I have a story about four books. It pertains to life, desire,love and probably surfing in an

obscure way.It is only partly written as yet. The story is about books and the

strange occurrences and influences of four particular books over a short

period of time in my life. This may or may not interest you. It might be completely

inane to you. Whatever. I plan to present this over four consecutive posts.

I have a history of posting on this site in an idiom that some, possibly many, deem

inappropriate. Ramblings about massacres and population density etc and postings

that have inflamed the passion of of the RED THUMB. Accepting criticism I have

resolved in future posts to hand control over to the democratic process. In other

words it is all up to you. I envisage an input of about four separate posts. That

should be sufficient to complete the tale. If you are interested in the tale of four

books then press the green thumb. If not.....use the red.

Book two

There is a danger in writing and in life of overstating a situation. There is a propensity

to exaggerate the height, the width, the enormity of things. The fish was THIS long

the waves were this BIG etc. I fear that this may be so with The Four Books. That

some will expect a revelation or enlightenment of sorts. That some will think that the

reason for posting this is to make a salient point. Well yes it is, in some way but don’t

expect grandeur. There are no car chases. No saving of dolphins. Like Seinfeld it

really is a story about nothing.

There was a wonderful second hand record and book shop in Penrith. In it I found a

remarkable book. Written by an Irish woman it told of the unenviable existence she

had endured. Sexually molested as a child, raised by a drunken thief, she found

herself on the streets as a young woman. Pack raped by four assailants her life was a

litany of woe. Yet strangely enough it was the making of her. Familiar with life on the

streets, she found time later when her life had turned for the better, to help street

kids. She eventually found her way to Vietnam, post war and found kids outside her

hotel living on insects. She established a shelter for street kids and that

now has grown to a medical centre, school, outreach programs, well digging etc.

I read the book and felt transfixed by it. I wanted to be part of this. It was so

powerful and inspiring.

She was the proof to the saying “It’s not what happens to you, that matters, but

what you do with what happens to you”

The book is called Bridge Across My Sorrows by Christina Noble. Her organisation is

called the Christina Noble Children’s Foundation.

When I returned to Perth I was caught up in work and family again and the book and

its message became secondary. The desire to be involved was still there but buried

by the day to day traffic.

My daughter phoned from Melbourne

She needed a co driver to bring her car and belongings back across the Nullarbor to

Perth.

Was I interested? Of course I was.

I flew to Melbourne and set about helping my daughter pack years of her life into a

Mitsubishi Hatchback.

A surprise!

Because it is my birthday, my daughter has arranged a get together at an outdoor

beer garden. It is a get together for her, but being from out of town I know very few

of the guests.

I find myself across the table from an attractive woman. We engage in conversation

and in due course I tell her my views of the wonder of travel. The serendipity that

can occur. I relate the story of the golf book on the bulk rubbish collection.

I then ask her what she does.

She tells me that she is the Australian representative of the Christina Noble Children’s

foundation.

I stand up and hug her.

Here it is.

The fourth book

The wrap up, the reason for this being written.

Unfortunately I can’t tell you the name of the author or even the name of the book. I

could probably look it up but really neither matter because it is the message that it

imparted that is what this is all about. The book was an autobiography by an

Australian woman. She had been raised to a simple life in a quiet country town and

had worked her way from there up into a prominent position in Australian politics.

Powerful and wealthy she ascribed her success to one basic tenet. One her father

had taught her. It was this.

Step up to the plate.

This didn’t mean eating more.

It is a baseball term meaning stepping up to present yourself to bat. To make yourself

available. Her philosophy involved finding her goal and instead of waiting for

opportunity to knock, she would actively pursue it.

I read the book during a quiet period at work. For a while I had toyed with the idea of

getting into kite surfing. Around that time it was still a relatively young sport. Now

seemed like a good opportunity to step up to the plate.. Taking my prompt from the

book I downloaded 20 pages off the net about kite surfing. How to kite surf, what

kite to use in what conditions, right board etc. Looking through the phone book I

found the number of a local kite surfing teacher. Finishing work I adjourned to a local

club where I met my wife at a social gathering for her work mates. The first person I

met at the gathering was a workmate of hers. The second person I met was the

colleague’s boyfriend. What sort of work did he do I inquired? Design and make

surfing kites was the reply. It turns out he was one of about twenty people in the

world (at that time) that designed and created kites for a living. What are the odds

of that? By the end of the week I had the latest prototype and was heading for

lessons. Step up to the plate.

Now that I have read the book it occurs to me that all the time right back to Penrith

what I had been doing was stepping up to the plate. That the seeming magic and

serendipity of my life at times was really a side product of stepping up.

In Perth I had been working as a basic clinician on the floors. I hated it. The

possibility of advancement was difficult and obstructed. My goal of working in the 3rd

world in aid almost unreachable. By accepting the locum at Penrith it allowed me to

work in advanced areas. My confidence grew. When I returned to Perth I quit my job

and worked for an agency. The experience gained from this led to me being offered

the coordinators role in another hospital. Within a short period I was in charge of

hospital. This contributed to my being chosen from a national field to lead a team

overseas to establish an aid program.

Within a few short years my goal had been reached

All along whenever I had made the next step it was a mixture of many factors. Desire

opportunity prayer etc yet there was one common thread. The magic happened

when I made one simple move

To step up to the plate.

japie said...

Thank you very much for sharing.

You're welcome.

That was good, well written!!