Louis

Louis is an intriguing, complex and sensitive soul. In some ways he’s an enigma, a Ulysses of our time.

I pride myself on having a pretty good read of people but sometimes I can’t work him out. He’s unique, he’s his own person, you might think he’ll turn left, only to turn right. He belongs to a species we must protect and cherish in this age of group-think, trends and conformism.

Louis is Irish and has lived in Australia for the past 10 years. He’s part of that expat community which possibly no one can ever fully appreciate or belong to unless they too have made their life overseas without the support of family or an established group of friends. At the risk of offending Don Watson, he has built significant social capacity with a loyal, eclectic band of friends who are intelligent, independent thinkers and beautiful people in their own right. When they’re with him they envelope him like a protective field. They know they have a special friend and they gravitate to him, captivated by his authenticity, his kindness, his aura.

Kate, one of his first housemates and good friends in Sydney, is British and delightful. She explains when she first met Louis there was something warm and personable about him. She knew instantly he was a good person. She just knew. Call it the vibe, call it instinct, call it what you want. It speaks volumes that the two remain such good friends after a decade. I too am a housemate of Louis and can vouch for all these qualities. He’s a brilliant listener and can break down issues in the most succinct and articulate of ways that sometimes leaves me in awe and struggling for words. Louis tells me he had cancelled the lease half an hour prior to my enquiring about the room, though after some consultation and negotiation with the landlord here we are…

Sometimes the universe gives you a sign (I believe) and I think this was one of those moments.

During one of our rambling conversations, we share what turns us off on dating sites. He tells me would probably swipe left if he came across a girl wearing a football guernsey. Point noted from someone, whose most prized possession is a 26 year old Melbourne Football Club jumper, about to don their children’s size 14 Dubs top to go for a run. While he can recoil from the collective national stereotype, as I do, he feels a strong connection to his roots. So much so, a recent discussion during Tuesday night trivia centred on what is the correct percentage of a chip’s crisp to potato ratio.

Life hasn’t always been kind to Louis. He’s had a number of challenges thrown his way. I remember when I was little and dad once described that life can be like riding the surf. Some days you’ll catch a ripper, a wave you can soar on, one that takes you far and high gently delivering you to the sandy shore. On other occasions you’ll get a dumper, one that’ll pick you up, toss you around and slam you to the ocean floor. After a dumper you have no choice but to collect yourself, keep going and brace yourself for the next one.

Louis has been picking himself up a number of times and 2018 was a challenging year in particular. It was a case of life playing Jekyll & Hyde, wreaking havoc with emotions. Picture: He’s 40 and euphoric after surprise visits from his mum and brother who had flown from Ireland for the occasion. Over the next few months, trajectories shift and he’s left with a pervasive sense of confusion and, I sense, loneliness about his place in the world.

His father died when he when he was 27. My dad is my world and I can’t empathise with, let alone imagine what it’s like to lose part of yourself. But life goes on, and you know what Louis, I reckon your dad is with you. Whether it’s walking to work, reading Liu Cixin, having a pint with friends, chuckling to oneself or shedding a tear. Your dad is there with you, his spirit lingers, as I believe all those of the dearly departed with strong connections do.

Louis has a wonderful laugh. When he laughs the world laughs with him. It’s like his eyes and mouth are in synch. As his mouth widens, his pupils expand and he gets animated and gesticulates. He’s an introvert by nature, I’d think he’d agree with this assessment, so when he gets energy from people and his surrounds the room comes alive. When this happens it feels like a flash mob moment, like those ‘spontaneous’ dance scenes when others are drawn in, and collective hearts gladden in formation.

His talents are many. People struggle to comprehend that anyone can simultaneously be a software engineer, a yoga instructor and into meditation. Don’t believe me? You should see his WhatsApp profile, now that is one hell of a stretch! This didn’t happen overnight of course, he pursued his software career in his 20s, was married then divorced by 30. After a period of ‘going crazy’ in his early 30’s he turned to meditation and self-reflection. Now he’s managed to combine his training with his passion in developing an app for meditation, delivering an online course and writing a tech blog. It’s like he’s come full circle, having looked many aspects of life in the eye, the Phileas Fogg of emotions, and now sits balanced somewhere in the middle.

Louis’ sentiments and depth of thinking is best captured, I think, in his poetry. It’s poignant, exquisite in fact. He has written a poem about when time stops for a moment. My arm hairs stood on end reading it and a shiver swept up and down my spine. The writing delves into your soul and strips you bare, sees you for what you are, and allows you to acknowledge your emotions on the premise that what you feel is OK. joy, exaltation, anger, despair. Fine, whatever it is, it is and let it be. I know of few writers that make me feel that way.

The oceans are changing Louis and it’s not just because of climate change. I sense a shifting of currents and an emerging swell on the horizon. I know it’s not a matter of if but when life will change gears for you. I do believe good things happen to good people. So be ready for that surging wave. It is coming.