Easter has become commercialised to the extent that many people think first of chocolate eggs.
Easter has become commercialised to the extent that many people think first of chocolate eggs.
Opinion
By Craig Cooper
Easter, a time for contemplation.
For 16 years, my primary Easter contemplation has been dominated by a mountain biking accident in the Whakarewarewa Forest.
There is a sub-contemplation or two - for example, my gross distaste at the chocolate and hot cross bun commercialisation of a religiousholiday that most of us enjoy without a thought as to its origins.
The Easter 2007 mountain bike accident reflection is kinder to my blood pressure. And waistline.
Somehow - there were witnesses and they don’t even know how I did it - I went over the handlebars and landed simultaneously on my head and shoulder on the track.
It’s a humerus story - I snapped my upper arm bone. Considerately, it broke but settled neatly back into place. The helmet broke, and in doing so, saved me from considerably worse brain damage than the concussion I ended up with.
Craig Cooper (left) pictured with a freshly broken arm in 2007. Photo / Ben Fraser
Not exactly an Easter resurrection of the scale Jesus is said to have experienced, but memorable enough for me to reflect on it annually.
We got to AE, for some unknown reason, I gave a fake name, revealing the extent of my concussion.
A no-nonsense nurse clocked my state of mind pretty quickly and sorted me out, so she could deal with worse-off patients.
I was given morphine, and had to stay on the premises for several hours to ensure I didn’t react adversely.
Being high on morphine was sobering - a family came in with a young boy badly injured in a motocross accident. I sat there, and decided it was churlish to be annoyed with broken arm, and the fact everyone I knew had gone home and left me at the hospital without so much as a six-month-old Women’s Weekly.
There were people far worse off than I.
This year, my Easter reflection is a little different. I’ve decided it’s churlish to be annoyed that flood damage caused to our home - revealed during a sale process - cost us thousands of dollars.
My wife and I drove through Esk Valley, the week the Napier-Taupo highway re-opened. We were travelling to Northland, to see family and do a little house hunting.
We are leaving Hawke’s Bay to be closer to whanau, after living here for five mostly wonderful years.
The journey through Esk was sombre. There is evidence everywhere of the impact of the flooding on people.
And of the immense power of the water that flowed through the valley. It is extraordinary, to see what nature did that night.
My flood damage is inconvenient. Esk Valley experienced tragedy.
Throughout history, in times of tragedy and famine, people have sought solace in the church, or through their faith.
I am faithless, but I understand why a person could find solace in a peaceful, non-confrontational space.
I would say non-judgemental, but for me, that’s where organised religion loses a little of its attraction.
That’s quite a few nons.
At the risk of being overtly negative, while I am non-religious, I don’t believe that when we die, that’s it.
The big question of course, is that if death isn’t it, what is?
Some people spend a lifetime seeking answers to that question. Me, I’m happy to reflect on it every now and then.
In Browning St, in Napier, is a handwritten sign outside the Waiapu Cathedral that invites people to come in, light a candle, think of loved ones and take some time out.
