It is school holidays here in Melbourne so I am sharing my weekly freedom of the city with mums and little 'uns. It is not that I want to selfishly keep the place all to myself but I am used to making my way around freely, now that I know where I am going. I share at the weekend like everyone else but the week days belong to me, ME I say! So getting suddenly stuck on a narrow footpath behind a crocodile of children all walking at snail's pace, is just not on!
The library, my usual writing sanctuary in which to escape the chaos of hostel living, is not really much of a haven at the moment either. It is full of students taking up all the desk spaces and giggling over – oh I don't know what teenagers giggle over these days, same thing as they did in my adolescent years I guess. God I sound old. Old cranky reclusive writer. Next I'll be sharpening my walking stick and poking it at people.
Anyhow in order to find a different place of solitude in the big city I am on a sanctuary hunt today. This as you would expect takes in a few churches and Melbourne knows how to do structures of ostentatious worship pretty convincingly. The CBD has cathedrals for every Christian denomination. St Patrick's Catholic, St Michael's Presbyterian, St Paul's Anglican, saint this and martyr that, the Welsh Uniting Church, the Church of Our Lady Who Takes Pity on Hopeless Cases or something like that...the list goes on. And I have to say that it gets a bit like, seen one church, seen 'em all. I am impressed however with the Catholic cathedral, having been brought up on the less than inspiring St Pat's in Auckland. Its Melbourne namesake is so much – well – more. Gothic vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows, devotional annexes, guilt everywhere (of the gold kind as well) and flowers. Oh Mum would be in her element with the floral displays at Melbourne's St Pat's. I have taken a few photos to keep her happy. I met the cathedral cleaner, a side-burned rock 'n' roll drummer who sweeps in his spare time. He admitted to having bought Ugg boots to wear his first year on the job mopping the frigid stone floors. This huge building takes all week to clean and given the height of the ceilings, I don't envy him having to clear the cobwebs from the rafters.
Pipe organs too are a thing here. Majestic instruments with gargantuan pipes that regularly thunder out stirring devotional music. On Sunday's the city air resonates bellsong from 10.00am through to after four. It is easy to find places to raise the spirits on Sundays but during the week takes a bit more dedication and soul searching.
So next I try an Eastern religion by visiting the Hare Krishna vegetarian cafe Gopals, for some inner nourishment. I have always liked the food sharing philosophy of this Hindu division. As I understand it the preparation of food is communal with the spiritual, mental and physical energy of the cooks infused into the meal. I have tried to follow something of this nature with my personal culinary philosophy. I do not simply cook a meal for my guests, I prepare one. This requires careful consideration for some time in advance of what they would like to eat, what they are able to eat and how that can come together in the most nourishing and appealing way. So I am grateful today for my nine dollar full plate of energising kofta, bean and corn croquette, and fragrant rice with a wholemeal roll to soak up the tomato chilli sauce. I waste nothing on this delicious plate thus paying homage to my hosts who made such a rich offering for me. This meal is so substantial that it will last me the rest of the day and is greatly appreciated.
One of the unusual inner city havens I have found is something called the Mingary which, was added in 1999 to an annexe of St Michael's Church. This small dimly lit enclosure is “a quiet place where the passer-by can pause awhile.” The cave-like room comprises six chairs circling a central altar of stone, trickling water and flickering light.
Enter in silence. This room is extremely restful even though you can hear the traffic noise on the street just beyond the open door.
Sit in silence. There is not a sound from those of us meditating in this space as we feel a surrounding peace and harmony like the quiet of night.
Leave in silence. And when I am restored and ready to go I gather myself and depart. Not a word has passed my lips, not a thought has clouded my brain, not a moment has been lost in this place of serenity.
Mingary is a gaelic word meaning 'the quiet place' and I have found mine here.
Thank you Melbourne, I have found something to be grateful for today.
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