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Luke: there’s something not right here. I feel cold. Death. Yoda: that place is strong with the dark side of the force. A domain of evil it is, and you must go. Luke: what’s in there? Yoda: only what you take with you. Luke: … Yoda: your weapons, you will not need them. Luke paused, looked at Yoda, buckled up his weapon belt and entered the dark tangled jungle. Yoda’s emotive ears drooped in resignation. We went to the Marrickville market this morning. My nearly 5 year old was wearing a quite wonderful costume he was recently gifted. It’s a full body Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle outfit - Leonardo if you’re wondering. It has green arms and legs, a slightly ridged turtle chest, a half shell, belt, blue eye mask and a plastic sword. Strangely it also came to us with a plastic Harry Potter wand. Our boy entered the market playground today with his weapons tucked into the brown fabric ninja belt. Children flapped around the area while their parents ate Turkish gozleme and drank chai tea. The turtle costume drew attention and soon Pan and two boys were talking and playing. The game quickly and inevitably turned to pointing, chopping and combative spell casting. Nobody got hurt or too upset, there were however some moments of snatching, crossed armed walk offs and a few parental interventions required. It all went on for 30 or 40 minutes and was probably a net positive for the children involved. The whole time I was wondering what kind of game would have been happening had Pan arrived with a 5 balloons or a tent or a dolphin costume? I’m heading back into a classroom for the first time in 4 months this week. I wonder what I’ll take with me? 
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This week I’ve received 3 independent pep talks. I’ve needed them as I had low levels of intrinsic pep. One pep talk was full of suggestions of action that could be taken in the moment to claw back agency and positive feeling. One pep talk offered solely empathy and shared understanding. One pep talk included visions of the future and a wholesome sense of journey in the broader sweep of time. All good, all different and at the end of the week I’m loaded right up with optimism and gratitude. Also Dani took the baby to Melbourne for the weekend and I’ve had a little bit of space in my day. I think the message might be, talk to people. People say a lot of things, some of which might somehow be valuable to hear. Have a great week out there people. It’s going to be ok.   On the 12th of July in 2016 Dani and I had a bottle of wine and a lump of bufala mozzarella on a wall in Rome. We sat on the stones, still warm from the day, and kicked our toes out over the ancient buildings. We were in love, the past was laid out below us and that evening a future together was becoming clear.
Two years later on the 15th of July we went back there and got engaged. I had been thinking that the hill behind the forum in Rome would be a great place to ask Dani to marry me for a little while. To me it is a powerful place of looking down on the ruins, human stories and back into time which leads a person to thinking forward into their own life and story. I had decided that she was wonderful and hoped she thought I was too, my plan was set. We had arranged to take the new (9 months) baby to Europe to see some friends and family, I’d pitched a stop in Rome on the way home because Rome is amazing. Dani went for it, next I wanted a ring. We’d come across a cool Icelandic jeweller near our house and I worked with him to make something special, it was very exciting. A week before we left, Kristjan gave me the ring in a easily concealable small black velvet pouch tied with a red ribbon. I spent the first few weeks of the trip through Europe fretting that Dani would come across the ring while searching my bag for socks or something. We made it to Rome and it was time. I’d thought to recreate the same wall picnic type evening setting and propose then. I knew it had been a special time 2 years earlier and felt it spoke to our connection and commitment. All I had to do was manoeuvre Dani onto the Capitaline Hill lookout with the right collection of picnic snacks while keeping a 9 month old maniac comfortable and cool in the blasting July heat. I made a few gentle suggestions: “let’s do an explore around and then head up towards the forum”, “you know what might be nice, let’s get some bufala and olives from that place down near the Basilica San Clemente?”, “want to head up the hill and find a nice spot?” You know, real casual, but deliberate, suggestions. Dani was eating it up. While we were shopping for picnic supplies she was quite particular about what to get - I’d inceptioned her on the wall picnic recreation concept. As we were heading up the hill she was determined to pick the right spot - I congratulated myself on the genius person management. It was all going great, I had the baby, the snacks, the ring, my girl - loving it. Then we turned onto the lookout wall from 2 years earlier and it was crap. Good enough for two athletic wine drinkers on a warm night with stars in their eyes and no cares on the earth. But, completely inappropriate for a baby in the early evening: there were other tourists everywhere, the only way to enjoy the view was to sit on the very high stone wall, and it was a little bit grimy from the nearby road. I panicked. Part of my brain shouted - ‘do it now, then retreat to a better picnic place after’. This was a bad plan and thankfully Dani agreed to move. In fact, she suggested the alternate spot, which turned out to be perfect. It was around the other side of the hill and had pretty much the same view, a little stone bench, shade and a feeling of intimacy. Once again I was pleased with how well I’d secretly sold Dani on this whole mission. So we’re set up, there’s the cheese, the olives, the baby on my knee concealing the ring in my pocket. We talked and smiled, it was beautiful. I took the moment and sprang into what I hoped was a charming and heartfelt series of questions and statements which culminated in an invitation to marry me. She didn’t answer. Perhaps it wasn’t that charming? I said “I’ve got the ring here in my pocket under the baby, would you like to see?” Instead of talking Dani reached into her bag and pulled out a black pouch with a red ribbon. My mind buckled slightly in confusion; ‘she’s found the ring already! How is this possible? Isn’t it still in my pocket? That is exactly the same pouch.’ I started to shift the baby to reach into my pocket and work out what was happening. Dani held the small black bag and began to speak. She had a prepared invitation of her own. Rather than accepting my proposal, Dani offered a counter proposal to marry. She had her own feelings and intentions and wanted me to marry her. It turns out that the whole time I’d been manoeuvring Dani to the intended proposal spot, she’d been concurrently manoeuvring me. We’d managed to individually, and yet strangely collaboratively, internalise some kind of shared plan to ask each other to get married at the same time, in the same place. Connected. The incredible kicker, we discovered through a steam of tears and yes’s, was that Kristjan, the Icelandic jeweller from Leichhardt, had made both the rings. We'd independently come into his shop within a few days of each other. Its 4 years later and happy proposal/counter proposal week Dani. I love you and I’m very grateful we both asked and both said yes.  Sometimes the difference between regret-disaster-personal sporting shame and glorious shiny lifelong highlight is a few seconds and one fast little friend.
13 years ago I was as tall and athletic as I ever was or will be again. This was very helpful, because I was playing Frisbee at the World Games on the Australian team in Taiwan. I was in a quarter full, brand new stadium with 10,000 moderately confused, yet enthusiastic Taiwanese spectators. It was very hot, very dark beyond the stadium lights and the Japanese national team was very good at Frisbee. The Australian team was good too though and as a result together we produced the best contest on a frisbee field I’ve been part of. The Japanese team had 2 particularly sensational players that night - Eri Hirai and Masahiro Matsuno. Often a point would start with Australia throwing down to team Japan; Hirai would then run around a bit, she’d get the frisbee and throw it a long way, very fast to Matsuno who would catch a goal. They’d all smile and bow subtly before we’d start the next point. To deal with this we had a strong plan. We’d try and run after Hirai and Matsuno to stop them - one time in the game this worked for me. On reflection it was probably just a simple plan, rather than a strong one. Anyway it worked this one time and we went ahead 3 to 1. After that the teams took turns scoring goals until at half time the Aussie Crocs led 7 to 5. The game felt kind of like an exciting summer night adventure of some sort. The air was thick and warm, objects seemed to move quickly and crisply in and out of the light. Have you ever been night skiing? Or do you remember riding a push bike to a friend’s house after sunset on a humid day? It was foreign and exciting and required the very best of your senses to keep up with everything. It was a sharp, rapid game. Highly skilled and vigorous. Someone must have given a pretty poor speech in our half time huddle because Japan scored the first 3 points after the break. This put us down 7 to 8 and it did not feel good. Games at the World Games finish quickly when 1 team scores 13 points. We tightened up, scored a goal and the 2 teams went back to taking turns scoring goals. Eri, she went back to throwing fast long goals and I went back to diving behind Matsuno while he caught goals. At 10 to 10 we got lucky and got a block and goal to take the lead back, 2 points from a win. 5 minutes later the score was 12 all and the last point of the game had suddenly arrived to place us all right on the pointy precipice between failure and success. As a quick aside I think this is why sport is so compelling, great and terrible feelings are just so close together sometimes. I got the frisbee and threw my only turnover of the 6 game tournament. 13 years later on my couch in Sydney I feel queasy thinking about it. The Japanese team picked it up and attempted a pass. Peter Blakeley ran over there using his speediness and got it back. He saved me. Exactly 1 minute after I had thrown the frisbee away, I ran to the end zone and caught the winning goal. The disaster flipped to glory in a minute. Incredible. It was an amazing game to be a part of. I’ve been saying I needed to pay Pete back for years, still not sure how to do it. In a couple of days the World Games are on again. Other people from the Australian Crocs and the best players from around the world will find themselves poised precariously between disaster and success. I hope they find it as excruciating and joyful as I did. Good luck. You can follow the 2022 Aussie Crocs here: https://www.facebook.com/AussieCrocs/ You can watch me play in the old days here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQgRV5tif3I It’s as cold as a pistachio nut. It’s as hot as a pistachio nut. You are beautiful… The grey sky salutes, broad and thick the clouds hang. Immovably convinced of their complete ascendency. They rule. Bodies below huddle and rush, tense against the wind and water. Cold faces, cold fingers. Warm chests deep under layers and layers. There are sodden autumn leaves plastered across the ground, a shiny carpet of orange, yellow and brown. Branches bend with the wind or break at a gust. Splinters spill across a path. Windows shake and car types scream down the liquid street. The kettle’s on, it’s warm inside. You are beautiful…  |
AuthorHigh school teacher 
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