Sustainable Communities

I'm a bit late on this week's entry as the writing task had consumed most of the time I spend on work, outside of work. I have just done a quick map tonight, which has not only included events from my week at work, but also my weekend, which was full of reconnecting with friends again.

There is part of my map where branches extend out from a bubble labeled "emotional." From my week and weekend of conversing and seeing friends I have seen and felt a range of emotions from greatly missing people and then experiencing the happiness of seeing them again, to helping find relief and peace, to hearing of uncertainty, to feeling another person's disappointment. All serving as a reminder that life is about lessons and learning.

I spent yesterday at the beach, experiencing the open sea. It reminds me of how big our world is, that there is a lot to explore and learn out there, and that we should never forget that, sitting at our desk indoors in the office. Cities appeal to me in very much the same way. I love seeing the tall buildings and thinking of all the great ideas being generated inside them. We are never to forget that we have a lot to learn from each and every person.

But the focus of my map was really around the word sustainable. I finished reading Anita Roddick's autobiography this week and was really struck by the idea of hers called 'Trade Not Aid', a big project she pushed through the Body Shop. The concept behind it was about initiating trade between the developing countries and the Body Shop.

Roddick detailed her many adventures in her book. She described how she would take some Body Shop soaps to show communities in developing countries what she was doing. She'd then ask them if they had anything to offer. During her travels she would discover secrets of nature which provided highly sought after remedies for the body. She would place an order with the community, and they would set to work on creating things in exchange for finance. The finance gave them opportunities to increase their standard of living and build sustainability in their communities. Some communities really flourished, starting out as backyard family businesses to growing to two factories with many employees.

I find Roddick's work very inspirational. When I was mapping, I was also discovering that I could draw on some similarities between live projects at my own work. Right now, we are helping a retail bank provide better experiences for their small business banking customers. We are helping them do more than just cut banking fees, they have a bigger picture in mind and in their vision is woven building sustainability not only within their organisation but also among and with small businesses.

Another project I had the privilege to be involved in, was work with a very visionary Aboriginal organisation. Their vision includes building sustainable communities, having learnt from past occupations of the Government to provide "hand outs" to Aboriginal people. This has done little for their communities, accelerating issues such as alcoholism and de-motivating Aboriginal people to go out and create things and lives for themselves. The group we work with are inspirational thought leaders, working on many levels to pursue sustainability from land and water management to our national identity.

So, as you can see in the past week, I have read, observed and been involved with building sustainability on an organisational level, a national level and world level. I love being made aware that there is a big world out there. I hope I never forget it.

Opposites

This task was set by Tony. We were to reflect on something we had done recently. Our process was to mind map our thoughts and produce a piece of writing.

This piece is the product of several mind maps on my summer holiday, road tripping with Geoff, through country and coastal Victoria.

Luggage stowed, snacks in the back, we pour into the bucket seats. The sun beats down on the bonnet, air-conditioning is on high, a long road stretches ahead. Ten days separated from Sydney. What is in store? What will we see? Will we survive? We’re total opposites and we’ve never been away for so long. We ask the questions but anticipate nothing.

We arrive at Marysville, greeted by a humble sign. One tiny street, washed under leafy trees that rustle in the wind. The air is cool. We can’t see mountains, but strangely we can feel them. Water gushes down the falls. Glistening over rocks and jumping between them.

The green signs shout at me. Too late, I missed the exit. Again. When will I learn? The streets are congested. Red lights flash on and off in anger. The air fills with smoke. I am grateful for the windows that encase me. As I drive along, the high rises close in on me. Will there ever be a break so I can see the blue sky? I drive past water which streams down the gutter. I feel angry about the pipe which has burst. Don’t they know we’re in a drought?

We reach the cornflower blue and white guesthouse. Perched high in the grassy hill, the black tar of the Great Ocean Road hugs the rugged coast. Far below, the rough seas silently pound the cliffs. The scene is straight from a postcard. We feel we’re not on the ground anymore. The mist from the ocean spray lays a blanket of haze over the land and sea. It gives us the sense that we’re dreaming.

My feet pound the grey concrete. I fly past shops, cafes and people. From the corner of my eye, colours and shapes blur into one. There’s no time or space to stop and look. I hear sounds. A lot and loud. It never stops. I see and hear things, but they mean nothing.

It’s New Year’s Eve in Port Fairy. A town as charming as its name. A quiet promenade is lined with fishing boats. The river’s water is calm, but on the other side, the ocean crashes onto the beach. We have our tartan picnic blanket and a soft cooler bag of food. The grass if thick and soft. People are scattered far and wide. The temperature cools as the sun dips below the horizon. Hours pass, we anticipate fireworks. We wait on the bridge and colours begin to explode far away in the sky. We quietly enter the new year.

It’s the place to be, but is it really where we want to be? The grass is sparse and dry, the ground is exposed, dust is kicked up and settles on our things. The sun’s rays stretch towards us for the last time this year. The heat is suffocating and so are the people. So close, we can hear their every word. The harbour water is constantly disturbed by the boats. They draw near the bridge. The wait is long and when midnight strikes, the sound is deafening. The fireworks are dazzling and I sigh relief as they fizzle out in the air above me. When it’s all over, a strange quietness falls on the night. Every year it’s the same. It’s not special anymore.

We walk out to the deck. Dusk is settling over the port town. People talk in hushed voices even though it’s not necessary. Out eyes straining and searching for the first sign of mutton birds coming home. Night falls, what remains of the sun is like glowing embers in the sky. Silhouettes of the birds begin to appear. They swoop around and down in silence to feed their young. More and more arrive home. Still not a sound. Everyone is quiet now. Are we meant to be here? The birds behave like we’re not anyway.

We walk down beneath the bridge. The concrete and steel heavy and creaking. We settle down to eat lunch. Seagulls being to approach. First one, out of curiosity. Daringly close, its eyes fix on our food. I swot it away, but it’s hardly scared. It comes back, prompting more to join. They swark and swarm around us, circling and eyeing us eating our food. All we want is peace.

The car rolls into Beechworth. Our last stop before home. Old buildings line the wide street with drains of orange cobblestones. A proud bakery stands on the corner. It smells of home-made cooking. We’ve stepped back in time into a sunburnt outback town. It’s Ned Kelly country.

Buildings of grey concrete and glass replace the old. History is lost, no story for today. Coffee shops squeeze themselves between buildings and spill out onto paths. Grinders chomp and machines squeal. The rest of it is fast food and take away. It’s Sydney city and I know I am home, but I wish I were far away.