The Power of Connection
(caution — alludes to suicide)
Travelling back to the UK after living here 20 years ago has made me reflect on how so much has changed, but at the same time it feels like I haven’t left.
I have spent considerable time letting go of my ‘failure’ of leaving my power adaptor at the last hotel, and really tried to examine why such annoying nuisances get to me, when the world throws up such suprises and opportunities at the same time. I need to change my bandwidth and dial into what excites me and amazes me, rather than what frustrates me if I let it.
Yesterday while driving through the English countryside, I came around a bend and happened upon a “toll”, which consisted of two men in a small booth on a random bridge requesting 5p from motorists. As an Australian devoid of 5ps or any loose change, I began to wonder how I’d get through this one. I had no idea what the toll was for, the roads looked about 500 years old to me, and the bridge was barely 2 lanes wide. As I wound down the window, the toll person beamed at me and said, “You’re all fine, the man ahead gave me 10p and said pay for the lady behind me”.
I thanked him as if he had rescued me from some natural disaster, wound up the window and headed off. It set me on a thought journey about how fate plays out, how things tend to work out and how connected we can be to strangers and via circumstance and not even know it.
Today I have a tennis lesson booked with arguably the best Real Tennis player that ever was, Rob Fahey. Yes, that’s real tennis, I play it nowhere near as good as Rob, but we both hail from the Antipodes and he had a power adaptor that I was grateful to lend.
At home, I consider the Royal Melbourne Tennis Club to be my happy place. I connect with many people there, and so does my 16 year old son, who is destined to be an incredible player one day too. I love the game because it is handicapped, meaning that players of all stages and ages can compete against one another. It’s an international sport, just like lawn tennis, and as old as King Henry VIII, who apparantly created the courts and the rules, the history that would become the beginnings of modern tennis. There are courts dotted all over the English countryside, inside palaces, some more than 500 years old. My visit to Hampton Court Palace at the end of my trip will be an absolute highlight.
Being a member of the Royal Melbourne Tennis Club means I am connected to players from all over the world. We all have a real tennis “ranking”. I can book a lesson or a match in the UK, France or the US. Today is all about a legend of the game commenting on my serve or being nice about my hack-backhand, or generally chatting about life in Oz. It’s kind of like me wandering into a court in the US and receiving some advice from Federer while I happily slam the ball into the net, and him staying on court to put up with it.
I am connected to history by being such an enthusiast of Real Tennis. The rules haven’t changed in hundreds of years. I also feel connected to the UK, after spending a lot of time here. I feel the same about Ireland, as I have already written about. I’ll fit right in in Dublin next week with my red hair and fair skin. And now because of my connections, I have a fully charged laptop and phone, an incredibly fortunate result.
Yesterday I had lunch with an amazing doctor and mental health advocate I have known for about 5 years but had never met. Our connection was around her tragedy of losing her husband to suicide, something she wrote about publicly. We both came together in advocacy roles just over 5 years ago, me in the role of doctor’s doctor, and her as a widow. It was the most incredible experience to talk face to face, not a Zoom screen in sight, and find out that we connect over so many reasons, not just her tragedy. We also bonded over our disappointment that doctor’s mental health awareness is still all about lip service with little in the way of real change to show for people like us brave enough to speak out.
As I drove back to where I’m staying I reflected upon how lovely it was to have that meaningful conversation, the first of many I’d imagine as we both travel around the world in the future, paths crossing when fate determines. She was all but relocated to New Zealand when she lost her husband, and has many friends both there and in Australia.
While I write this in a cafe, my hire car is charging in a nearby car park. Now that’s a segue and a half, and a trite droll, but I am amazed that such things are possible this trip, unlike 20 years ago. How amazing that something can be so simple and have a meaningful impact on our connection with the environment. How cool is it than I can drive that car over a 500 year old bridge and be asked for 5pence. I’m going to think about that as I unplug and drive to the Oratory for my lesson with Rob Fahey, and of course, to return his power adaptor.
