I had an American friend in England who said he couldn’t see himself ever living in Australia, as it didn’t seem like a good environment to be depressed in – too much good weather and laid back good times.
But as I think about it, perhaps that might make Australia a great place to be depressed – maybe the brightness of a stubbornly beautiful day could make the contours of the bleakness all the more stark. Here’s how some others have put it:
“Hey… there’s not a cloud in the sky, it’s as blue as your blue goodbye, and I thought that it would rain on a day like today.” (Wendy Matthews, The Day You Went Away)
“Gold’s in the sky, and in my blue eyes. You know it feels unfair: there’s magic everywhere.” (Black, Wonderful Life)
“Once I knew; now I’m walking in the dark. Like bells our dogs are barking all across Centennial Park, and the Sunday morning light just sends me blind. And I’m only feeling useless cause there’s nothing I can blame: every person, thing and circumstance that moves this perfect day, you’ve left behind.” (Cold Chisel, Letter to Alan)
In fact, I find that there is an overwhelming amount of depression in Australia – it’s the chief medical problem, and the chief spiritual problem. We are harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd – in a luscious green field.