Having finished my $2 book of O Henry short stories I needed something new to give me a glimmer of hope. I began searching for something spiritual to give me strength, maybe say an affirmation and all I could think of was the 23rd Psalm which I had learned as a boy at Sunday School. I wrote it out as best as I could remember and recited my affirmation out loud every day. I'd choke up at the bits that went "Thou restoreth my soul" and "Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for thou art with me." The old-fashioned English as I had learned it seemed to give it a connection with my happy childhoodhood.
Then I came across a television series based on a legend surrounding a young Buddhist monk named Tripitaka who, in the seventh century, is said to have travelled from China to India to fetch the Buddhist scriptures. In the legend he is accompanied by a monkey spirit, a fish spirit and a pig spirit. The name of the show, made in China with Japanese actors and dubbed rather badly in English, was Monkey. It became a cult series in Australia and the UK but was never released in the United States.
Every afternoon at five without fail I'd watch an episode of Monkey. How can I forget the words that ended the intro to each episode: "With our thoughts we make the world." At the end of each programme the voice of an inscrutable Chinese gentleman would offer, in a few words, the moral of the story based on Buddhist or Taoist teachings. Then with this fragment of wisdom in my thoughts I'd go into the garden, sit on the child's swing in the centre of the orchard, and contemplate the wisdom of the day with particular reference to my own predicament until the sun had set.
It was enough to sustain my soul, to give me a grain of hope, to feed my empty being.
For the first time I realised I was struggling with some serious undiagnosed illnesses. I saw the local GP who diagnosed 'anxiety' and left it at that. A few years later I would learn I was suffering from anaemia, fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, glandular fever and some acute digestive problems. Two of these are now officially recognised here as 'disabilities.' The doctor wanted me to attend weekly counselling sessions - with himself, of course - implying it was all in my head. At which point I walked out of his surgery and never returned.
One terrible day Blackie the black (did you guess?) resident cat began having a sneezing fit and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Right through the night I sat with him on my bed, not getting any sleep, holding his now feeble body as he continued sneezing non-stop.
Finally the morning came. I phoned the vet, arranged to go straight in and waited while he was put to sleep. How I paid for this I don't know but I would have gone without a week's food for my little faithful friend. I brought him home in a bag and, in tears, buried him in the rose garden.
The time was drawing near for Barry and his family to return from overseas when I would have to find somewhere else to live.
"With our thoughts we make the world."
(MONKEY)
