Winter Solstice

The winter solstice occurred Saturday 21 June here in the Southern Hemisphere. It is the natural turning point of the year as the days now start getting longer. Spring and summer is on its way . However, the winter is yet not over but the mere hint of the turning when the sun, at its northern point in the sky peaks and starts moving back south, heralding longer days, is eagerly waited.

In the Northern Hemisphere, it is known as the summer solstice and rings in the official start of summer. 

Winter solstice in the Southern Hemisphere.

 

Solstice celebrations.

 

As I dream about the warmer days, I'm re-posting a summer entry to prepare myself for the lazy days coinciding with our extended holidays and festive season, where swimming is a natural pastime........

 
The water is invigorating and when I go during the day, the sun's rays warm my body and sparkle over the water, inviting me to dive and push against its force, the controlled environment comforting yet stifling as I leverage my body into a pencil-shaped position.

Against the wall at the deep end, I push down easily touching the bottom of the pool with my feet, only to spring upwards quickly. I angle my head so my face is the first part of my body to break through the water. My hair gets plastered to my head, not only away from my face and out of my eyes but also because this action makes me feel confident, it makes me feel confident and in control, knowing my hair is plastered in an orderly way. In this second, I embrace the sensuous interaction with the water as it meets my face and I break through its barrier and its droplets fall away and I open my eyes and feel alive. 

I tread water and position my body behind the diving block so as to take advantage of the sunlight coming through a single portion of the glassed ceiling. A cloud moves away and the sun shines brightly. From my view, it is in an otherwise cloudless, blue sky. I lift my face and close my eyes soaking up the tingling, warm sensation of the sun's rays; light feathery movements dance across my skin. In that brief moment I am motionless and weightless, making gentle ripples across the water with my hand maintaining balance and buoyancy.

I am nowhere except in that moment, in that space behind the diving block, in public, yet in solitude. I hear nothing except the slapping of the water on my skin and I drink in the moment with only my breathing to remind me of my existence.

Time presses me and I reluctantly shake my head and open my eyes before pushing out from the wall breaking into a survival back stroke swim, with a kicking action like a frog on its back. I swim enjoying the steady rhythm as my arms push under the water like paddles, in sync with the outward movements of my legs and head to the shallow end of the pool, conscious of the time, commitments and responsibilities, giving order to my day.

Express 1

The day dawned crisp, yet clear and Tammi got dressed in layers of clothing with flannels close to her body to ward off the chill of the cold climate. The years of eating raw foods, close to their natural state had shaved years off her true age and the bountiful ingredients derived from oranges and various colours of capsicum she devoured meant she absorbed good reserves of Vitamin C. This combined with her strong immunity saw her never succumb to colds and flu as those around her were subjected to.

She frequently washed her hands with warm, soapy water quickly eliminating any bugs she may have come into contact with. Practising yoga and hiking daily saw her live a healthy and sustainable lifestyle which revealed itself in shiny hair. She moved like a tiger, easily and relaxed, coordinating her movements with light and grace.

As she stretched and performed the downward dog yoga pose and then upwards lifting her outstretched arms, she vowed to give back. She vowed to give back not only because she could but more importantly because the roll of the dice she'd thrown returned high and in the stakes called life this meant plenty.

As she wound down from the class, she reflected upon her friend Phoebe. She mused for a moment, thinking of feeble Phoebe and how the play with words represented her friend's physical strength.

Tammi had a split second window of opportunity where an epiphany revealed itself. She was lucky. She couldn't describe it any other way and the revelation filled her with excitement......and.......gratitude.

As she moved through the constructs of her day she had a heightened awareness of her surroundings. The gold coin she found on the pavement to the break in the traffic allowing her to cross the busy road quickly. Tammi thought about feeble Phoebe and wondered how she'd missed opportunities or why.

Tammi had no answers, the complexity of people and their lives were unexplainable to her. "Truth is stranger than fiction" was a phrase she used to frame and contextualise people's lives, including her own.

She skipped a step and lifted her face to the sun as it shone through the clouds warming her skin and giving her an even warmer inner glow. She thought about her breaks and that perhaps she had made them herself, rather than them being random events occurring without any reason.

If this was so, she asked herself, then why had some events unfolded and snowballed until she was pleading for respite - was this luck? She couldn't say, perhaps it was because she had overcome the misfortune; she had thrived, in spite of the odds and upon reflection, she thought, this was her luck. She felt an unbridled confidence, so convincing she thought the crowds created a path for her to walk through unhindered. It was only that she had slipped into the rhythm of the city's lunch hour that she moved in unison with the crowds, mostly office-workers, so walked in sync and found the opportunities within the throng that a natural parting of the crowds meant she did indeed, walk unhindered.

The afternoon past and Tammi broke the golden rule. She clocked-watched. Not wanting to but her circumstances reeked of unspoken ambiguity and she felt herself falling into the void. Swirling forces, unintentionally placed her so she slipped into the whirlpool. No fault, no liability, after all it was an accident, that she somehow slipped, lost her footing.....and that was it.

What happened next was quite extraordinary. She inadvertently flung her arm sideways. The force of the swirling energy against her outstretched arm was so intense she thought it had been reefed out of its socket. Its power, however hurled her 180 degrees so she faced the way she had slipped. It was enough. This mere act was enough for her to regain control and leveraging the force behind her she propelled herself towards the opening.

As quietly as she had disappeared, she then too slipped back into the familiarity of the office, returning to a better defined role in which her new circumstances had now determined.

This experience and a text message from Phoebe bemoaning her luck made Tammi realise her own richness. A richness, not defined by monetary or material fortunes, a mysterious wealth derived from an inner resource she drew on and when needed spun to her advantage.

She debated a moment, she thought had she made her own luck or was it luck, simply luck's reward, a random act crossing her path, or was it good timing, a roll of the dice which effected a sense of good fortune . Whatever, for Tammi it was the end of the day, the hand had rolled to the o'clock and she was done.

Upon her exit, she selected 1 and hit express on the lift's panel. As she did a co-worker awaited to select the descent to the outside world, too, on this Friday afternoon. Tammi selected for her, hitting express and explaining this meant there was a chance the lift would not stop. "Sometimes you get lucky," said Tammi. As the lift doors opened, her co-worker said, "let's see."

There was an air of expectancy as the doors closed. All eyes were fixed on the red light as it lit up the panel, traversing along the building's floors, 7, 6 and 5, non-stop, travelling quickly, 4 and 3 powering onwards without any sign of suddenly stopping. It reached level 2 and the red light pinged like a beacon and finally the lift reached destination 1 where it came to an aburupt halt. The doors' opening was meet with relief and celebration as Tammi's co-worker turned and smiled.

With that they both exited and went in different directions, 2 people in a world of 7+ billion people, all riding their own rapids and all able to make their own luck with the help of luck's reward as we all traverse the inky landscape of surprise and intrigue, not dissimilar to riding the rapids.

Photos

Hello,

Photos

Riding the Waves along Australia's coastline

Building Bridges - Cowra - Japan-Australia - peace at historic Prisoner of War Gardens

Scuplture @ Coogee Beach Sydney, Australia

Always have your eye on the ball

Swim at natural rock pools, Coogee Beach Sydney, Australia

Headland view of Sydney Coastline

Tranquility

Sunset at Coogee Beach Sydney, Australia

Riding the waves along Australia's coastline

Serenity

Rock Waterfall

Eco-Farms, wind farms in inland Australia - windy corridor

Music

I'm sharing a great song by Bob Seger - You'll Accomp'ny me, stay tuned for some more short stories, coming soon.

Sporty love

Maxine had pretty features, chestnut coloured hair, sleek and shiny falling around her shoulders. She was naturally athletic and well-coordinated having played sports all her life. She’d played competition tennis in her teens. In the searing heat she volleyed and hit the ball deep to the baseline running from one side of the court to the other reaching the ball with a long backwards swing, sending it over to her competitor who scrambled for traction, too slow, to connect her racquet as the ball landed short in the top right of the court.

Maxine won the point and worked hard for the game, in the blistering, hot and dry climate. The sun baked her skin and the heat rose up from the asphalt and hit her sweaty face with such force she recoiled.

At drinks she sat in the shade on the wooden bench and gulped water, parched from the high summer heat; her youth and fitness the only elements sustaining her as she played in the dog day conditions, in an inland city where drought conditions prevailed.

During the warm barmy nights she played badminton, partnered with her buddy they played together harmoniously, alternating their positions after each game. One close to the net and Maxine at the back. She hit the shuttlecock deep into their opponent’s court and recovered placing herself square in the middle to meet the long high returns.

Maxine loved the physicality of movement, reaching, stretching and twisting, using and pushing her body’s limits. Supple and flexible her grace was light and easy, her movements loose and rhythmic as she deftly flicked the shuttlecock sideways, skimming the net and moving centre to meet its return, if at all it arrived.

She was young and awakening. She knew he noticed her. She noticed him. She was awkward though, awkward and shy. He was not much better, despite his good looks and talent on the court. They liked one another. The physical distance between them was minimal, however it was intangible, not easily defined and even more, not easily closed, there in the gym. She sensed they both longed for one another, yet were unable to push through the unspoken barriers and be together in conversation, in spirit and more….he was in the paper, winning a chess competition. She saw it, she saw him and carefully cut it out and kept it in her drawer.

She drifted away from the badminton club, a gradual withdrawal from the sport, from him and all that may have been. She grieved the loss of what she never quite had and what she so longed for. She kept his photo and often took it out. She studied every detail in the carefully folded photo which was all that remained of a love which never bloomed.

Time passed, school ended and she graduated. The long, lazy days of summer arrived and with this came a new chapter. A new beginning where she left the past, where she left him and he became a bittersweet memory; a mutual longing not realised.

Unexpectedly she met someone else. There were no obstacles. They were free to talk and to get to know one another. The summer unfolded. Neither had plans, in the hot and dry city. Work did not demand their time, energy nor their presence. They packed bags and headed north. It was fruit picking season and they picked bananas and harvested sugar cane at Tully and Innisfail, in North Queensland. When not working they swam at Mission Beach and Bingal Bay.

They blew their wages on white water rafting in the Tully River, traversing the inky landscape of surprise and intrigue while riding the rapids. She savoured the journey and when returning to her hometown, she too savoured his memory filing it in the back of her mind, revisiting it occasionally. The longing for him slowly diminished and the photo she so carefully preserved eventually disappeared, as she moved houses and cities for work.

She often thought about those days, the gym, the badminton and him. Yet it passed; the moment passed and she paused briefly before continuing her journey, not dissimilar to riding the rapids. 

 

Guest post - Shady Dell Music & Memories

Hello,

I would like to introduce to you a fellow blogger by the name of Tom, who hosts the Shady Dell Music & Memories @ blogspot. Tom, aka Shady Del, it is my pleasure to present you on writing the rapids.


Here you go......


The Shady Dell, upon which my blog Shady Dell Music & Memories is based, was a popular hangout for teenagers located on the outskirts of York, Pennsylvania, U.S.A.


The Dell consisted of a restaurant on the first floor of an old three story brick house and a dance hall attached to a barn.  For decades, beginning in the mid 1940s, the Dell was owned and operated by John Ettline and his wife Helen. In the 60s, the Dell became my home away from home and I, as one of the venue’s regular patrons, was known as a “Dell rat.”

This is the true story of a carefully guarded secret that was kept at the Shady Dell for decades, a secret hidden in the attic on the third floor of the house.

John Ettline routinely carried a nightstick in a holster as he made his nightly rounds of the Dell. The logical explanation would be that he armed himself with a billy club to subdue unruly guests in the event that a scuffle broke out in the dance hall or parking lot. However, there was another reason why John carried a club.

John and Helen were secretly operating a safe house, a shelter for battered and abused women. (Helen herself was a fugitive from an abusive relationship when she married John.) The Ettlines allowed women who were victims of domestic violence to stay in the attic until they could find shelter elsewhere. It boggles my mind to think of myself and hundreds of other Dell rats singing, dancing and partying down below whilst women in crisis were hunkered down in the attic out of harm's way, a scene reminiscent of The Diary of Anne Frank.  In essence the Shady Dell provided the same services to women in crisis that government agencies and organizations offer today.

Only a few members of the Ettline family knew that the Dell doubled as a secret shelter for women. It was feared that if too many people knew, word would inevitably leak out and male abusers would converge on the Dell, confront John, and try to drag their women home. To prepare for a worst case scenario, John Ettline spoke boldly and carried a big stick.

Following the attempted assassination of U.S. President Ronald Reagan, I learned a fascinating fact about the Secret Service.  When shots ring out, most of us instinctively move in the opposite direction.  SS agents are trained to move toward the source of the shooting and place themselves directly in the line of fire.  If you think about it, John and Helen were much the same. They moved toward trouble, not away from it. Instead of sitting back and waiting for a social service agency to step in and handle the problem, the Ettlines assumed responsibility for the community's battered women and teenage runaways.  John and Helen didn't wait for the holiday season to get into the spirit of giving. They opened their doors and their hearts.  Their kindness, compassion and generosity kept the holiday spirit alive all year ‘round!


Thanks Tom - that was a fascinating read and now I truly know the meaning when 'secrets in the attic' is bandied about. As your story attests it was for a very good reason - and I am sure those women appreciated the haven created by the wonderful Ettlines.

I love your analogy about the Ettlines running towards trouble; how true placing themselves directly in the line of fire and not only facing the problem head on but also dealing with it at the same time. It's a very pertinent story representing the climate of the 60s at the time with the enormous social change sweeping industrialised nations.

Thanks too for supplying below photos - the beautiful attic and haven, courtesy of Shady Dell Music & Memories:

The Shady Dell 

Tom, aka Shady Del, a regular patron at the Shady Dell and known as a "Dell Rat"