I can’t think of a more efficient machine for transporting a person, or a load, or – if you’ve ever visited some of the Asian countries – a family, a load of ducks, and a load as well. The bicycle can be mass produced from a variety of materials, and apart from the high-tech models, can be maintained by a relatively untrained and unskilled individual. Me, for example. Even I’ve managed to maintain my trusty steed before today.

It is this ubiquity and accessibility that makes the bicycle a machine that is available for all ages and sexes. I can recall my Mother talking about how important her bicycle was in terms of liberating her from being stuck at home – and from being a beast of burden lugging groceries home. How many machines can be so far reaching in their impact? Somehow I think that in 100 years time the bicycle will still be around. I expect it’ll be technically superior, but probably essentially unchanged – the epitome of an elegant design.

Manifesto
17. Every day look through a new lens.
22. Every day refine, clarify and simplify.
41. Every day use your mind. It is the greatest technology ever created.

From there it to the eye-candy Myst series and then nothing – I haven’t played a computer game for years and years, diverted by writing web pages, drawing, photography, and more writing. I’m very sure the graphics that wowed me in Myst must look absolutely dreary now compared to all the new 3D software apps. Progress starts somewhere…

This morning walking to work I was entertained to see some active person had raided the stationery cupboard and bit mapped the office windows using Post-its. I love the contrast between the old steampunk style building and the bit maps – I hope the idea catches on across the city.

Manifesto
32. Every day have a laugh.
33. Every day try something new.
42. Every day celebrate. Who you are. What you have achieved. Things that matter to you.

Except for Nunga. Now there’s a sport that totally engages me. You’ve probably never heard of it much less played it and even less seen it being played. Don’t feel bad, it’s not available on the sports channel. Hopefully never will be. Nunga is a game we made up a few years back. At a family reunion. We were bored to the point of paralysis and there was nothing to see or do, and nowhere to run to. Nunga to the rescue.

Nunga is a solo sport you play with other people. You need a team of two or more people. Probably five is optimal, more than that they should split off into a separate team so you’ve got somewhere to defect to. Defecting to other teams is an important, if not essential, component. You’ll need a branch/pole/broken broomstick/peg, and at least one ring of some kind. Initially we used an axle off a pushchair and a couple of the broken/rusted out wheels – just the decaying rubber and rusty rims left. Sink the branch/axle in the ground deep enough so about 30 cm/ 1 foot remains above ground.

The object of the game is to throw the ring over the branch. Just like throwing quoits. Horseshoes. Here is where the sport differs. It’s over to the thrower to decide where they’ll stand to throw. Most people start right up close, and then move further back as their confidence and competence grows. They make it just difficult enough. Nunga is a sport that most anyone of any age can compete in with an equal opportunity to win at – physicality is not a requirement – in fact being a stunning athlete in the traditional form is a disadvantage.

Merely getting the ring over the peg doesn’t really win the points. There are no points. The other people on the team are there to boost you onwards to ever bolder moves. How you score is by ever moving out of your comfort zone and still hooping the ring over the peg. The best players are those who can call like a rooster, scurry up clucking like a chicken, run past the peg, and throw the ring without looking, have in bounce off a car, knock (but not spill) Aunty Joy’s gin and tonic, spin on its axis and then descend gracefully around the peg; to the wild screams and applause of the other participants – each of whom are determined to outdo the theatrical splendor, grace, and riskiness standard so recently set. The frailer or younger participants have the advantage that any flamboyance exhibited will be more valued than mere physical expertise. Singing, dancing, chanting, flames, hop, skip, and jump. Spin, twist, and yahoo to your heart’s content. Giggle like a loony-thing. The most important thing is to engage and enjoy as raucously as possible.

Don’t watch the game. BE the game.

PS – When the winning match was scored, my colleagues politely applauded and quietly returned to their desks. Not a lot of Nunga there.

Some days we wish time away so that the day will end quickly. We want to forget these days and all that happens during them. This is often easier said than done. More often than not we find ourselves replaying the events of such days as though they are a movie to be watched many times over. These days are usually the product of things that are beyond our control yet our responses are not.

Today was one of those days for me.

I woke in the wee hours of the morning with a headache and a sore throat. Actually it felt like I had a golf ball stuck in my throat. Despite taking painkillers I was feeling worse with each passing hour.

“Here we go again,” I thought. “Will I never learn?”

Every year I manage to gradually run myself into the ground so that when this time of year arrives I have no resistance left to deal to anything.

Despite sleeping most of the day I didn’t feel any better. I hate to admit it but I was feeling sorry for myself as I lay there.

It wasn’t until the phone rang late in the afternoon that I realised my problems were insignificant in the bigger scheme of things.

I heard the words spoken, “Marica, I’ve got cancer” and a familiar panic surged through my being.

“No, this can’t be happening,” I was silently screaming. Not again. First my son and now my sister.

On the other end of the phone my sister Diana was crying so much I couldn’t make out what she was saying apart from those dreaded words, “I have cancer”. I repeated them over and over silently. I remembered doing the same thing when I was told my son had leukaemia.

Why do days like today have to happen? There’s no logical reason, they just do. Every day someone hears bad news. Every day people fight to stay alive whilst elsewhere people kill in the name of some war or other.

Today I felt rusty, cracked and in desperate need of repair.  I really don’t know which way to turn either – nothing is more important than being there for the people you love and yet there are all those other competing demands pulling at us and requiring our attention.  Christmas is in a few days and I still have heaps to do to get ready. I’m meant to be at work sorting things out before everyone goes on holiday. I have a throat infection. I am completely exhausted. Yet no matter how broken I feel, like that wall, I am still here. I am still standing. I will heal as long as I give myself the respect I deserve. I’m no good to anyone if I don’t look after myself. Why is this so hard to do?

I need to summon all my energy to get well so I can be there for my sister. She is what matters now. Oh how I wished I could have just got on a plane and gone to be with her.

Thank goodness days like today don’t happen too often. My heart is heavy yet it is also bursting with love for the gifts that are still there even when life sucks. In many respects it was good that I was home sick in bed today so I could talk to my sister when she needed me. I was able to be fully present without other people listening in on our conversation. I was able to phone her back and talk more. I was able to be there and do whatever she needed from me. Some gifts are priceless.

Manifesto
39. Every day trust that there is a bigger picture. You are a part of it even if you may not know what it is.
48. Every day there are things you can’t change. You can change the way you think about them and deal with them.
50. Every day has an ending.