Around a circle, we ran. Words ushered, chanting for inclusion and for acceptance. When entering the ring we listed the traits in which we give, those in which we hope to embody for now and into the future. Song and candle flickering started the embracement of this place, and soon the joy, with a paradoxical serious undertone, became apparent.
I seem to be unsure where this week really went, trading hours with phone calls and meetings, and sleep with coffee. Minutes mysteriously and mindlessly wondered to familiar paddocks for empathy, returning sown ground and found gems. Yet as the time ticked by an old fob watch in my mind, the hunger still waits to be unleashed.
As I sit and stare out the Cathedral windows, in which no doubt you must have done a hundred or so years before, my splintering week must feel trivial to your time here. Cramped, two to a bed, used as a slave, in some sort of emerging nation, very different to the struggles I am presently feeling. Yet here we are, sharing grief and respect in the stagnant halls.
This week I feel it's only apt to entitle this blog after our celebration of culture, a moment to pause, reflect and dream. Along the jetty at Coffs, overlooking the white peaked ocean, I find it hard to reconcile the landscape. At one end, American inspired piers path boardwalk style stardom over our ancient coast, while the other blasts of my culture, promising a new wave of solid foundations for the future.