We set aside this day to
commemorate a moment in history when our country took its place on the world
stage alongside the Allied troops, thrown into a battlefield on an almost
suicidal mission. The stories from that little cove in Gallipoli have become part
of this country’s mythology, and have followed our troops all over the globe
into countless war zones since.
I recently read Alex
Miller’s novel The Ancestor Game, an
interesting delve into the lives of several characters from foreign shores living
in Australia before, during and after the Second World War. Lang Tzu is
Chinese, and his telling of the invention of the gazebo structure made me think
about those who take on the roles of lookouts and sentries while the remainder
of the troops can rest in the knowledge that their welfare is of prime concern.
Commonly seen as an
ornamental structure in a traditional English garden, the gazebo was actually a
Chinese invention, a room built on to the roof of a family home for the purpose
of looking out over the fields for the approach of any enemy forces. At dawn
each day, the father would head up to the gazebo to sit for many hours watching
and waiting in order to protect his family and village, but over the
generations, as rivalries ceased and the need to keep watch became unnecessary,
the gazebo lost its original purpose. With the advent of peace though, an
interesting phenomenon began to emerge.
Those who’d sat for hours and watched began to miss
the solitary time they’d spent in the gazebo…The long hours alone had revealed
to them something which they could otherwise never have discovered for
themselves in the world at ground level. Alone in the gazebo they had learned
how to reflect on their experience. They had discovered the hidden beauties of
solitary contemplation.
To gaze inward had become an established custom with
them, and they found when they came down that they could no longer live happily
without it…In the busy world of the daily routine of the village, where no one
ever had a moment to stop and think but where everyone had to either get on or
risk falling behind, those who had come down from their gazebos now found
themselves to be strangers.
They soon found it necessary
to return to their gazebos in order to satisfy the deep need for solitary reflection,
in many cases abandoning their families and responsibilities to the extent
where they moved or were forced to remove their rooftop gazebos and relocate
them away from the house. Hence the modern day gazebo has become a structure
situated away from the house, a retreat from the business of the day, a place
to sit and rest and turn one’s thoughts inward while looking outward on the
surroundings.
Some of us fear the world of
contemplation and reflection. It can easily spiral into a self deprecating ‘woe
is me’ or ‘I’m a failure’ navel gazing type of thing, so we prefer to keep
barrelling on, maintaining a level of busy-ness which leaves no room for setting
apart quiet times to think about the bigger picture and where we fit in it all.
Many fear darkening the
doorway of a church and sitting in a pew in case they are challenged by
something said from the pulpit, causing them to examine their lives. But no one
has that same fear when it comes to attending a dawn service on Anzac Day. We
listen with reverence to the words spoken on this sacred day, and pause to
reflect not only what those who have gone before us have done, but on whether
or not we would have the same degree of courage should we have to face such
dire circumstances. It is often in those moments we feel we come up wanting,
but there is also a sense of humility, inspiration and hope.
Reflection isn’t totally an
inward activity. In contemplating not only who we are, but who and what we
could be, the world beyond our own little bubble takes on more significance. The benefits of time spent alone can have
profound and far reaching ramifications as we find fresh ways of expressing who
we are, as well as serving those around us. We may not have a gazebo to retreat
to, but finding a quiet place on a regular basis to monitor how we’re going,
how our inner world is standing up under day to day pressures, whether what
we’re doing is bringing personal fulfilment, whether we’re contributing to the
lives of others rather than taking, must surely be a positive thing.
Fascinating that this ancient
structure designed to keep a sharp lookout for the enemy may have just lived up
to its original purpose. Looking outward, while working on our emotional and
spiritual well being, actually could alert us to the danger signs of self
interest and complacency.
