The Seasons of Emilia

Part 1: The Winter.

"Man's life seems to me like a long weary night that would be intolerable if there were not occasional flashes of light, the sudden brightness of which is so comforting and wonderful, that the moments of their appearance cancel out and justify the years of darkness..."

From Gertrude, by Herman Hesse.

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1. The Meeting.

It was a grey and lonely day. The dreary light and solemn clouds weighed heavily on my already fragile psyche. Morning brought a flood of lost faces before me as I travelled into the city, leaving me spinning and dazed on the pinnacle of a plane self-imposed alienation. Paradoxically, it seemed that the closer I got to solitude, the less lonely existence seemed. The park I now occupied was a familiar and consoling place. Although many people flowed through its green boundaries, it possessed a strong sense of stillness and quietude. It allowed one to relax; to play the isolated observer without the extensive effort required to shun the vast world of social intercourse. Although my relationship with the park stretched far back into the previous year, since the end of the current university term it had almost become a daily occurrence to spend my time there. I would usually come at around 10 o'clock, notebook in hand -poised for sketching, poetry or general notes; staying well into the afternoon. Sitting in the park and observing things for that long almost every day could tell one a vast amount about existence -the falling leaves and fleeting sky; the chirping birds and chattering, scattered people, and the carbon-monoxide fumes wafting over from one of the nearby highways; disturbing the park's already fragile, green purity. Yet movement itself was most striking; nothing ever stopped changing, shifting. As the Indian and Chinese sages used to paradoxically state: 'the only permanence is the force of change'. What seemed long ago, in the early days I came to the park, thoughts like these would have moved me, inspired me, and I would sketch, write poetry or take notes in my book. But now it had somehow become empty; I felt as if a part of me had been lost. It all seemed beyond the ability to be captured; this elusive and dynamic reality of things shifting, forces interweaving, people meeting and parting, things being born, living and dying. In the past I had savoured the promise of artistic endeavour; it had been my love, my consolation, the bitter-sweet light in an otherwise lonely and overly cerebral existence...And now it seemed worthless. Reality was immutable, pulsing with an ever-changing paradoxical infinity, and it lay far beyond my talent to capture in any substantial manner. Despite the sense of loss however, looking over this didn't make me sad; the change rather embodied the very views which I had come to have, for the force of impermanence and change itself stood at the very centre of these. My loss of artistic enthusiasm was simply another example of these immutable forces at work. All that was left to do, I then believed, was to cultivate an acceptance of this impermanence and change. Logically, I figured this was the only next step.

Slowly, eventually, I returned from the abstracted plane of my thoughts to survey the day around me. The sky remained grey; its ominous drone unrelenting, yet despite this it was not altogether cold. The park stretched out in a veil of green, and the hour had brought much activity to the place. People walked their dogs, walked themselves or each other and lovers frolicked. I wasn't quiet sure whether their presence annoyed or consoled me. On the side of agitation and annoyance, I had the fact that solitude was particularly desirable to me at that instant; I would like to spend time alone with the trees and grass and wind. On the other hand, the still ambience of the place substituted, though somewhat inadequately, for this and the furthermore, the other people served as a preventative measure for loneliness; like the soothing nature of the television used for background noise -other fellow sources of concentrated electro-magnetism, -of consciousness. Smiling to myself, a familiar line flowed through my mind:

'Relativity strikes again.'

It happened on one of these innumerable days that a presence entered the park that would shift my world dramatically. I sat perched in one of my usual spots, against the base of an old tree; my notebook at my side, elbows resting neatly on my folded knees, my gaze vague and focused on nothing or nobody in particular. Three girls entered the park and began to casually walk around. They seemed rich and somewhat prissy, with that air of pedigree untouchability that was so common to the area. Strolling around in their winter coats, they talked and smiled enthusiastically about what I guessed to be trivial and material things. One of the girls however, seemed to elude this description and stood well apart from the other two. She was quite tall with dark red-hair, full pouting lips and a full-breasted figure. Dressed in a long grey coat that came almost to her ankles and wearing an abstracted and somewhat mysterious expression, she had the air and grace of a tragic beauty. The two other girls, -a tall thin blonde and a shorter brunette exchanged words and gestures endlessly...but the other girl, -the estranged third, wore a consistent expression....only changing it to absently affirm some point made by the others. This third girl I found strikingly beautiful. Although I would in no way be alone in my admiration of the girl, others may have remarked how pleasantly rare it was to see three such attractive young girls walking through the park together, whereas I would say that all three were attractive, but that only the third was 'beautiful'. She bore a searing depth which stood her apart from the other two, -an undeniable and other-worldly intensity, this girl. As she continued to walk around the park my attraction to her only grew stronger. I attempted to get back to my sketching, but again and again my eyes wandered in her direction... Often I was liable to this type of spontaneous obsession. It was an integral part of who I was; seeming to grow like a weed out of a deep necessity that told me to return to a world of laughter and fun and lightness. But I knew where they led me...these fancies and obsessions, - to only greater and more immense lands of pain and torment, and I had long ago learnt to tame them. For this reason I would have soon forgotten the girl if what happened next had not taken place. Continuing along the winding path, the girls came to a spot about thirty metres away from where I was seated. As they continued to walk and talk I moved my gaze from my book just as the red-haired beauty moved hers in my direction. At first I looked away defensively, shying away from her gaze as if she might enter my mind and uncover my secret. Realising that her gaze remained fixed towards me however, I returned mine back in her direction... There was something dark and captivating in her gaze; as if a force lay there which would propel me towards deeper and undiscovered parts of myself. As I looked towards her that second time, I had already considered and ruled out anything harmful or malevolent in her projected presence; that it was not that type of exchange was, I felt, undeniable at that instant. Her eyes then reached my own, moving from a vague perspective on my form to a conscious exchange of energy... There was something undeniably open in her gesture: It was a shameless, unapologetic searching: devoid of stereo-typical girlishness and any signs of shyness. It was also immensely moving and beautiful... Suddenly, she averted her gaze and continued walking along the path. It was like a great force waning; a vast shift in the space of my consciousness. Slowly, they disappeared out of sight. This occurrence, which had taken place in a mere half-minute at the most, had left a great impression on me; elated, melancholy, and yet somewhat confused, my consciousness swayed heavily into the afternoon.

The following day the whole ordeal seemed totally ridiculous; another one of my obsessive fancies to be tamed and stamped out. The event swept over me like a cloud as I awoke; growing like a storm as the day progressed. Again and again it would come to me, -the girl; her hair swaying subtly in the wind, -her eyes voicing me her silent smile. It was always the same... Again and again I had known it; letting my mind run wild at the slightest turn of events and again and again it had led into new and inestimable heights of despair and suffering and desolation. And something like this was all it took to for the fantasies to begin, -a hint of light in the long darkness of my days, -a whisper that something might penetrate the drab and rigid routine of my life. It was a battle I felt that day, -ashamed as I am to admit it for something so small, it was a battle -between the side of me that dreamed and loved and hoped for great change and magic, and the side that told me stop and listen to logic: I didn't know her and she didn't know me, it was just a glance, she was beautiful and I was unattractive, and how could I intuitively know what it had meant to her? Furthermore, if her gaze had been affectionate as I believed, how could I just assume that our silent exchange had somehow been sexually related? I had always thought myself as so above our cultures ideas of sex and beauty, and yet here I was automatically assuming, just due to her physical beauty, that our exchange had somehow been of a sexual nature. After a few hours of chaos and confusion, I resigned to avoid the park and spend the rest of the week looking for work.

The days passed drearily in a flood of reluctant social intercourse. I made my way into University and used the Internet to search for jobs. I used the Centrelink database, searched the papers, and the days passed slowly as I called prospective employers, looked for yet more jobs, and dropped off resume's. Searching for work was a savagery I had long since known, -the amount of times you received a 'no' in response to work inquires was both sad and remarkable, -especially when you were asking to slave yourself for minimum wage. Nonetheless, I found the search curiously soothing, -it somehow lending my days a sense of purpose. And the places I was applying, -bookshops, music stores and vegetarian cafe's were all actually places I wouldn't have minded working. The girl from the park entered my head a few times over these few days, -the flaming, dark-haired beauty, but was quickly pushed away by my rigid rationale. The severity of let downs when I had let my mind run wild in the past had taught me well. Nothing felt so dark; it was like falling from heaven, without an intermediary stop, into a volcanically heated pot of boiling oil. She was a fantasy I simply couldn't afford to entertain.

When Saturday came, I was invited to attend a dinner party. It was by one of the few people whom I could still really call a 'friend'. Mike was his name; he was a guy I met a few years ago at a student share-house in Hawthorn. We had lived together and were quite close back then, and some of the feeling had carried over, which was what...over and above my reluctance to see people whom I hardly knew and who most likely would be drones bereft of wisdom, intellect, or soul... motivated me to go along. The event, which would take place in his parent's house, was scheduled to start in the early afternoon and go into the evening. It was a dinner party, -a roast and wine deal which was a damn lot better than your 'regular' party, where you had to deal with all kinds of drunken idiocy, -usually from both the male and female halves of the species... But to cut my cynical spiel short, I reluctantly made my way over at about two o'clock. On arrival, I was greeted by several people, -both male and female. They were talking and sipping tea or drinking wine, -depending of course on their respective degrees of alcoholism. Shortly after arriving, Mike ushered me into the kitchen. He moved swiftly around, opening bottles, pouring glasses, and re-arranging the refrigerator, as his girlfriend, seemingly with the job of waitress, moved in and out of the room with the pre-prepared drinks or food.

"So, what would you like my good man?"

He turned around from the open refrigerator to meet my eyes. I sat at kitchen table, feeling hunched and nervous, trying to appear, calm, collected, cool. I replied:

"I'll have a wine thanks."

"Starting early hey? I thought you always considered drinking a social evil."

He turned to me again from the refrigerator; his dark features concentrated into a grin.

"Yeah," I said, "but that doesn't mean I consider 'evil' to be inherently 'evil' now does it? So why not propagate and participate in its deathly grasp?"

In truth I was just trying to find a way to escape my anxiety and nervousness. I hadn't been in the immediate social vicinity of so many people for some time, and I was finding it incredibly difficult to deal with.
"It's good stuff though," he replied, "from my parent's cellar. So never mind your inconsistency. You know what we say about consistency..."

He turned to me again and smiled, this time stopping his previously incessant movement. His full attention was focused on my being, enthusiastically awaiting my reply:
"Yeah, humans are fundamentally inconsistent creatures; Rationality is not the prime force of their minds and behaviour," I replied with a smile, "this of course can be easily observed in the fact that tomorrow I'll probably try and say that humans are fundamentally consistent..."

He laughed; I joined him. It was a good feeling; -I was actually starting to lighten up. He passed me a wine and poured himself another.

"Cheers," he said.

We clinked glasses and drank, and just as we were finishing, Mike's girlfriend, Jan walked into the room; her red hair and bright features blazing. She looked to us curiously:

"What have you guys been talking about?"

"Why, we've just been talking crap... which we invariably do," said Mike. He held up his finger theatrically, "Yet, Isn't that what an Arts degree teaches you to do, but with the added bonus of doing it really well and in an elaborate manner?"
Jan Laughed.

"Yeah man," I replied, "But don't forget that the only essential difference between us and everyone else is that we are aware that we're doing it..." I looked around at them with a shrug "...talking crap, that is."

Jan laughed again, this time accompanied by Mike. I picked up my wine and we entered the living room.

I continued to sip wine consistently, -relaxing into the party quite well, -surprising both the guests and myself at the level of comfortability that I was relating to everyone... but it didn't last. After a few hours I began to feel extremely withdrawn and dark, -suffering from that familiar sense of alienation that I knew so well. When less than ten minutes before I had been the coronary artery in the pulse of the party, cracking perfectly timed jokes and witticisms, it had suddenly became an overwhelming task just to remain in the room. Eventually, after enduring a good half hour of concerned questions and giving feigned, empty replies, I ushered Mike into the kitchen and told him that I had began to feel sick, -that I must be contracting the flu and that I needed to go home and rest. After offering me a bed he reluctantly saw me off. I made my way swiftly to the train station and caught the first train home. As I travelled, the haze of the loneliness and alcohol curiously transformed itself into a state of angst-driven inspiration. When I arrived home, I took my notebook and grey-lead collection and quickly made my way to the park. It was well towards the evening by this time, -the cars were slow and measured and then sun was well on its way out of the sky. I set about sketching and writing with a fair level of success, -completing a few of my 'park-goblin' sketches before moving onto a poem about the Melbourne Winter. Then, after an hour or two, when it had long fallen dark, the girl from the park, who had become vague and sketchy memory, returned with a new clarity and life to my minds eye. Colourful to the degree of verging on the supernatural, the vision danced wistfully behind my eyes, keeping me warm, comforted; consoling my residual loneliness. Not holding onto the vision; controlling it, but letting it dance with me, I watched abstractedly over the park until it became deserted. Slowly and sadly, like all things, the vision left me. It was around that time that I returned my attention to my surroundings -it was cold with a slight, but biting wind, and night had long ago fallen. The state of being I was currently entering was one I new well; it was the come-down after the angst-driven burst of enthusiasm, the petering out into emptiness after the last of your energy had been wilfully summoned and transformed into a concentrated burst to light the day. It was not a welcome feeling; a drained and forlorn state, yet I felt that the cost was well worth the benefits... Just as I was beginning to find the will to move, I felt a curious change in the air; a strong shift in the relevance of the surrounding atmosphere. I looked around and saw nothing. Then, after a few seconds, when I was just about to get up and leave again, I saw the girl. It was a strange and wonderful occurrence. There we both were, in almost exactly the same spots as our last exchange: me sitting against the old tree, she about thirty metres away on the path. Only this time she was alone and wasn't walking. She stood there still, gazing at me intensely, dressed in the same, long grey-coat; her dark-red hair loose and swaying subtly with the wind. In the dark, in the mild winter night, with the park-lights playing wistfully with her form and shadow, she took on an eerie, almost ghost-like presence. I was captivated, -unable to move. It was around that time that her focus came to rest undeniably on myself. As her eyes reached mine all my fears and reservations fell away and I felt something in myself open, -like a vast floodgate, allowing me to veil nothing, -letting all flow through me. The warmth of a strong attraction seethed between us; breaking the feeble barriers of the space which divided our two forms. Holding me in its grip I sat fixed, -unable to move, -spinning with its intensity. Slowly, eventually, -continuing to hold my gaze, she began to move towards me. As she moved forward I continued to be held locked in that place, until, when she was a mere few metres away, I stood. I was immediately greeted by the feeling in all its beauty as I arose; a great and undeniable sense of peace and comfortability and intensity, -as as if the destination of a long and sorrowful journey had at last been reached. Then looking, I realised her; she was right before me... I could sense her breath; -feel the subtle vibration and warmth of her body. She no longer appeared ghostly, but like an Angel... Before I could make any gesture or sound she put a finger to her lips.

'Shhhh', I almost heard her whisper.

Continuing to hold her gaze I smiled, -she smiled back. I remained quiet as she held her hand out and touched me; stoking my chest softly. I moved forward to meet her motions; my body reaching out to touch hers, -surrendering as I had never done before. An overwhelming warmth and electricity pervaded our every move. Then we kissed, -long and deep and sweetly; our bodies intermingling together, -our intimacy growing with each and every moment. Slowly, eventually, we pulled away from each other and she took my hand, -leading me down the path. The night seemed to hum, and the park had taken on an almost magical quality; the trees and plants and sky glowing with a new life. As we continued down the path, she turned to me a few times, -holding her finger to her lips. Slowly she stopped; gesturing for me to lead the way into the small thicket that lay before us. There, we kissed again; softly at first, before passion overcame us and we fell to the ground. Then there, under the black and starless sky, in the depths of the Melbourne winter, we made love...

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