Winter of our discontent June 2021

It is not Shakespearean, my tragedy, nor compared to many is it even much of a tragedy. I keep thinking it is self made - of my doubts, my duplicity, my lies and my delusions. I have made this bed that I appear to be locked to by my being an invalid - an interesting word with two meanings. I am lonely, have lost the illusion of my wife being indestructible after serious health scares. I want to be someone and somewhere else.

It's still difficult to move, but I guess I have improved a little. My depression and enxiety is flaring up as I face the facts of another 5 months at least of this very restricted life - I am also not good at sitting still and recovering while others in my household help me and do other chores around the house.

I should not be so sorry for myself, and think of others who are isolated by the dreaded COVID. I despair of our governments and the lack of foresight or preparedness that is now obvious as COVID ravages our cities. I despair because they seem incapable of responsibility and being grownups. I doubt Labor would have done much better but I do believe that Dan is doing better than most.

It is pretty mild for the start of winter and I have taken to looking out my window - am very fortunate to have a large Jacaranda in the foreground of a sweeping panorama which includes the gully between Ryde and Putney, moving to the WNW over the apartments of Top Ryde and occasionally peeking views of the mountains. It is green and beautiful. The Jacaranda i have decided is a representation of God. I have often thought of trees when it comes to the spiritual life - one of service - sheltering other plants, birds, insects even parasites that suck them of their lifeblood. Regardless of who comes to them they offer protection, at sometimes deadly cost to themselves - humans can learn a lot from them. Bending in the wind so as not too brittle nor prone to snap, they talk to me with the rustle of leaves - I hear many indigenous cultures can tell the species of tree merely by listening to the rustle of leaves - each has a unique and beautiful voice. I hope i am wise enough to be as selfless as a tree.