Watering Hole

The song Watering Hole on Missy Higgins’ album the ol’ razzle dazzle has had me thinking over the last few days. The image of a watering hole is a simple enough one to conjure up, but a watering hole in my head, well that takes a little more thought.

A watering hole, an oasis in the wilderness, a place to quench your thirst, rest in the shade, find shelter and refreshment. If dependent on sporadic rainfall, in good times the water is plentiful, a resource for many, but in bad times the water recedes until the ground is parched and cracks appear. Where there is a constant source feeding a waterhole, incredible pools of water can be found in the most unlikely desert places. You only need visit Uluru to see the wonder such an underground source can bring, and tapping into that life giving source on a spiritual or emotional level is just as crucial for survival and growth.

The watering hole in my head is not a void, it’s actually a source of great nourishment and rich with resources. Will I take the time to sit by its edge, draw from its depths what I need, or will I gaze into it as if into a deep well, and it can be pretty dark down there, and fear what might be brought to the surface. Self doubt, fear, criticism, apathy, whatever it is can all suck the life out of us and leave us parched. Led me into some waterhole thoughts of my own.

Respite from the scorching heat

A place to dabble weary feet

In waters cool and calm.

The shade of sturdy eucalypt

Protecting from the rays

Dappled on the surface

Through the gum’s outstretched limbs.

Drink it all in

In the daylight hours

Quench the craving thirst

And feel the restless spirit

Quietly come to rest.

Lay down by the water’s edge

As the sun sinks slowly down

See if sleep will come

For the noises of the night

Travel far.

Those who hide out

Through the day

Venture out at night

And come to take their fill

Just a stone’s throw from your feet

Dark shadows scraping on the ground

Furtive glances all around

Waiting for the enemy to strike.

Slither back, lean on the tree

Draw your knees up to your chest

Feel the pounding of your heart

As you search the water’s edge

And will the sun

To rise up from the east.

Sleep comes but oh so fleeting

Filled with images

Of dread and fright

But as the dawn sheds light

A morning breeze stirs gently

On the surface of the water

And the eucalypt whispers out a sigh.

All is calm

All is right.

Finding my Voice

I’ve never been much of a talker, not a great conversationalist, not well versed in the intricacies of world politics or economics or philosophies to the extent I could hold my own in any sort of intelligent debate or more light hearted repartee. The past week though has brought home that I would also not feel comfortable cloistering myself away under a vow of silence.

I’ve had no voice, literally. My allergy cum throat infection whatever it was and still is, resulted in my voice being reduced to a whisper and an occasional croak if I tried any harder, and it’s amazing how when you have no voice, you actually feel compelled to talk. I’m not one to pick up the phone and engage in long conversations, text constantly on the mobile, or send copious emails, but when you lose your basic means of communication, you feel like you start to lose touch.

Spending the Christmas period resting my body as well as my voice to try to recover has been an interesting experience. Reading, watching movies and the cricket, playing my new Missy Higgins CD the ol’ razzle dazzle…really loud, that was actually the most fun. Couldn’t help but get out of the chair, even danced around the room, once I’d pulled down the blind so the neighbours didn’t think I’d gone nuts. Even wrote a four page dissertation on some of the songs. Wonderful album, potent songs, reflecting something of Missy’s return from her own exile from the music scene, and what could be described as her personal wilderness experience.

The journey back which produced this album begins with..

I got a lot to say I just don’t know how to say it

I know all the rules I just can’t seem to play it

…..all I want is to remember

What came before this winter (Set Me on Fire)

I know all the lines to say

The part I’m expected to play

But in the reflection I am worlds away (Everyone’s Waiting)

Hello hello, is anybody there?

This disappearing act is getting harder to bear (Hello Hello)

Then you sense a gentle shift as she reflects on her self imposed exile, and responds to the stirrings in her own heart as she discovers again the source of the creative process.

I woke

to the sound

of a single note

ringing out. (All in my Head)

He told her when she played

Wings sprouted from her shoulder blades

And every bone inside her seemed to change (Sweet Arms of a Tune)

What an exquisite image, the witnessing of a re-birth, and I think for Missy judging from what interviews I’ve seen this is what this album has become for her. To bring the album to birth though would have been no simple journey. She had to believe she still had something to offer in terms of her music before the process could even begin, no doubt a lonely time, then to actually create the lyrics and music and bring the whole undertaking to completion, nothing short of amazing.

We all need to feel like we have something worth saying, even if it’s not in such an eloquent form. Or maybe just the need to be worth something to someone else, no matter what we say or how small our lives might seem. So how do we find our voice? How do I find my voice?

I imagine Missy Higgins spent a lot of time in quiet reflection before the words came again. The experiences which shape us can either be locked away, repressed to dull the pain or seen so insignificant as not to matter, or they can become a wellspring of resource from which to draw to express who we are.

I’m reading The Lost Threads by Tess Evans at the moment, and one of the characters, Finn, retreats to a Benedictine monastery following a traumatic experience. Though a foreign environment to what he is used to with the monks’ observance of times of silence, Finn’s healing begins, and he finds comfort from his times with Father Boniface.

…we all have to find redemption in our own way…The answer is in your heart and you will only hear the voice of your heart when all other thoughts are silent.

…the Silence isn’t designed to let you brood. It’s to give you space to listen.

For some that might be somewhat confronting, but to block out the distractions, retreat from the busy routines if only for a short while, allow ourselves time and space to reflect on who we are, who we could be, what makes us come alive.

What a gift.