I spent yesterday in the King Valley, a truly beautiful
place just an hour from where I live. After a good friend recommended I try
Brown Brothers for lunch, I decided to do just that. A short drive and a sing-along to Angus and
Julia Stone had me arrive at my destination under my own steam. Over a tasting
of prosecco at Sam Miranda, the sales girl there gave me a high five for my
free spirited love of life and yearning to travel. Smiling from the bubbles and
the sunshine, I felt pretty chuffed, lolling in the warmth of the self
satisfaction that can come from a sense of independence.
What I didn’t realise was that my lunch would be accompanied
by matching wines. Not that this is ever a bad thing, except in the case of
yours truly being the designated driver. The last time that I was in this area,
I had a man at my side to play this role. And to add insult to injury somewhat,
a couple on the grass in front of me were newly engaged, with a princess cut
white gold ring to show for it. And don’t get me wrong, it made me smile from
ear to ear, proof yet again of the hopeless romantic that I am. But it did
serve to make me aware that yes, my resistance to alcohol had lowered over an
extended period of sobriety, making me take responsibility for myself.
And amen to that. I couldn’t and wouldn’t sit behind the
wheel with the windows lowered, hoping that this would fast track
sobriety. But rather I would walk, have
some caffeine, sunshine and Paulo Coelho. Responsibility is a funny thing, in
the end, we only have ourselves to answer to, whether in a congratulatory or
berating manner. Paulo Coelho’s words about love coupled with independence
struck a chord. I count ‘The Alchemist’ as one of my favourite books for this
very reason. Love is many a splendid
thing, but filling in your holes it is not. The protagonist of this book set
off on his own journey, leaving behind the love of his life – realising that
indeed the timing was wrong. So being the Juliet, we can either flourish or
falter. As we find ourselves amongst the blooming flowers of spring, if we allow
nature to be the teacher that it is, coming out of our buds seems to make
sense. It’s comfortable to stay under the doona of winter but…
So is the allure of a text from an old flame. Especially
under the heady spell of wine, which so often leads one down Nostalgia Lane. I
know this lane well, it often involves donning a pair of rose coloured glasses
and submitting oneself to temporary amnesia as to why said relationship broke
down. Nostalgia Lane is an example of an
obstacle that can be placed onto our path, most often of our own creation. And
if we take action based upon reaction, it in the end this will cause suffering.
Flattery is such an egoic boost, but it truly is only fools that rush in on
this one. In the end, it is not fair to
either party, unless of course, the recipient’s feelings have changed.
We live in a Tiffany culture, where the comfort of coupledom
is served to us in black and white, often in the rain, out the front of the
famous jeweller’s shopfront in New York.
I have this advertisement on my wall because I love it, both the allure
of the image and the inherent beauty of the photograph itself. And as I was
saying yesterday, to be able to look at something from a distance often makes
the experience a richer one.
I used half a roll of film up yesterday on capturing images
from one of my favourite spots in Beechworth. With each shot, imagining the
possible lives taking place behind the pictures. And this is the same for me as the Tiffany
ad, in it I see an independent and self-assured woman. One who chooses to
aspire to all that is possible for her, rather than to respond to an old life
whose promises lie empty and cold.
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