Songs from the North of Melbourne

Today I decided that it was winter. We've got the heater on at my house, I've just put a flannelette sheet on my bed, and I've whipped out my vinyl of "Spirit of Eden" by Talk Talk.

Now, in Melbourne it doesn't matter what actual season it technically is. Right now, being still only April, it would officially be autumn. But that's not the point. In Melbourne, winter is a feeling, an attitude, and a way of life. Nowhere in Australia does winter like Melbourne. You could even say that Melbourne is a city that can only be truly appreciated in winter, especially when you're in the north, and the only thing resembling a beach for you is the north shore of Coburg Lake.

And, when you've got Mark Hollis to keep you company for the winter, you'll almost wish that winter could begin in April. There's something comforting about winter after an oppressively hot summer. It somehow refreshes you. Everything feels a bit more cosy. And perhaps it's the way that the crackle of vinyl resembles a fireplace, but there's something very wintry, and simultaneously warm, about listening to a record. You don't want to think of fireplaces in summer. But in winter, there's scarcely a more pleasant thought.

The opening, slow-fading-in sound of the cor anglais in "The Rainbow" is the perfect beginning to a wintry night in. Everything is peaceful, dreamy and incredibly soothing from that moment on, perhaps the most peaceful, dreamy and soothing moment being the sound of the choir singing in the background of "I Believe In You". Nothing moves quickly on this album, nor should it, because it's an album that's there to lull you to sleep, or to keep you warm and comfortable while you take refuge from the heat of the summer just ended, and from the cold outside.

Have I sold you? I hope so. Go and buy "Spirit of Eden", light a fireplace, put the record on (yes, it should be a record, although the actual fireplace could be enough) and enjoy the winter. You won't regret it.

That's what I'm planning on doing - just, sadly, without the fireplace.

Silver lining

It's very easy at the end of a long day to let a difficult, challenging or upsetting conclusion taint how the rest of the day is seen. When you don't have a lot of energy left, minor problems become substantial, and substantial problems - well you can only imagine what happens to them.

But problems - large or small - have a tendency towards obscuring everything good and exciting about a day, which is hardly good for a balanced perspective.

Today ended badly. Let's just say that. But there was still much in there to be happy and thankful about. And the day isn't over yet anyway. There's still time to let things improve - in my mind, if nowhere else. Because the problems that emerged today are hardly worth ruining a perfectly good day.

It's not rocket science, as they say, but easy enough to forget. I'm going to try to remember it today.

A man's got to have a hobby

The other day one of my students asked me "what I do" for fun, and I had to pause to think, and then just evaded the question (quite smoothly, I think) - perhaps because I couldn't think of anything, perhaps because the only things I could think of would seem strange and nerdish to a teenage boy. Or perhaps I just don't have a life; I'm not sure.

But the question made me think of a sketch from the truly odd British comedy series "Big Train" in which some men are talking to Mother Teresa, who has her diary out and is trying to find a time when she is free to make an appointment with them. Finding that she is booked up for the next several months, she says, "But I do like the idea of paint-balling."

Like in all "Big Train" sketches, the punch-line is submerged somewhere within long, awkward silences, but it's clear enough there - as if Mother Teresa would ever go paint-balling. Haha.

And why is the idea so absurd? Because Mother Teresa had more important things to do.

I'm not really one for paint-balling, but I wonder if anything in my life is so important that I don't have time for a hobby.

Or maybe I'm just too busy blogging to do anything else.

What to do, what a to-do

I could spend much of a lifetime just reading the books that I have borrowed from other people and the books that I have bought and never read. If I then tried to read all the books that I intended to read, there'd be at least another lifetime taken up with nothing other than that.

I could also spend a lifetime helping all the people that I care about, responding to all the causes that I see around me. Only, I wouldn't also have time to buy groceries, or pay the bills, or go to the doctor, or buy petrol, or...just sit.

And I could spend my life reading the Bible and meditating on God's Word. Only, I wouldn't have time to live it out, and to help others, and to buy groceries, pay the bills, go to the doctor, buy petrol, just sit, or...read all the books that I've borrowed from other people, all the books that I have bought and never read, and all the books that I intend to read. Not to mention...just sitting.

Or I could travel. I could see all the countries in the world that I want to see, learn about all the cultures that interest me. Or I could get on top of all my marking, lesson preparation, paperwork, professional development, professional knowledge...and so on. But there'd be no time for...anything else.

Life, in short, is too short. There's just not enough time for everything.

Just as well that here, now, this life, isn't everything.

Self-awareness

A comment from a work friend recently:

"You know how we're always complaining about how annoying everyone else is? Well, I've started to realise how annoying I am to other people."

My reply: "No, we're charming, lovely people. We don't annoy anyone."

I was joking, of course.

Hmm.

Son, I loved you at your darkest

Recently, I have become a bit of an exponent of a style of music that I like to call "Chremo" - Christian emo.

Why, you may wonder? Certainly, for some the two terms have no relation to each other. How far that is from the truth. I'll explain in a moment.

It was a very interesting first term to this year - a very challenging, and, at times, deflating one. And my holidays, while pretty restful, didn't leave me feeling much better. So this term has begun with me feeling a little fragile - although that's not a terribly manly word to use - and feeling a bit afraid of getting as substantially deflated as I found myself by the end of last term.

This morning, on the road to work, I listened to a CD I hadn't pulled out in a few months - As Cities Burn's 2007 release, "Come Now Sleep" - and I was reminded, as if I needed reminding, of why we need more Chremo. Or at least, why the world is a better place for the Chremo that we have.

Typically, Pentacostal Christianity is so obsessed with a constant sense of victory that, like my aunt once very perceptively said, they "don't do melancholy". And evangelical Christianity, if we're going to talk in generalities, does not often do melancholy either. Although there's not the same determination to be in all things not just victorious but joyful, there's not a lot of room for doubt either. Evangelicals don't tend to put out a lot of music, and, when they do, it's focused mostly on proclaiming the gospel, which doesn't exactly allow you to express a sense of detachment from God.

Enter Chremo, which, like its secular siblings and cousins emo, screamo and emo-core, is filled with doubt, disillusionment, uncertainty and, above all else, melancholy, and yet it looks to God, and addresses all of life's questions to God.

All this can be seen perfectly in "Contact", the wonderful opening track to "Come Now Sleep", which asks, "God, does grace reach to this side of madness? Because I know this can't be the great peace we all seek."

Hearing that line this morning made me think of the name of ASB's first album, "Son, I Loved You at Your Darkest." And that name, this morning, felt like an answer to the question that "Contact" asks. Yes, grace does reach everywhere, whatever point on the spectrum between joy and misery, victory and madness. Wherever you lie, grace reaches out, because, as we will find one day, God loved us at our darkest.

That's something I think I'll hold onto this term.

A Do-Something Day

So the Easter holidays are now over - the much-needed break after an extremely busy term.

Given that the term was only eight weeks long, it's a little hard to believe just how exhausted I was at the end of it. Certainly, shorter terms are more intense, in that everything is simply compacted. The very same issues with starting and finishing the term remain, with little in the middle - much like a flight that is all ascent and descent, with almost no leveling out.

That said, I know that I overworked myself chronically last term, something that I really shouldn't be proud of. There's nothing glorious or worthwhile in running yourself into the ground, no matter how noble your job. If it prevents you from functioning at the end of it all, it was hardly worth it. Certainly, it's not sustainable.

But, much as I have needed the last two weeks off, I have also had a lot to do in preparation for the new term, and in response to the term now ended. While rest was completely necessary, so was breaking the back of that awful backlog of marking, paper-work etc., not to mention all the preparation that is fairly important if you plan on doing the job properly.

It's very difficult to find the balance between rest and work. On days like today - days, that is, of insane activity - it's tempting to let a few things slide. But I know that I'll only suffer the consequences of that later in the term. I also know that starting the term tomorrow with a large amount of work still unfinished is only going to keep me from ever having a chance of being up-to-date with my work for the rest of the term.

Nevertheless, today was also a wonderful day of rest, the first half, from 8:30am to 3pm, spent with my church community - and what a lovely rest it was.

So maybe today I found a balance between the two. Let's hope I can find that balance more consistently this term.