The wind changed today. And so, we move toward winter.
Bob knew about this stuff. Bob was a cleaner, and a boat driver, student of humanity and observer of patterns. He told me that the change in this wind was the signal that the mullet would run, that the season had changed. Crowds would gather to savour the schooling fish on the island in Deerubbin, and, decades later; lookouts would stand atop the headlands with polaroids and whistles to alert the waiting fishers that a school was imminent.
The starkness of the change serves to remind us that all change occurs against a backdrop of some of the cycles of being which perpetuate themselves around us. There will be, always, within these: the need for patience.
And that is one of the toughest challenges.
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