Original Thought

I had an original thought once. I remember it distinctly because most of the time my thoughts come and go without commentary. This one had one of those little crosses after it which made me look down at the bottom of my mind for the footnote. It said: source unknown.

I was driving on the LaTrobe flyover in my old XW Fairmont, headed to North Geelong and my mother’s housing commission house in Norlane. It was the close of a warm summery January day, and I was reflecting upon my lecturer’s fascination with the name Norlane. He was the chair of the department of English Literature, a very left leaner who loved words and thought that the name Norlane was the epitome of a working class suburb as told by the inhabitants. I thought how much I respected him, and yet I suspected him of being just a bit condescending toward the suburb I lived in. It also struck me that he didn’t laugh much, and I wondered how someone with so much learning could be so unhappy. It then struck me that the true challenge for a person is not to learn lots of knowledge, but to be content with the life they are living.

Sure, it sounds a lot like what a lot of other people have said… only maybe slightly less profound. Apparently Athena was born as a consequence of Zeus thinking really hard and giving birth through his forehead. I’m tipping that was a pretty profound thought. I make no such claim for my own paltry cerebrum. There was not a trace of placenta smacking the windscreen as I slowed for the lights and ignored the Ballarat turn-off. Nevertheless, that thought has served me very well in the decades since.

I say decades. I thought that thought at the start of 1990. That was an astonishing time in Geelong. Pyramid building society was a flourishing business there then. The waterfront was still a grubby rat-infested relic. I’m sure if I googled Geelong 1990 I would get one of those ‘do you mean…?’ messages with a list of other locations I would more likely want to think about. And possibly some comment about the high rates of alcoholism, domestic violence, Collingwood membership, Elvis tribute nights and purchases of Marilyn Monroe boxed video-sets per head of population which would only get worse as Pyramid crashed and the whole town slid into what can only be described as the Kennet Liberal Government era. And you could get Marilyn on Beta then. Somehow I think she was more attractive on Betamax...the doomed on the doomed. But then, clearly I have thought way too much about the whole scenario.

So let us come back to that original thought… the idea that a person might devote themselves to their own contentment seems at best utilitarian and at worst hedonistic. Actually, come to think of it there are far worse things than hedonism. But you get what I mean. I remember thinking once that hedonism was just altruism taken to its logical conclusion – but perhaps one can be too inclusive.

I remember reading in The Age once where a writer thought that altruism was a really good attitude for life, and that being altruistic is worthy of self-congratulation. This seemed to suggest to the author that being altruistic is self-serving and egotistical. The person then commented that they agreed with the philosopher who had already considered this situation and had concluded that the individual concerned had had ‘one thought too many’. For years since I have wondered who the hell that philosopher was. I did two years of philosophy and never came across such a sensible thinker. Obviously one of those failed, minor philosophers who wrote in the 70’s and didn’t smoke a pipe. Probably not even French.

But back to the point. I have spent years thinking about how to be content with my life. The problem is bad things keep happening. Every time I get close to contentment someone gets shot, or loses the unlosable election, or invades Iraq. Or suggests we should end our marriage. But somehow it goes against the grain to think that the opposite of contentment is self pity. We had a prime minister in Australia once who only served 8 days. His name was Ford, and somehow I wish his initials had been XW. Best Ford ever. But alas young Xavier William was misdiagnosed at birth and christened something else. I’ll google it later and fill in the gaps. It’s the sort of thing I do.

Ok, so it was Francis FORDE. Nevertheless as fine a Prime Minster as was ever designed in Detroit. Once upon a time a man could be bent out of a piece of metal and become the leader of our nation. Thank God we still have the momories.

Ex-prime minister Forde was apparently a decent man. Despite many things which went askew
in his life, including his widowerhood, and tragic death of a promising son (would it have still been tragic if the poor boy had lacked social graces, or an impressive bowling action?) he was a very happy and kindly man well into his 80’s, Personally I remember the 80s as being a time of greed and lemon yellow shirts. I certainly hope his were indeed better. The point is though, he achieved what my lecturers at Melbourne University apparently could not… he was a content man. His post-politics relationships were characterised by good humour and … dare one suggest such a thing?... the sense that he had achieved much and could be generous in his opinions of others. He died in ’83 at the age of ’92, the longest lived of all our Prime Ministers.

So what of me? I have achieved very little, and in fact have even lost most of that. But the idea that I might find some way to achieve contentment has infused my efforts since that day, and somehow, despite grief, loss, conservative dress sense and premature grey hair I have come tantalisingly close. And maybe, just maybe, I have something to share, regarding living a content life, with you.