Night in the Guesthouse

                         Welcome!

last of the portulaca

Cooler days and a hint of rain. Now the garden can start to recover from the heat and dryness of summer with new growth for the evergreens and colour change for the deciduous. Our local garden centre sold off apple trees for a song recently, so I gladly bought two. They’ll be a surprise when they eventually fruit as we have no idea what varieties they are (the reason for the ‘fire sale’). In spite of possums, birds and unpredictable seasons, I love growing our own food. It hasn’t paid off this year except in the joy of the attempt. I’m still hoping the tomatoes will produce fruit before the weather gets too cold.

Another joy I experienced recently was the launch of the poetry anthology Women’s Work, including one of mine. This is an attractively produced volume, compiled by Libby Hathorn and Rachael Bailey, celebrating various arenas of women’s activities, with insight, humour, compassion, energy, and imagination in a diversity of styles.  Find out more here: Women’s Work.

You may recall I visited Cambodia earlier in the year. Here is a poem I wrote while there.

Night in the Guesthouse

Straight lines of light in the darkened room

remind me of the strokes of a dislocated Chinese character.

Where do they come from –

vertical streaks on the walls,

angled shafts on the ceiling?

Their ordered randomness in this unfamiliar space

disturbs me.

I prowl the room for understanding,

touching the luminous lines

as if the walls could reveal the physics of light

and dissolve the uneasiness of being a foreigner.

See you next time!

Claire Belberg

Busy + a new anthology

                         Welcome!
Relief! After a week of heat and unaccustomed humidity, we have a few mild days before the heat strikes again. Just the break I needed to plant out late tomatoes and herbs (some of which had been sitting on my kitchen window sill for too long). I'm not a diligent gardener, as much as I'd like the fruits of such diligence, but some parts of the garden enjoy my neglect - like this 'busy' plant, so named because it takes over my garden in the same way busyness hijacks my life. A case of the good being the enemy of the best, or the tyranny of the urgent over the important. We have many adages that recognise this problem, but it's a constant battle to find the balance between worthwhile effort and sheer frenzy. For once, my photo and my poem join forces...(sorry, the photo disappeared from the blog. Don't quite know how that happens - maybe the shock of integration?!)

Busy

In the busyness of modern life,

A world of action, techno-hype,

Something is lacking.

Emptiness drives us to strive.

Where is the meaning?

Is this why I'm alive?

Does the activity make its own worth?

If I do more, do I score more highly?

If I stop, will I cease?

Will it be as if I'd never existed?

I stop.

I discover Being.

I begin to sense I really am.

If I do nothing, nothing “useful,”

I start to know I'm worth something.

I find myself co-living, not competing,

Made to be “with,” not “ahead”.

Stillness calls me to live:

When I feel empty, I stop.

My days are full but not in “busy's” sense;

I take my fill in Being, still, content.

(For those with an interest in poetic technicalities, this is a chiastic structure such as used in Hebrew poetry in the Old Testament Bible.)

An announcement: the latest volume of short stories, poems, plays and songs by the students, staff and friends of Tabor Adelaide's creative writing department is now available. It includes a story for children by me, two original Christmas carols by my husband, and plenty of other fun and thoughtful pieces. Christmas Tales can be purchased from the college by phone (+61 8 8373 8777) for AUD$12 plus postage and handling. 

Until next week…
Claire Belberg