When God touched the Dash.

When God touched the Dash.

I was driving my bus towards the city on Henley Beach Road, my mind mulling distantly over the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises which had been assigned for me that week, which were specifically the events and occasions that happened whilst Christ walked his road to Calvary. I used my imagination and feelings to reflect upon “The Last Supper” and the “washing of the disciples feet” and to think upon Jesus as he prayed during his severe trial in the Garden of Gethsemane. There is so much love emitted by the Lord at this time, however there is a sad feeling at the end of the Last Supper, as they all sing a hymn ... (the disciples have no idea of what is about to happen, but they know something is in the wind: Might they betray Jesus somehow as he had suggested someone would? What was happening here?).

Anyway, I was pondering these things in the back of my mind, when I was suddenly struck with a strong reminiscence of the last time I saw my Papa, years ago. My beautiful grandfather was dying, and I went to see him alone for what was to be the last time. During my time with him, he told me he loved me, even though he was in a trance-like semi-unconscious state. Suddenly, his eyes beamed and he smiled the most beautiful smile, and he looked up. I’ve never seen him as delighted and as happy as at that moment, and in my heart I truly believe he was seeing into heavenly realms. But then that subsided, and we spent some more time together, and he became sad again as we said our goodbyes, and I thought to myself that the saddest thing Papa was feeling, was not that he was going to die, but that he was leaving me behind. He was going to miss me.

As I reflected upon this thought, I had to stop my bus, as the traffic lights had gone red, and I found myself at the Lochley’s intersection, in front of the Anglican Parish of Lochleys church, beneath the large sculpture of the Crucified Christ that overlooks the main road there. I crossed my heart as I usually do when I pass that spot, and gazed upon the image. My front window was slightly open, and a cool gentle breeze touched upon my face. Suddenly a single leaf, fluttered through and landed upon the dashboard of my bus. In the sunlight, the leaf glowed with a luminous ochre-red fluorescence, but the top edges of the leaf were a beautiful jade-green colour. I quickly gazed around and noticed it was a different type of leaf from any of the trees I saw around me, and concluded it may have 

come from the roof of the bus. It was not from this place.

I held the leaf briefly, as the intersection lights changed colour again, signalling that my journey must continue, and I said another quick prayer. For me, this was a God moment, and a symbol of my reflections at that time as being blessed by my Saviour. When Jesus was with his disciples during those last moments, the torment was creeping upon him, like that ochre-red shade upon that leaf. He only had a few short moments left, and one of his greatest sadnesses, was that he would miss his friends. Every moment is precious beloved.  Let us treasure one another whilst we have the opportunity.  

My Journey to Busking, Part 2 - Cracks in the Footpath..

Looking into the tree, I could see the brilliant sparkle of the glowing sun flickering on and off. The cool breeze sent the leaves of the tree on a dance that blocked and then unblocked the path of light that had travelled a vast stretch of space and time to reach me. The magnificent tree glowed as the sunlight passed through the leaves, transforming it into a luminous green delight. 

I placed my guitar case on the ground, put the guitar strap over my shoulder. “This is a perfect place to busk”, I whispered to myself. And as my guitar filled the air with music, I wondered if the people who passed by ever stopped to consider the beauty of the dappled light that reflected off their skin.

As a new busker, I love it when I find a good place to play. I have discovered that one of the most difficult things is actually finding a suitable place. There are many things to consider if you want to busk lawfully in Adelaide. There are rules, and if you break them you will be fined. 

Some of the rules are... You cannot “adversely affect or disturb the peace, comfort or convenience of users of a public place”. You must not “undertake an activity for more than 30 minutes in one location, use the same location more than once a day, obstruct or impede the flow of pedestrians or vehicular traffic”. You are not allowed to busk in front of landmark buildings, or businesses. etc. etc. All good rules for a decent city, however it does make finding suitable good places to busk difficult. It’s a bit like finding cracks in the footpath.

Have you ever noticed how even the strongest cement slabs and carefully placed pavers cannot stop the peep of tender leaves growing in and around them? There’s nothing you can do to stop life oozing out of this good earth. Eventually, no matter how toxic the environment, life will burst through. Sometimes, when I see a tree clinging precariously on a rocky cliff or discover plants growing through a sidewalk I have to step back and marvel at how incredible it is. How can something grow in such harsh inhospitable conditions?. It fills me with wonder and amazement. Life is… and it is oozing out everywhere.

Busking, to me is like that sunlight shining through the trees, and life growing in the cracks of the footpath. It hints to deeper things, to life under the surface. The heart of humanity is revealed and expressed as it shines through in the raw poetic expression, humour and art of street performance. It is tender and fragile... but it is resolute, determined, unyielding, and a miracle. It gives of itself, where it finds a place to do so. The human heart and soul won’t be destroyed by a concrete monster, and the creative expression of our experience will never be silenced. After all, we are made in the image of God. We are born to be touched by sunlight, and we will grow through the cracks of the pavement to reach it. Life is. It is all around us. It's just that sometimes we are too busy, or lost in our own world of dead things to notice... and we walk by without even knowing that golden beams of sunlight adorned our faces with its beauty. 

Brian Maunder is the author-illustrator of the 

children's picture book Polly's Little Kite.

Website: brianmaunder.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/PollysLittleKite

Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/book/show/20862325-polly-s-little-kite

Review: www.goodbookreviews.org.uk