The Hunger Banquet

Talking about issues of food security and food distribution and the wealth of people and economics and people living in the world and the way we eat and distribute our resources. I was in the “middle income group” and so my dinner was rice and beans and it was surprisingly delicious and the kids on the floor, the “low income group”, ate bowls of rice and the people at the “high income” table ate three different kinds of pasta! Imagine the luxury, three different kinds of pasta in one meal! 

I live in total luxury. I have everything I ever need in the world at my fingertips. I have the power of my mind at my disposal. I can choose to be happy with my lot. It is a surprise that the people who live in the most wealthy most product filled most resourceful countries have the highest rates of depression. They have everything and still the world holds no joy. I choose to hold joy. I choose to have gratitude for all that I have. All that I have access to. I want to make a difference. I want to make the world a beautiful place, a joyful place, leave it a little better than when I found it. This place I came into. This time, this place, this age of terrorism, of mass consumption, of food aplenty yet mass starvation, of highest technological innovation, of new age hippie spiritual life. To love, to life, to joy. To be. To be here. Here I am. Hello.

Run, Lulu Run! (Again)

It is hot. The sky is blue. I am standing with several hundred people. We are converged on the green in the center of New Milford. We are all decked out in various forms of exercise gear, mostly shorts and t-shirts and sneakers. We are at the starting line. A man’s voice announces “Ready... Set... Go!”. The New Milford Library clock begins to chime 9AM. We shuffle off, and by the end of Main St, we are running. The pace is quick. We leave the main town behind. The sound of feet on the pavement. The crowd thins out. All I can think of is how different it is to the City to Surf. I miss the crowds. There are stretches where I’m almost running on my own. It could just be another Saturday morning run. A few families sit on their lawns to watch the runners passing by. They wave, or just watch quietly, observing the motley crew of humanity running by their front doors. Children, and grown-ups. Serious runners and running clubs and people who just like to run, and, of course, the parents with prams. An older runner calls out to a group of spectators, “Am I winning?”. A woman calls back, “Top 500!”. Everybody laughs. I try to focus on my breathing.  At the first mile we reach our first water station. It is a hot morning. It is difficult to pace myself in miles. I have only ever known kilometers. The scenery is stunning. We run through the leafy green back streets of New Milford. I think about how at home I feel here. But I am a foreigner. I have a different accent to all the people around me. When we run though, we sound the same. I have a revelation about what I want from life. I'm doing exactly that. And that feels good. I round a corner and see a group of people I know cheering the runners on. I feel both elated and strangely confronted. What do I look like when I run?! They give me a boost. Later when their cheering has worn off and the pain returns, a kind stranger and fellow runner jogs up next to me and says "You can do it! Finish strong!". It gives me the final boost. The last mile is mercifully all down hill. I can see the finish line ahead of me and I get that delicious rush of adrenalin that comes from long distance running. I’ve nearly done it! A man on a microphone calls out the names of the runners as they come through the finish line. He incorrectly pronounces my name, twice. It takes a little of the shine off the achievement of having just run 8 miles. But it’s not the finish that counts. It’s the inspiration from having done it. From the possibility of being fit, of being in control of my body, of my mind. Of living a life where I can run races in different parts of the planet. I grab an orange quarter and another drink and head over to the green to meet my friends and cool down. It wasn’t my best event. It was harder than I expected. But I got a new sense of resolve out of it. And that is exhilarating. See you at the next one. 

The Best Things

In the past 7 days I have had several beautiful, inspiring, and exciting experiences...

On Monday I went down to Canberra (the above image is actually a photo of the air con and personal light on the bus!) to visit my good friend Susie La Q and her boyfriend Ryan, and after a delicious lunch in the CBD, we headed off to the Australian War Memorial. Even though I have been to the memorial countless times, each visit is an emotional, confronting, and inspiring. It is a beautifully designed space, and the exhibits never fail to move me. It seems that the more I learn about conflict around the world, the less I understand it. At closing time, the crowds are ushered towards the exit, and we were privileged to witness the “closing ceremony”, a simple service at the Pool of Reflection. A different soldier is remembered each day, his story read out to the crowd, and at the conclusion, a moment of silence followed by a lone musician playing The Lament on the bagpipes. Looking around the crowd, a multicultural mix of tourists from all around the world, I couldn’t help but wonder, what is the point of all this conflict? I am standing with people whose nations at one time or another Australia has most likely been at war with. And for what? Has it made the world a better place? Or does it just make people more mistrusting of each other? 

On Tuesday Susie and I visited Floriade. If you ignored the carnival rides and Easter Show-like stalls, you could almost believe you were stepping into an Impressionist painting. The rainbow of colours of poppies and irises and English daisies and chrysanthemums, the light green of the weeping willows dotting the perimeter of the lake was breath-taking (I love how in the photo below, the image has pixelated and it looks like a painting). The gnome knoll was a surprise highlight, with a myriad of brightly and imaginatively painted gnomes grinning up at intrigued passers-by. Thank you to Susie La Q and Ryan (and Sulley!) for a lovely couple of days! 

On Thursday I took Phoebe and her friend Sara (aged 7 and 8 respectively) to the Rock’s Discovery Museum for a school holiday program called HMS Discovery. Each “sailor” was given a passport, and the embarkation point, Plymouth, was stamped onto the yellow page. The year is 1792. Captain Natalie (not quite historically correct having a female captain, but we’re willing to be a little more open minded these days) reads her crew of 10 sailors, ranging in age from about 5 to 11, a letter from Captain Arthur Phillip to King George, requesting supplies for the colony of NSW. A projected image on the wall behind the ship tells us we are at the Plymouth dock. Over the (anachronistic) loudspeaker we hear sounds of a busy wharf - sailors stomping up an down the gangplank, cows and pigs mooing and oinking, the horns of the ships.

The crew were briefed on how to run a ship by playing Captain’s Coming, and were quickly inducted into the technicalities of port, starboard, bow, and stern, climbing the rigging, sewing the sail, and scrubbing the deck. The crew assembled in the Plymouth Storehouse, and were ordered to load the ship. Sacks of tools, timber, flour, and sugar, heavy chests with currency, a large sack of mail and cages of animals were quickly despatched onto the ship by the willing crew. Once all were aboard, the gangplank was removed, the ropes were thrown in, and the sail let down. 

The ship was off! The image on the wall changed to  a painting of a ship at sea, and the sounds of the ocean could be heard all around. The eagle eyed crew quickly spotted that the ship was overrun with rats, and spent time running around the ship throwing fat black squeaky rats overboard. Each sailor took turns in the important tasks of furling and unfurling the sail, throwing the ropes, and steering the ship. As evidenced by the sound effects, and a new image on the screen, the ship sailed into a storm, and the crew tied themselves to the railings to avoid being flung overboard by the rollicking sea - thankfully everyone knew how to tie a reef knot! They charted their way down around South America and found themselves in Rio de Janeiro. The crew avoided scurvy by eating lemons, limes, and bananas, and dancing to the music of Rio de Janeiro. But the stop was only a short one, as there was still a long voyage ahead. 

Finally, after 8 long months at sea, the crew could hear seagulls, which meant land was at last nearby! The distinct sounds of the NSW bush could at last be heard - cackling kookaburras and lilting lyre birds. The image on the wall transformed into Sydney Cove, and the crew rejoiced at having made the long voyage successfully. The cargo was unloaded into the Sydney storehouse, and all sailors were given a new Sydney Cove stamp in their passports. A most wonderful way to spend an hour in the school holidays... now I need to find a version for adults! 

The War Memorial visit re-inspired me to keep learning about conflicts around the world, and after a delightful couple of hours in the City of Sydney Library on Tuesday afternoon, I have a new stack of books on Afghanistan to keep me busy for a while. Yesterday I finished reading Three Cups of Tea, a powerful book about the importance of providing education in Central Asia. Once again, the more I learn, the more I want to know, and the less I seem to understand... the contradictory joy of learning!

So a very busy and wonderful week, with much to inspire me! And the best part, all of these activities were free! WIN! 

Do What You Love

There is a wonderful film called Little Miss Sunshine. And in this film Paul Dano says a wonderful line: 

"You do what you love and you f*** the rest." 

Right now, life is nice, because I'm doing what I love. I’m getting paid to watch theatre 5 days a week at the best job in the world (well, second best. The first best would be getting paid to be on stage... but that will come in time!), I’m singing and dancing, I’m writing, I discovered the State Library has hard copies of Variety magazine film reviews dating back to 1910 (perfect for my Movie Musical Project), and I have time to hang out with my little little sister during her school holidays and spend an entire day at the zoo marveling at the weird and wonderful creatures that inhabit our planet. 

Do what you love, and you will be happy, and all the things that you worry about will sort themselves out, and it will all be ok!!!

Run, Lulu! Run!

Bright blue sky, crisp air, and 80,000 of my closest friends. A perfect day for running the iconic City to Surf. Now in it’s fortieth, and my first, year, the City to Surf today was an amazing event. The logistics behind these kinds of things always staggers me. Who has to make the decision about how many plastic cups to buy? Organises the online registrations? Packs bibs and electronic tags and stuffs bags full of newspapers? Organises the marshalling of 80,000 runners?! It’s mind blowing. But it is incredible to be a part of. Dad and Phoebe dropped my s’Mum (step-mum for the uninitiated, and pictured with moi above at the end of the race) Meg and I off at Hyde Park and my adrenalin started pumping. The park was full of people in sports gear, stretching, jogging, and greeting fellow runners. This is what life should be all about. People coming together to celebrate health and fitness and the beauty that is Sydney on a bright sunny, albeit chilly, Sunday morning in early August. 

The race start is divided into 6 groups based on previous experience (ie. the super duper runners start first), and safety (ie. the walkers and mum’s/dad’s/carers with prams are up the back). Meg was in the blue group, so I bid her farewell and made my way through the park down to College St to join the yellow group. I giggled at the long row of porta loo’s through the middle of the park, and the patient queues of runners lined up to use them (something about peeing in the middle of the city with but a wall of thin plastic between you and thousands of people is immensely amusing... after all is said and done, we are all human...). 

Are you ready yellow group?! Cheers and waves. They called the start of the race, and we were off! Sort of. The sheer mass of people meant we really couldn’t get moving beyond a slight shuffle. Thankfully as we rounded the corner to William St, the pace picked up, the crowd thinned a little, and I was able to run right from the blue mat (the point from which the electronic tag attached to your shoe starts recording your time... Ah technology! Back in my old running days it was a volunteer with a stop-watch...).  And from then on, except for a couple of drink stops along the way, I pretty much didn't stop running until I hit the finish line.

It was humbling, inspiring, and emotional to look up to the end of William St and see a mass of humanity running toward the tunnel. The sound of feet pounding the pavement around me, the smell of tiger balm, the spectators cheering us on. I was totally pumped! Running through the tunnel people were whooping and cheering, and a lythe young Mexican woman with a giant sombrero and an Ipod speaker dock, was playing awesome Latino tunes, all the while cheering and running, (and totally outpacing me)! I had to keep reminding myself to not let the excitement (or emotions) get a hold of me, and focus on running! 

I was shocked when we reached the 5km mark to realise we had already done 5km, because I was feeling good! The sheer momentum of the people around me, the bands playing along the roadside, the people who had come out onto their lawns and driveways to cheer and play music, the gorgeous day, it felt fantastic to be a part of it all. Heartbreak Hill was demanding, but with so much going on around me, people dressed in costumes - from Star Wars to Spiderman, several gorillas, a giant frog (how do people run 14km in head gear?!), wigs and capes, tutu’s and fairies, inspirational t-shirts, and people from all walks of life, young and old, walking and running, I didn’t have time to remember I was willingly running up a 5km hill, let alone a 14km race!

Rounding down the hill down Military Rd and Campbell Parade, I remembered why I love living in Sydney (especially my days of living in the east). Bright blue sky meets glorious blue ocean meets beautiful harbour foreshore. It's fairly spectacular. And coming into Bondi Beach was a mixed bag of emotions. I was excited, proud, tired, sad that it was coming to an end so quickly, and pumped that I had finally achieved something I had said I would do since I was about eleven years old. I’m a little sore tonight (ok, make that a lot sore... when Mum called out to say the race was on the news, I could barely make it from my room to the tv... go figure!), but I feel like I can achieve ANYTHING I put my mind to... look out world!