Sydney interlude

This was a very memorable three days for me, even though it had no “happy ending”. 

So much complexity can be found in just such a short time –

There was that fickle game of bread making, waiting to see if Barney would rise (and he did, beautifully)

There were those moments of feeling really, really good; realising how far I have come in the last 5 months and how I am in the best place I have been for the last very many years

There was one moment of feeling overwhelmingly negative, a flashback to those days when everything felt awful. But at the same time it was so positive that I dug myself out of that moment, maintained some composure and kept going.

There were some lovely moments shared with friends, filled with delicious food, laughter and stories. I was again reminded of how amazing my friends are and how they love me for who I am (and I love them for who they are).

There was a whole day of gorgeous sunshine in the bush, where I saw so many native wildflowers, admired the wonder of nature in a scribbly gum and across the expansive escarpment. It is simply incredible that one can still see kangaroos in the bush, in the middle of Sydney. I sat by the water for hours reading a book (strangely, set in Ontario) and snacking. I felt content in ways I had never known, this is unchartered territory.

There was the discovery and collection of the amazing vegetables in my dad’s garden. So much green and so much freshness. I devoured sun ripened baby tomatoes as I looked for more treasures. And even found a cactus flower!

Finally, there was this very memorable moment. After the interview I felt rather shattered, and decided to take a breather at Lifehouse. I walked into the foyer and saw a beautiful walnut baby grand, so I asked the volunteer ladies if I could play it. I played a string of Chopin pieces, if I remember correctly – the nocturne in E flat major, followed by the waltz in F minor, the waltz in A minor, then the nocturne in C minor, the waltz in B minor, and finally the nocturne in C sharp minor. I did not divert from Chopin as the melancholy and sentimentality suited me well at that very moment.

So many people came up to say thank you and I felt incredibly touched by their sincerity and kindness. I thought I am going to be okay – I have my own ways of reaching out to the universe. A lady stopped to tell me that she was supposed to hear this lovely music right after her first appointment with the oncologist (she was diagnosed with cancer this week). A man came up to say that I had made his day. A couple walked to the lift and walked back to finish listening to the nocturne. 

And finally, a very old and frail lady, probably in her late 80s, waited patiently to speak to me whilst I was talking to another man. When he had gone, she asked me if I could play a piece that her mother had really loved playing. She took out her wallet with her trembling hands and digged deep, finally coming up with a scrunched up piece of paper. On it there was a spidery scrawl in blue pen Clair de Lune. Who knows how long she had carried around that piece of paper, filled with memories and love for her mother? As I played those opening notes, her eyes went to a different place – I hope to a beautiful place. I could remember only a few lines of the piece but when I trailed off, I saw her eyes filled with tears as she thanked me for that little reminder. It was such a profound moment for me, awed by the  power of music. I left Lifehouse a different person.