I picked it up and to be honest I can’t remember
my reaction. As I said earlier this isn’t a revelation or some sort of life changing tome.
It isn’t a book of wisdom or the secret to eternal life. No, yet It is much more than
that in a sense. It is relevant. Intensely, appropriately, relevant.
It is The Packing Book by Judith Gilford.
I was wrong. The Packing book actually is a revelation. To quote: “Judith
Gilford offers travelers a simple yet radical idea: it really is possible to pack
everything you need into a single carry-on bag; all that's required is planning”.
It surely is a coincidence to walk away from a packing puzzle only to find ad hoc an
instruction manual on packing.
Or is it?
Here it is.
The fourth book
The wrap up, the reason for this being written.
Unfortunately I can’t tell you the name of the author or even the name of the book. I
could probably look it up but really neither matter because it is the message that it
imparted that is what this is all about. The book was an autobiography by an
Australian woman. She had been raised to a simple life in a quiet country town and
had worked her way from there up into a prominent position in Australian politics.
Powerful and wealthy she ascribed her success to one basic tenet. One her father
had taught her. It was this.
Step up to the plate.
This didn’t mean eating more.
It is a baseball term meaning stepping up to present yourself to bat. To make yourself
available. Her philosophy involved finding her goal and instead of waiting for
opportunity to knock, she would actively pursue it.
I read the book during a quiet period at work. For a while I had toyed with the idea of
getting into kite surfing. Around that time it was still a relatively young sport. Now
seemed like a good opportunity to step up to the plate.. Taking my prompt from the
book I downloaded 20 pages off the net about kite surfing. How to kite surf, what
kite to use in what conditions, right board etc. Looking through the phone book I
found the number of a local kite surfing teacher. Finishing work I adjourned to a local
club where I met my wife at a social gathering for her work mates. The first person I
met at the gathering was a workmate of hers. The second person I met was the
colleague’s boyfriend. What sort of work did he do I inquired? Design and make
surfing kites was the reply. It turns out he was one of about twenty people in the
world (at that time) that designed and created kites for a living. What are the odds
of that? By the end of the week I had the latest prototype and was heading for
lessons. Step up to the plate.
Now that I have read the book it occurs to me that all the time right back to Penrith
what I had been doing was stepping up to the plate. That the seeming magic and
serendipity of my life at times was really a side product of stepping up.
In Perth I had been working as a basic clinician on the floors. I hated it. The
possibility of advancement was difficult and obstructed. My goal of working in the 3rd
world in aid almost unreachable. By accepting the locum at Penrith it allowed me to
work in advanced areas. My confidence grew. When I returned to Perth I quit my job
and worked for an agency. The experience gained from this led to me being offered
the coordinators role in another hospital. Within a short period I was in charge of
hospital. This contributed to my being chosen from a national field to lead a team
overseas to establish an aid program.
Within a few short years my goal had been reached
All along whenever I had made the next step it was a mixture of many factors. Desire
opportunity prayer etc yet there was one common thread. The magic happened
when I made one simple move
To step up to the plate.
Books top TV , IT, and the one's I read are mostly biographical,
written by and about people who have traversed and lived
in the country of my life.
People who have served their country,
People who have achieved in their lives and helped many in theirs
In many ways I feel that I have walked a mile in their shoes, and in
my own way and style I write and record the ongoing.
People who don't take the time to read, seem to me to be thick and bigoted.
Unable to rationalize anything outside their own dud world.
So read on ELB, you are one who will understand, and connect.
