I am having what could be called a crisis of meaninglessness. Those who have actually had the intestinal fortitude to read philosophy books might term it an ‘existential’ crisis. I prefer crisis of meaninglessness. Truth be told, I’ve been having it for a long time. Growing since my birth, it burst into full flower in early May 2006 when a dear friend died from the cure for her cancer at the premature age of 30. (I miss you Bec).
Hence my choice of rose. This rose is called Golden Vision. She comes from the Alister Clark stable, released in 1922. She is a hybrid gigantea, and like many of his roses, she does a brilliant job of adorning the tennis court fence at Old Parliament House.
Alister Clark had a clear vision for his rose breeding program. He wanted to breed roses that would thrive in the Australian climate, which is so much more extreme and unpredictable that England and Europe. In this, he was completely out of sync with his times, an odd environmental visionary. At this point in Australian history, we were still in love with the myth of conquering nature. Don’t adapt to where you are, make where you are adapt to you. His roses were an outstanding success, although generations after his death forgot them for a while. Fortunately most of them have been found and are well represented in a number of gardens around the country.
At the moment I am content with contemplating Golden Vision’s loveliness and using her name as a meditative inquiry. There is no doubt though that only the power of a truly robust and adaptable golden vision is going to sustain me in the near and distant future. I can only hope it emerges soon.