Don't miss the magnolias
Friday, July 25, 2014 at 02:46AM The My Secret Melbourne column in the weekend Age is a favourite of mine, and last Saturday’s contained a small photo of a stunning building which the author, Mark Schaller, described as the best piece of architecture in Melbourne. ‘I love Monaco House in Ridgway Place, just off Little Collins St,’ I read.
Wait, what?! I walk past there four times a week, every working week of my life. I have had coffee in the café at street level in that very building, and never once thought to look up. I checked it out this week and Schaller is right, it is a little gem, a startling, elegant surprise in a laneway better known for its proximity to the exclusive Melbourne (for the boys) and Lyceum (for the girls) Clubs.
I was chastened. How many other remarkable things do I miss in my distracted, preoccupied tramps around the city?
Looking up is a good tip. I’ve long adored Sydney Road, but one time I walked from where it starts, at the end of Royal Parade, to Moreland Road, jotting down descriptions of the top half of buildings as I went. It was a revelation – the second and third stories of buildings in Sydney Rd are spectacular – old, for the most part well-maintained, painted a rainbow of pastels, adorned with cute little balconies.
This Sunday I am speaking to a church group on the other side of town who have been kind enough to ask me along. My topic: Rediscovering Wonder – the role of art as revealing the sacred in the mundane – hardly the catchiest of titles. Preparing for the talk has been a lesson for me, a reminder of the importance of being alive to the wonder all around us. I write about this to remind myself as much as to convince anyone else.
Last Saturday I had a delicious reminder to use all my senses in perceiving the beauty in the world. I attended a half-day workshop on ‘Mindfulness Meditation’ with a wonderful teacher with whom I had done a mindfulness course a couple of years back. The instructor, Sally Polmear*, is one of my oldest friends, and she had gone to a lot of trouble to present us with little sense treats upon which to dwell as we concentrated on our breath and gently and repeatedly brought our attention back to the thing we were contemplating from whatever frenetic busyness our minds tended to leap to.
A small bouquet of fragrant herbs was placed on each chair; mine contained parsley, bay, oregano, dill and rosemary. Sal invited us to stroke the different textures of the leaves, to crush each and drink in the aroma. I enjoy smells immensely, but tend to register them on the run; sitting for several minutes doing nothing except letting scents overwhelm me was electrifying.
There was an elaborate morning tea, which we consumed in silence, focusing on the tastes and textures of each nut, muffin and slice of cheese. There was a piece of music that we listened to intently, trying to avoid thinking, ‘Oh, don’t you just love it when the cello comes in, ooh, that minor key is effective,’ but simply letting the music wash over us, experiencing it without mental commentary, which is not easy.
This world is full of horrors, and not only when an airline packed with Westerners is shot out of the sky. Millions of people the world around live with daily dangers and griefs and privations that I can barely begin to imagine. All the more reason to drink in beauty, harmony and the surprising every opportunity we can; all the more reason to train ourselves (and for most of us who are no longer children, it does require training) to notice these things which are everywhere once you start looking.
Noticing these things fills our tanks for the situations of injustice we need to combat, for the resilience we need to excercise in the grind of everyday life, for the patience and humour and love we need to practice as we interact with loved ones and strangers every day.
For about two weeks, this time of year, the magnolias light up the streets of Melbourne. Our neighbour has a cream one, which flowered early this year, others in Brunswick are deep purply pink; some are only just budding, others are almost done. Magnolias have this burst of glory late July, early August, and then they look pretty ordinary for the rest of the year. The thing is – if you are preoccupied for that fortnight and not noticing the changing beauty of the natural world, which is evident even in the middle of a city, then you will miss them till next year. And who knows which of us will be around then?
So, do yourself a favour (I’m lecturing myself here). Start being mindful of the glory all around, starting in Melbourne suburban streets this week. Don’t miss the magnolias.
Reader Comments (5)
Ruth and I look forward to your regular Blogs: always food for thought and so much appreciated.
The world is alive with the grandeur of God, but only those who see take off their shoes... Thank you Clare for sharing your experience and prompting us (O so gently) to do likewise.
Thank you once again Clare. I did an art class over summer 'drawing from observation'. My teacher's words have become a mantra - 'the more you look, the more you see'. That's true.
It must be Sunday evening - there's an envelope on the bar at the bottom of the screen. I'm playing Solitaire and listening to Soundproof on the radio. It must be Claire, its Sunday evening, thank goodness. A gentle way back from mindless computer game to the real world. I am only hiding in the computer for a while anyway. Thanks for your thoughts. Emails are so seductive, and there are some gems. I also use red flags and red boxes, but I cant quite find the way to being predictable about their use. I kind of ebb and flow more. Ah well. Have a pleasant evening Claire and thanks for sharing.
Clare, you are not the only one to suffer under the tyranny of telecommunication. It eats into one's life in such an obtrusive fashion. But there ARE the occasional pearls - such as the Clare Boyd Macrae Blog!
Best