What Does A Conductor Do?

Lately, I have been privileged to witness a number of conductors in action. Leaping Sebastian Lang-Lessing being my favourite. It is a beautiful, tense and intriguing affair. The conductor's ability to read the entire score alone is impressive. But what they can draw from an orchestra is incredible. And, on the weekend, I learnt that we have a conductor in the family. A woman! The treasures are always hidden.

Here is an example of what a conductor does. It has an old world innocence that is alive and well in the world of orchestral music today. To watch this you may need to know that a "long hair" is a person who loves classical music. Like me. And, perhaps you.

Oh and this YouTube video will make you laugh, should you watch it...or at least grin. The orchestra even play a passage of music "backwards".

The End of a Day

Ignorance, Australia and Hate

In Nazi Germany, Hitler targeted gays. Hence, the pink triangle. The badge worn by men imprisoned for their homosexuality in concentration camps . The triangle has since been inverted and reclaimed as a symbol for gay rights. We, need it. In South Africa, last year, for instance, there were over 71,000 rapes against women recorded. Many of these were what have been called 'corrective rapes' i.e. the women were targeted because they were lesbian.

In Australia, things are much better. There is a kind of freedom here. Discrimination continues, in a matter of fact way, but progress has been substantial over the past 40 years. Many people now tolerate lesbians and gay men. Hell, some of their best friends, colleagues and even family members are gay or lesbian. Though being relatively invisible seems to help. Not everyone is out and proud. For many Australians who are gay or lesbian, the risks involved in being 'out' are assessed and it is considered not worth the battle. Many are in positions of power and are in the closet. Say no more.

And, today I am reminded of why. In the papers today the editor ran headlines like: Fielding likens same-sex marriage to incest. OMG. One has to wonder. The media has power. Senator Fielding has power. Power to spread ignorance and incite hate. This is not okay.

Yesterday, Family First senator, Steve Fielding compared same-sex marriages to incest when a Senate inquiry recommended against allowing gay marriage in Australia. Our society has Judaeo-Christian roots and heterosexuals are in the majority so the Senate's recommendation comes as no surprise. Such is the nature of democracy. Discrimination is only a vote away.

If you think being in the minority and being treated like this feels okay...think again. And to add something additionally toxic to the injury, this is what Senator Fielding had to say on the issue:

''A bloke cannot marry his brother; it is not right,'' he said. ''A woman cannot marry their sister; it is not right. A bloke cannot marry a bloke because it is not right, and a female cannot marry a female because it is not right. I don't support this.''

The logic is lost on me. Because there is none. I do not want to marry my sister. My brother did not want to marry my other brothers. That ten percent of the world's population has always been gay or lesbian may come as a surprise to Fielding. That he is in power comes as a surprise to me.

His words are damaging, destructive and hateful. Not to mention ignorant. He ought not be in a position of power. And, if you think his inflammatory words have no impact out on the streets, in workplaces and in homes...think again.

Our Planet

©Hiroshi Watanabe

Marwari Stallions #1

© Tom Chambers

Last Days

© Alec Soth

The Night Cockatoo

I am in love. This is no secret. In fact, now, it's as loud as Stravinsky talking to Patrick White over a bottle of red. That my lover is beautiful is not hidden from anyone either. She has rare gifts like X-ray perceptiveness, world class musicality and a keen intelligence that can cleave body from mind and put them back together again. She can also make the best espressos in the whole wide world on a shiny machine she works like a steam engine.

And this, of course, is just the beginning.

Being in her presence I feel whole. I am joyful. Lucky, I know. And when I part from her? Well, that's when it gets really interesting.

You see the universe seems to support this partnership. Kindness and true love are blessed by the gods, it seems. So they have sent me a messenger, of sorts. A reminder, if you will. Because quite frankly, sometimes I have trouble keeping the faith. At these moments, I look toward the burning sun that is keeping me warm and filling me with light and I wonder why the Willie Wagtail is dancing about my feet. I wonder when the rain will come. But now in these times of melancholy, of sudden darkness comes illumination.

Yep, the Sulphur Crested Cockatoo arrives.

One of the first times this happens is in Sydney. After watching my lover perform at Angel Place and hearing the most beautiful music and loving her for days and nights, we have to separate. I say goodbye to her and her instrument at the airport. On the train journey back to the hotel, I stop at Circular Quay. I walk to the Botanical Gardens where suddenly I feel incredibly sad. Hmm. What will happen in the future? I think. How will this work? And, I look across the road and there they are. Two cockatoos roadside. I smile and walk toward them. I watch them as they eat and play comfortably together. For some reason, I get the feeling that they have been together, forever. Cockatoos, I have read, can live up to eighty years in captivity and do indeed partner for life. So, my impression is highly likely, right.

On another occasion, I climb onto the shuttle bus at the Melbourne Airport after leaving my lover. The sky is grey and there seems to be concrete and asphalt everywhere. Why am I here? I think. I look across toward the car park that rises up like a rectangular mountain. I feel lonely. And, then I see the movement of white wings. Uh huh. Again, the cockatoos. Flying toward me from the cliff face of the car park are a pair of them. You're kidding, I think. Then, grin. I understand what they mean.

Everything is going to be alright.

The message of the cockatoo comes like a burst of light. Like a booster. One that charges me, propelling me forward on my journey, reminding me that I am loved. But on this night it is different. I am walking home from work and in the distance, in the darkness, I hear the sulphur crested cockatoo. I have never heard a cockatoo call at night before. Have you? I look up toward the hilltop, try to pinpoint her position in the darkness. She is really calling. In my heart, I know her message. My lover wants to talk with me. This is what I hear, this is what I know.

I don't own a mobile and long distance calls aren't on my dance card either but on this night I take in the cockatoo's message. I check in with my lover. Yep, she does indeed want to speak with me. At the time the cockatoo called, she wanted to ring me but resisted because she didn't want to alarm me. She had heard some bad news that had awoken a fear. One to do with thieves. One arising from an experience I had shared with her. Men breaking into homes in the night can do that, trust me. We communicate our love, our concern and before I sleep I thank the Night Cockatoo.

My lover and I are both warriors of sorts. Alive to the moment, courageous. And, usually when we part we do so bravely, strongly and lovingly but on this afternoon we feel sad. It will be a while until we see one another again. And, while I am driving home before taking her to the station, I say we need a cockatoo to cheer us up. Oh boy. Yes, I kid you not. Right beside the wheel of my car, roadside, on the gutter, appears a beautiful, sulphur crested cockatoo. I am now, speechless. I have driven along this main busy suburban road a thousand times in my life ...maybe more and I have never, ever, seen a cockatoo. Let alone one perched on the concrete as if she is waiting for a taxi. We stop, wind down the windows and talk with her. And, laugh for the rest of our time together.

Scientists would have a field day with me, I know. Words like coincidence and statistics would reach my ears, bounce about. And, in turn, my ears, would close like wings. I would smile like Mona Lisa while other words like rational and logic float about me. There is no way to explain mystery, I would say and watch them walk away. Shaking their heads and raising their hands to the gods in exasperation.

I would call after them, tell them about last weekend.

It is late in the day, early evening, in fact and I have just run a workshop and returned home. Here, in my small apartment with its beautiful garden, I yearn for my lover, deeply. Sadly. And, this is when I hear the cockatoo cry. I walk to the back door and see her appear in the sky, watch her fly toward me, glide about overhead, circling me in the dying light, in a soft breeze. My ribcage floods with light. I am now a believer.

Halcyon Days Again

Television Aerials and Cockatoos

Last night before I went to sleep, I wondered where my local cockatoos had gone, where they might be flying to lately...and I thought how lovely it would be if they came to visit in my backyard.

Huh. Hey presto. Two morning visitors.

This is part of a bigger story. A mystery, if you like. Which I'll write about soon.

I Must Write Down What's Happening

I must write down what's happening,
not forgetting anyone.
It's true that suddenly I grow tired,
I look at the stars,
I lie down in the grass, an insect
the color of a violin goes by,
I place my arm across a small breast
or beneath the waist of the woman I love,
and I look at the hard
velvet
of the night trembling
with frozen constellations,
then
I feel a wave of mysteries
rising in my soul,
childhood,
weeping in corners...

From The Invisible Man, Pablo Neruda