THE ULTIMATE ACT OF RESONANCE

For many years I slaved away behind an oar on the Lane Cove River. In fact, as a schoolboy I used to row across that beautiful river to school every morning. It was my Mississippi.

I was a devoted rower at school, probably because I was hopeless at dealing with anything that bounced or needed to be hit.

In a boat, all your thoughts could wander inward, becoming ballast at the centre of the boat. And you could do it over and over and over... and over again. The ultimate act of resonance.

Not only that, you had seven other blokes in the boat doing exactly the same thing, with one joker keeping time, more a conductor than a coxswain.

A melancholy activity that somehow built momentum in one's heart, and among those in front of you and behind. A momentum that would occasionally lift the boat up and out of the water, as though it were flying. A heavenly weightlessness.

I look back on those days with the greatest affection.