Love, and Forgotten (Notes from an old Journal).

 

I noticed that I haven't posted an entry for some time. I came across this recent piece in my "miscellaneous file" and thought I'd post it here…

When you are in love, everything matters and nothing matters; all that really makes a difference is that you are with them, in time, place, or circumstance; the area can be elite parties, train platforms, stranded in peak hour traffic; a large and beautiful church in the heart of the city or alone in a crowded café talking about the first time met… time and circumstance can be any hour any situation, all that you know is that love is lovely, and only when the vagaries of existence inevitably move in, does one realize how vital the passing seconds and minutes of life can be.

The morning was perfect, the air crisp, clean, and the expressions on those who walked through the city streets towards various destinations smiled, some frowning with worry. Yet, at the same time, others looked blank, half asleep and seemingly meandering without purpose, last night's dreams hovering around their heads.

Realizing that I had never had the opportunity, she wanted to show me St. Patrick's Cathedral and looking up towards the cityscape, the church's spires pushed towards the clear blue autumn sky. Looking down and ahead, the traffic whizzed along the streets heavy and without respite, as she would hold fast to my arm, pushing forward and towards the curb, believing she was steadily guiding my body from specific danger.

We arrived at St. Patrick's, the neo-gothic spires grand, pointing tall towards the heavens, standing with time, suddenly realizing that this architectural marvel will continue existing when this body is long gone.

Walking into the church, we knew a memorial, an essential remembrance of an individual of influence was taking place, an Australian whose most extraordinary claim to fame was not his "time on the football field" or "involvement in organized crime" but his groundbreaking work into medical research. The church's pews were filled to maximum capacity, the medical community paying their respects to a medical researcher who made the history books, contributing to a greater understanding of the human body's processes.

We found ourselves, it seemed, amongst Melbourne's entire medical community, a day off from their duties with their families to attend the funeral of Dr. John Billings, the co-discoverer of the relationship between cervical mucus and fertility, resulting in what was then known as the "Billings Method" or re-named in the early 1970s by the World Health Organization as the "Billings Ovulation Method" (BOM). This discovery has led to many unwanted pregnancies being "guiltlessly" avoided. Dr. Billings began his research while assisting marriage consultancy for the Catholic Family Welfare Bureau in the 1950s. (1)

I thought that this is an individual whose work and legacy stand firm and should be acknowledged in our national media. But, still, it wasn't… somehow the mainstream media were more concerned on that particular news day with injured footy players and the private lives of Australian 'celebrities' overseas.

After leaving the funeral, we silently walked the church grounds, admiring the statues of the saints, observing the parched lawns, the Asian tourists, and one another.

Melbourne is a beautiful city in the autumn.

I felt so much admiration today: for the loss and lack of proper acknowledgment of a critical Australian of science, but also finding myself falling into a state of fuzzy sentimentality...love. Trying to harness these feelings into a rational view is all but impossible on this day, at least.

Attempting to connect the Heart and the Head is a never-ending task that has proven, according to the great writers of the last few centuries, an improbable, if not futile, endeavor.

Today was a moment where neither the past nor the future existed, and only the ongoing and pleasant seconds of the passing present.