ENDURANCE, A VISIT TO THE AUSTRALIAN BUSH

ENDURANCE, A VISIT TO THE AUSTRALIAN BUSH.

If God had wanted humans to bush walk, he would have made our skin thicker, so the leeches could not suck our blood, the soles of our feet tougher , so that after hours of traipsing through the bush , our feet didn't feel like a battered piece of fish. He would also have given us the ability to exude a perspiration with a smell which would give any fly repellent a run for its money

As you have by now discovered, I am not a great lover of the bush. Put me in the city and I can shop till I drop, drink coffee until I'm cappuccinoed (is that an actual word?  well it is now. ) out and walk a hundred miles. Place me in that wide open space, namely the Australian bush, and I am a lost soul. Try to convert me? Never. I have had the best try. 

“ You will reinvent yourself in the bush” they try to tell me. When that doesn't work they get down to the hard sell, home hitting stuff. My health. Inhale that fresh air I am told, and my body will thank me. Nice try. I will take my chances in the pollution of the city, where if I want to go to the toilet I only have to walk ten feet, not squat in unknown territory, my bottom a feast for any beast who is game enough to take a bite. No thank you, and isn't it the way, the morning after you have drunk copious amounts of fluids, Murphys Law is up to his old tricks again.

Why would one of sound mind and body torture what is referred to as a shrine? Anybody who has ever been a victim to stinging nettles will hasten to agree, it is not the most exhilarating experience to suffer. Easy to avoid in my eyes, keep out of the bush. Stay on cement footpaths, and if you need to feel the open space and free your spirit for a while, visit the Botanic Gardens, a park, or even a friends overgrown garden.

Now I am well aware that by now you will be calling me a cynic. But I know my pain threshold , and bushwalking pushes this threshold way past its limit. Maybe a glimpse of koala in a tree will make me coo, or the viewing of a colourful rosella in flight will make me go aahh. This oohs and ahh will not make up for the ouches as I am bitten by bugs, and the screams as I trip and sprain my ankle on another branch.

I love gnarly trees intimidating me from above and the wild brumbies moving freely through my campsite. I love the smell of the bush and the rainbow colours of the flowers. I smile at the joeys in the mother kangaroos pouches and the tiny birds stealing breadcrumbs at my feet. I love the fresh morning air and the dew on the grass as I blindly trample to the toilet in the middle of the night. But, I hate the flies mulling around my food and the march flies taking large bites of flesh from my leg. I hate the midnight walks to the smelly pit toilet, undignifyingly carrying toilet paper in my hand. I hate the dirt under my nails and the frizz in my hair. I hate the scratches from sticks. A princess I may be but my relationship with the Australian bush will always be love/hate. I will continue to endure it, I will continue to grit my teeth. You can take the girl out of the city, but you cannot take the city out of the girl.

The Art of Indoctrination.

Terrorists will never win. They can kill, they can maim, but they will never destroy the human spirit or the solidarity of 

mankind.Terrorists are ignorant and single minded individuals who pray on the vulnerable in our society. They recruit by indoctrinating 

the weak. 

Indoctrination has always been around. Defined, indoctrination is to persistently teach an idea or ideology, especially one with a 

specific point of view. 

Indoctrination seduces people into believing their lives will be better by following a certain way. Causes good and bad indoctrinate. 

The suffragettes indoctrinated the women living the harsh realities of life in the early twentieth century. They recruited women in bad 

situations, both at work and at home, with promises that their cause could eventuate to a better life. The reform that occurred for 

women due to the Suffragettes persistent protesting and extreme tactics were necessary.It was an enlightenment to women who knew 

no other way. But was indoctrinating vulnerable women the way to do it? Does the end justify the means?

Emily Davison, a martyr for the suffragette cause, died trying to tie a scarf to the kings horse at the derby day in Epsom in 1913. 

There’s argument as to whether she died for the cause to bring recognition to the suffragettes, or whether she was accidentally killed. 

Either way it was indoctrination which led her to take the risks that endangered her life. Women would not be where they are today 

without the suffragettes, their cause and their indoctrination. 

ISIL target the young, marginalised, lonely teen to indoctrinate. They play on their weaknesses, often isolation. The lonely, isolated 

teen with no direction in life spends a lot of time online. Because they are already vulnerable, and wanting to find a sense of 

belonging, it is easy for ISIL to fill this void by indoctrinating them with their ideology. Counter terror expert, Greg Barton, says ISIL 

pander to the teens self esteem and their sense of belonging. Jake Bilardi was a Melbourne teenager. Quiet and awkward, he was 

targeted by ISIL. He was groomed online and began to identify with their ideology. His life came to an end when he gave his life to the 

cause in a suicide bombing.

Much of the Nazi’s success was due to indoctrination of the young. By 1937, 97% of teachers were members of the Socialist 

Teachers League. Nazi ideas were inserted into each subject. The only learning children were exposed to was littered with Nazi 

ideology. Hitler also used to media as an indoctrination tool. Hitlers Nuremberg rallies are an example of how he used the media to 

spread his word and glorify his ideology. Making a film in 1935, ‘Triumph of the Wills ‘ he employed actors for the event and brought in 

technicians to use unique camera angles to create a distorted perspective. One of the greatest propaganda movies of all times it 

indoctrinated the masses into thinking Hitler was  going to make Germany the greatest power of all time. 

Today, the media and television are the most powerful tools of indoctrination. The reason many people think all Muslims are terrorists 

is because of the way the media portrays terrorism. The medias “Grief Porn” and their repeat coverage when an act of terrorism 

occurs is reinforcing the association of Islam and terrorism. The Lindt Cafe siege in Sydney is a prime example of this. Man Monis was 

a lone wolf, a wannabe extremist. His was not a terrorist act but a crazy man carrying out an evil, repulsive, unforgivable act. The 

media continually associated Man Monis with ISIL, despite the fact that he was not part of this terrorist cell.The way the media 

portrayed the whole episode gave rise to terrorist interpretation. 

Indoctrination will always be around. Is it a good or bad thing? Depends on the circumstances. What we must try to do is to make our 

children aware of what it is. Terrorism is only as strong as the people involved. Indoctrination and terrorism go hand in hand. The 

ability to persuade is a dangerous tool, yet at the same time, as in the case of the suffragettes, a useful tool for societal change.

ONE MANS BIZARRE DAY

Todays blog is a story, a true story of a bizarre incident in the life of one man....

The man sat on the railway platform observing his surroundings. He was amazed at the tranquillity of the station. Alone, surrounded by city structures. An oasis in a desert. The man felt exiled. Nobody else seemed to be catching the 11.20 am to Central. He reached into his pocket and pulled out several coins to slot into the ticket machine to purchase his lone ticket. Bling, bling, bling. The echo of the coins dropping into the machine disturbed the silence. Angered by the disruption, several sparrows that had been nesting in a nearby tree chirped and flew away to find another silent area. 

It was a big decision trying to decide which of the empty station seats he would sit on. The man was not used to choices. Mostly he just took what was left, usually being at the bottom of the pecking order. 

Because he was used to the hustle and bustle of a noisy household, the solitude of the station was refreshing to the man. Planning his day without interruption was a new experience to him. No distractions to ruin his train of thought.

All this was about to change. 

Suddenly a large truck pulled up outside the little station. Several men in white overalls rushed out of the truck. Almost falling over each other with enthusiasm. Paint tin in one hand and brushes in the other. The looks on their faces were like that of little children about to embark on a day at the beach with their bucket and spades.

The man looked on, wondering what all this meant.

The men began painting the platform. Pandemonium broke out. In less than a minute, the man’s world had gone from being a quiet haven to utter chaos. Poles that had once been brown were now blue. Seats changed colours in the blink of an eye. The smell of paint making the man feel his surreal surrounding was a sideshow.

The painters continued on, ignoring the lone man on the platform. The station so small it only took them 15 minutes to finish the job. As quickly as they had arrived, the painters returned to their truck and left.

In a daze at what had just so spontaneously occurred, the man did not realise how close he was standing to the edge of the platform. Suddenly from behind him he felt the life being sucked out of him and his ear-drums exploding. Was someone now being sent to demolish this tiny station despite its new eye-catching paint job? Nothing so exciting, just the express train rushing past him at 200 km an hour. His quick reflexes allowed him to jump forward and prevent an early departure from this world.

Five minutes later the man’s train arrived. The short time he had spent on the station platform had been quite bizarre. It was almost with relief he took his seat and sat back, not sure whether he should close his eyes. His thoughts were that of hope for an uneventful trip.

OUR LIFE IS BUT A GARDEN

Our life is but a garden of unplanted seeds. How our life pans out all depends upon how we look after this garden. Like planting the right seeds in the right season, the outcome of an experience in our life is often dependent on when we experience an event.The old age wisdom of overthinking often allows the loss of opportunities. The younger we are the more risks we take, which to my mind a good thing. When we are younger, we have our whole lives ahead of us, we don't fear failure as we have our whole life to catch up. An opportunity which comes our way when we are young will often have a completely different outcome than had this opportunity occurred in later life. Later in life we have children, mortgages, and are not willing to take the risks we would have when footloose, young and fancy free. Sometimes risks that would have proved successful had we been willing to jump in at the deep end..How we react to an experience depends upon when in our life this experience occurs.Our judgement is age related.Immaturity often clouds judgement. Rebellion often clouds judgement. Inexperience often clouds judgement. 

We can meet the right person at the wrong time in our lives. Wrong season.An example of this is my husband and me. I met him during high school, hung out with the same group of friends. We were not attracted to each other in the least. I was a giggly, dizzy teenager who felt the need for attention. He was a serious soul who had no time for silliness. Although our paths crossed it was not the moment for us to be together. We connected again later in life when I was not so silly and he was not so serious.

We need to nurture our life, look after it, just as we would a garden. Watering it regularly, fertilising it with ideas. Discarding all the weeds in our life, which could kill us or dull our senses. Ensure nothing toxic enters our soil to poison or disillusion us; thus preventing our flowers to bloom. Just as a garden has its season, so does our life. We bloom when happy and content, droop and wither when unhappy and unloved. Plants secure their nourishment through their roots, so do we. It is our core root system that ensures our survival. Who we love, how we love. Whether our roots have become rotted by toxic people in our lives, or toxic  experiences. Just as people and experiences can prove toxic to our lives, the right people and experiences can enrich our roots system. Spreading joy, enlightening us to the world around us. 

AU REVOIR TO OUR OLD HOME

There is no easy way to leave a house that has been home for 30 years. Our DNA is ingrained in its walls and floors. Our babies were bought home from hospital to this house, possibly even conceived under its very roof. If the carpet was to be lifted in the family room, tiny paint footprints would be seen scattered randomly along the floor where a little foot toddled into the paint. Ghosts of a young couple embarking on a journey of home ownership lurk at the front door. Not knowing what the future held, but promises of an adventure. Echoes of the laughter of childhood parties, 21st’s and parties we never knew about can be heard whispering in my ears as I walk the now empty rooms.

Surrounded by trees, our home was a sanctuary to native birds. Waking up every morning to the view of my trees, telling me the day would be ok, calming me, and soothing any anxiety dwelling within. Kookaburra’s letting me know the day had begun. A large gum tree out the front was a source of fun to ours, as well as the neighbourhood children. Many a time a child was rescued from the clutches of the branches of our uber giant gum tree. This tree formed the backdrop to formal photo’s, as well as being a gym centre for our cat Benji. Benji, our sixth family member , is buried in the back yard, along with various birds and goldfish. Or is he? a mysterious pot has appeared at  the new house with the tree from Benji’s grave in it. Now i’m just getting creepy.

Our new house is only in the next suburb. Constantly having to go back to our old home is like ripping a bandaid off very slowly, very painfully. A little piece of my heart withers every time I return to our old home. They say a house is only four wall, and it is the people living within which make it a home. This may be true, but within those wall are the love, laughter, tears and memories of thirty years of living. So much has changed since we first set foot into that house. We are embarking on a new journey and will make new memories in our new home. Despite being embalmed in a melancholy sadness at the moment, this in time will lift and I will learn to embrace this next stage of our life, our new adventure. 

THE MONSTERS IN MY HEAD

What would become of me I wondered, as the fear gripped the inner sanctions of my soul. The air surrounding me saturated with the urgency I felt to remove myself from the danger that had become my life. My fear making everything more dangerous. They could smell it. The energy my body generated, just fed their ego.It made them more confident in their ability to overcome me. Looking over my shoulder I could see them gaining. The distance between them and me becoming less with each passing moment. It was time to move. Jumping from my hiding space, I sprang into action. Like a long lost friend, my brain and feet re-connected. Speed became my friend. The monsters were big and cumbersome, I was small and nimble. Accelerating at lightening speed, wrapped in the energy oozing from every pore of my body. I ran and ran and ran until I could run no more. But, what was this, nothing behind me.They had given up, realising I was not such and easy target after all. Or maybe there were never any monsters. A creation of my fear, conjured up in retaliation to the conflict within my soul.

fiona r

Before Caitlyn Jenner there was Carlotta.

Caitlyn Jenner’s story has highlighted the plight of transgender people. She has increased awareness and allowed the world to see that they are no different to any other man or woman. We see Caitlyn Jenner and applaud her bravery at coming out to the world. She has become a spokeswoman for the transgender community. But before Caitlyn Jenner there was Carlotta. An amazing woman who came out in an era of non-acceptance and prejudice. To me, she is the hero. Carlotta says it must have been hard for Caitlyn, having been an Olympian, and American sports hero, to turn around and say,

“You know what, i’m actually a woman”.

However, it would have been decidedly more difficult for Carlotta. Her coming out was constantly thwarted in the conservative atmosphere of Australia in the 60’s and early 70’s. Whereas Caitlyn had her family and community support, Carlotta’s mother was unsupportive, her father all but disowned her and she was forced to undergo “shock therapy”. Wires were attached to her while she was forced to look at pornographic pictures , to try and “cure” her. Barbaric treatment of a person who just wanted to be the woman she was born to be.

The decision would have been  difficult for Caitlyn Jenner to make. Once she made that decision though, things came together for her, much easier than it was for Carlotta.Caitlyn Jenner is high profile. Her coming out was marketed, right down to the Vanity Fair cover.  Caitlyn had magazines waiting to do her make-up and hair and she was made “image ready” to be a cover girl. Talk shows were fighting over her first interview, giving her a platform to bring about awareness of the difficulties she had to overcome in her coming out, and of course she had the support of the public.

Caitlyn, as Bruce Jenner was already a celebrity from her Olympic achievements. She was placed 10th in the decathlon during the 1972 Olympic games in Munich. In 1976, Jenner won gold at the decathlon at the Montreal Olympics. Jenner then became a member of the Kardashian phenomena. Being famous already, Caitlyn had so much more to lose than Carlotta, but at the same time she had a much easier time of it due to the support she had, the era she lived in and the money available to her.

Carlotta on the other hand had less to lose. Carlotta, born Richard Byron, began her career as a member of cabaret show, Les Girls , in Kings Cross Sydney.The world was not watching her. there was no internet to persecute her and document her every move. Physically becoming a woman was more difficult for Carlotta. When Carlotta began drug treatment, the treatments were experimental and expensive, and the side effects unknown. After her gender reassignment which was a very new procedure at the time and riskier, the results were not guaranteed to be what she expected.

Caitlyn’s coming out was made to look so easy. Deceptive even. Photoshopped Vanity Fair covers, designer clothing, possibly even plastic surgery. A normal transgender person does not always have access to these luxuries.For a man becoming a woman, femininity is not as easily achieved as it appears for Caitlyn. Just as we are deceived by the true looks of models in a magazine, we are deceived by the femininity of Caitlyn Jenner. Transgender women could feel disappointment at not being able to live up to the idea of Caitlyn Jenner after seeing her pictures and photoshopped beauty. Carlotta is the real deal. Raw, beautiful, and proud. What you see is what you get. One can see Carlotta’s flaws and feel her difficulties,and admire them,without beautifying this already gorgeous woman.

Carlotta and Caitlyn Jenner are both brave women. Guiding the way to other transgender people afraid to be themselves. Carlotta though, overcame the obstacle that was a conservative, unmoving 60’s society. Carlotta I applaud your tenacity and resilience. How hard you fought to be true to yourself. Caitlyn Jenner had a yellow brick road. Carlotta had quicksand. Carlotta stood alone. Caitlyn was surrounded by an entourage. Both send the message to always be true to yourself.