Enjoying Retirement in Cape Naturalist near Dunsborough, WA

By Deryn

May 24, 2020

Sibelius monumnet Helsinki showing organ pipes that are tree trunks of the forest

Photo Pixabay, Sibelious Monument,

Music becomes a voice for change

I have long believed that the arts serve purposes far beyond decoration. A painting can tell a story. A poem can preserve a memory. A novel can give a forgotten person a voice. Drama and dance are transient vehicles for storytelling. And music? Music can bring people together.  have seen something of this for myself in my travels. I have stood before the monument to Jean Sibelius in Helsinki, Finland, and I have visited Estonia. Standing in those places, knowing something of their history, gives a different meaning to the music. You begin to understand that these were not simply composers writing beautiful melodies. In times of oppression and uncertainty, music can become a vessel carrying the identity of an entire people.

Music when a nation finds its voice

Consider Finland. For more than six hundred years, Finland was part of the Swedish realm. In 1809, it passed from Sweden to the Russian Empire and became an autonomous Grand Duchy. During the nineteenth century, a growing Finnish cultural movement sought to strengthen a distinct national identity. The Kalevala compiled from Finnish oral poetry, became an important expression of that identity. Artists, writers, and musicians began to give Finland a language of its own, not necessarily a political language, but a cultural one.

Sculpture of Sibelious Head, Helsinki

Photo Pixabay, Sibelious Monument

Then came Sibelius. In 1899, during a period of increasing Russian pressure and attempts at Russification, Sibelius composed the music that would become Finlandia It was originally part of a series of historical tableaux presented at the Press Celebrations in Helsinki. The final section, known as “Finland Awakes,” stirred something deep in the Finnish people. Finlandia became a symbol of Finnish nationalism. When I stood before the Sibelius monument, I wasn’t just viewing a memorial to a famous composer. It reminded me of what happens when art helps people remember their identity. Sibelius helped give Finland a sound, and sometimes people need a sound before finding a voice. Organ pipes represented the trees of the forest; forests go deep into the psyche of the Finnish people, a voice that resonated with them.Estonian Music Festival Stand

Estonia sang its way toward freedom

I experienced a similar feeling when I visited Estonia. Domination by powerful neighbors has marked Estonia’s history, and during the Soviet period, language and national identity were under pressure. Yet Estonia had an extraordinary cultural treasure: its singing tradition.

The Singing Revolution of the late 1980s demonstrated just how powerful that treasure could become. Hundreds of thousands of Estonians gathered at the Tallinn Song Festival Grounds and sang traditional and patriotic songs together. They sang Mu isamaa on minu arm, “Land of My Fathers, Land that I Love,” a song that had become deeply associated with Estonian identity. They also sang the patriotic songs of composer Alo Mattiisen.Music of Estonian Dancers

Estonian Folk Dancers, Video - Deryn van der Tang

This was nonviolence; they were not taking up arms, they were raising their voices. By 1989, the movement had grown into the remarkable Baltic Way, when people in Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania joined hands in a human chain stretching across the three Baltic countries. Music had helped people remember they belonged to something larger than the political system that governed them.

The music that defied ruins

Then there is Sarajevo. During the terrible siege of Sarajevo in the 1990s, cellist Vedran Smailović became known as the “Cellist of Sarajevo.” After twenty-two people were killed while waiting for bread, Smailović returned to the devastated area and played Albinoni’s Adagio in G minor in their memory. Picture a city under attack. Amidst the broken buildings and people living in fear, a man sits with his cello and plays. The music could not stop the bombs, nor could it bring the dead back. But it declared something profound:

Beauty had not been destroyed. Human dignity had not been destroyed, and the human spirit had not been destroyed. That is the power of the arts.

Why do the arts matter?

When we talk about social change, we often think about politicians, protesters, legislation, and movements. And, of course, these matter. But underneath every movement is something deeper: a story about who we are and what we believe is worth preserving. Artists help us tell that story. A composer can give a nation a melody. Poets can preserve a language. Painters can capture a landscape that becomes part of a people’s memory. A storyteller can take the ordinary life of one family and reveal something universal about courage, suffering, and hope.

Perhaps that is why oppressive regimes have so often tried to control language, literature, music, and art. They understand something we sometimes forget: culture holds memory. And memory gives people identity.

The Bible tells us, “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver” (Proverbs 25:11).

Sometimes someone speaks, paints, sings, or writes that word.

The arts may not change the world overnight. Yet, they have the power to shift how people view the world. And once people see differently, they may begin to think differently, hope differently, and eventually act differently.

As I think about Finland, Estonia, and many other places I have traveled, I remember that the arts form a vital part of human society. They are part of our inheritance; they carry the stories of those who came before us. They inspire courage in those struggling today and plant seeds of hope for future generations. Perhaps that is why music has such extraordinary power.

A single voice may be silenced, a single instrument broken, yet a song alive in people’s hearts proves much harder to destroy.

And sometimes, when a people begin to sing together, the world begins to listen.

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One of the things that many retired people look forward to is to travel, I was no exception, desiring to see the world and re connect with old friends. This trip to Australia was a fulfillment of  those dreams. I was fortunate to have timed my trips just weeks ahead of the COVID 19 epidemic when this would not have been possible. I am truly blessed to have had this opportunity which may never be a possibility for some of you as travel will not be the same again for a long time, so I wanted to share this with you so you can enjoy it with me..

The drive through from Perth to Dunsborough was uneventful as we drove through the Western Australian open bushland with low scrub trees, plants and open fields, quite different vegetation to Queensland’s tropical forests. After driving through Church Mile, an area donated for church and scouting camp sites, we arrived in Dunsborough and went straight to the Sculpture by the Bay Exhibition as it was closing at two o’clock. We wandered through the sculptures, some of which were very inspiring. A large clay snake made by school children with texturing from local natural objects, reminding us to be aware of the environment and bush safety, this was certainly brought back memories of our youth spent in Rhodesia with dodging puffadders and cobras! There were also some pretty poignant pieces, I liked the one of a man sitting quietly looking out to sea, very meditative and part of nature. I thoroughly enjoyed this exhibition, a red heart made out of broken pieces of reflective glass from crashed motor vehicles really spoke to my heart. When we had finished at the Sculptures, we went to my host’s apartment where we had lunch and enjoyed a cup of tea in the garden.

Reflective glass heart

There were lots of noisy birds in the garden, magpies, twenty eights (parrot like green birds) and others, attracted by the bird seed my hosts fed them! Later that day we walked around the corner to a student art exhibition at the Gallery on the Hill, to be further inspired by local artists. I watched one lady doing exquisite botanical paintings in water color. In the late afternoon we walked down to the beach which was not more than a hundred meters from the house. It was pretty as a picture mesmerizing us as the sun sparkled on the ripples and the gentle waves lapped at the shore in the late afternoon sunshine, while gulls sorted through debris on the beach. We walked the long way home past the Gallery on the Hill, finishing the day with dinner relaxing on the lawn telling yarns of the good old days. 

Pullman's Resort

The next day we drove down to Meelup beach (‘up’ in aboriginal language means ‘water’), then onto Point Marchant named after a WA historian who specialized in this area where the first French Explorer, Nicolas Baudin had arrived and mapped the coastline in 1801, this area is called Cape Naturaliste after his second ship. The sea here was a tapestry of extraordinary blue and turquoise strips and patches reflecting the blue sky above. From there we drove to Bunker Bay whose lovely long white beaches stretched into the far distance, and onto Pullman’s Resort where we stopped for coffee. This was a very upmarket place so we only had coffee, which we enjoyed looking out over the forests and the sea. The buildings blended into the scenery with roofs painted the color of the forest so they did not jar the eye. The foyer was decorated with beautiful pastel paintings of the ocean by a local artist, Ann Steer, they were a true representation of the mood of the place, the turquoise seas and tumbling waves of Bunker Bay. After exploring the resort with its luxury cabins situated in the forest around a small pond and walking down to the beach, we drove on to the lighthouse on Cape Naturaliste. From here you can get beautiful views

Point Marchant

across Geographe Bay, named after Nicolas Baudin’s flagship, and the Leeuwin National Park. This was quite expensive to visit and I am not good on heights, so I decided to give this one a miss. We drove onto Eagle Bay where there are very expensive homes, but no water, so everyone is dependent on their rainwater tanks. We returned to the apartment and later in the afternoon walked along the beach again to the parking lot where the Curry and Rice pop-up van was parked.  We ordered our Chicken Corma and poppadum's and sat at the picnic tables enjoying our meal watching the waves and children jumping into the water from the pier. It was really relaxing to just sit and enjoy my retirement connecting with old friends. 

1 Comment

  1. Betsy McPeak

    I especially love the Reflective glass heart! How honoring and beautiful!
    And the Curry & Rice pop-up van seemed fun after all the expensive options.
    Your photos are lovely!

    Reply

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