strange days

.
For the last official day of my holidays, today i went up to the lookout on Mount Dandenong.  In 20 years of living in Melbourne i'd never been there, and only thought of it when i noticed it in the Melways.  I took the 694 bus from Belgrave station, which climbed up winding roads flanked by forest and tree-fern lined gullies, passed through several of the little townships up there and finally drove right into the lookout grounds.  Foolishly, i'd expected it to just be a roadside lookout of some sort, not a big modern tourist centre, so it took me a bit by surprise.  It was still pleasant though, with the view out over the city, terraces and balconies, gardens with little bridges over running brooks, and gum trees and kookaburras around.  Even the touristy bits helped give me a taste of that 'on holiday' headspace, so it was okay.  I spent a couple of hours up there, wandered around for a bit, read a little, then caught the bus back down to Belgrave (only on the way out noticing a signpost for some forest walking trails, which was something i'd been thinking of doing).

Ironically, while i was sitting up there reading a chapter of my book about living in the moment, not missing now while planning the next thing, i realised that's exactly what i was doing right then, trying to decide whether to catch the 12.30 bus or wait for the 1.30, whether i should stop off somewhere else and and whether that would give me time to sit and relax at Earthly Pleasures before i had to head home etc.  All the while i'd been up there i was thinking about when i would leave. I also realised why i've felt so hassled and rushed on those days i've actually gotten out to do stuff, in that i've tried to cram too much into a few hours and ended up clock watching the whole time, always aware of how long it is before i have to be somewhere else (not to mention grasping at moments, trying too hard to relax and enjoy it before rushing off to the next thing).  I realised it's worth remembering not to try to do too much, to maybe just do one thing on a given day and to allow myself time to just be there.  To not know what time it is for a bit.  Great to know, now that the holidays are at an end. 

And when i did visit the cafe, i discovered another good lesson on the pitfalls of trying to recreate a good moment from the past, even one two days old.  Doors to Narnia and all that.

The other thing i noticed was that i spend far too much of my time writing livejournal entries about things in my head, experiencing the moment as a future reminiscence instead of living it then and there, so i think i'll make a point to not write such 'today i did this' type posts in future, so that i won't be tempted to compose them ahead of time (hey, it's not like i ever read back on them, is it?).  In fact, the real reason i'm posting this at all is to make a note of that thought, so as not to forget it.

And on that note, i'll leave the rest of the day's wanderings (and yesterday's city excursion) untold.

I've realised something that i do, whenever i find something exciting, inspiring or enjoyable:

I grasp at it, trying to hold on to that mood or inspiration for as long as i can. I try to read things in keeping with it, watch videos or listen to music that fit the mood, make screen savers of images on my computer at work, anything to capture and continue the feeling.

I obsess over the idea until it becomes stale and worn out then try to keep it going past its use-by date. Other things that might capture my imagination and create new moods i resist, in trying to hold on to the moment that's passed.

I think this is another area where i need to learn not to be so attached, to embrace things that move me without becoming totally absorbed in them, enjoy them as they rise and fall, then let go as they pass and embrace the next moment, partake in the things that interest me instead of being defined by one.

Again, another one of these Buddhist ideas makes sense of something close to home.

Flicking through the Big Issue last night, i came across an article with samples from some 'Photo of the Year' photojournalism awards. One image really jumped out at me - a picture of a protestor being dragged away by police, thumb pushed up under his nose, forehead dragged back so only the whites of his eyes were showing, one hand clenched in a fist and the other grasping at the air. Without knowing what the protest was about or what the story was, it just stood out to me as brilliantly capturing a moment of human anguish and desperation. I flicked back a page and read the caption to the photo: "Evacuation of Jewish settlers from the Gaza Strip".

Then something strange happened. When i turned the page and looked at the photo again, it had changed. Instead of a picture of a terrified protestor, i was looking at a photo of a religious fanatic, his hands clutching the air not in desperation but in rage, body rigid with stubbornness rather than fear, the hidden eyes not wild with panic but burning with uncompromising zealotry, and extremist slogans on his lips instead of a cry for help.

It can be quite startling to have your own prejudices highlighted in such a sudden and obvious way.