Palegoldenrod

In keeping with my tradition (interrupted by travel in the last little while), I thought I’d post a blog on ANZAC Day.

This morning I went to the Dawn Service at the Shrine of Remembrance in Melbourne. A few days ago I asked a friend of mine if he wanted to come along – he responded that I “know his views on that” (patriotism and war). It gave me pause to think about why I go every year.

Disclaimer: I am not telling you that you should agree with me; I’m not telling you that this is all there is to gain from reflection or attendance on ANZAC day. I’m just telling you how I feel about the day and what I get out of it.

Not why I go

Nationalism has never quite made sense to me, partly because it is usually demonstrated by people that were born into that heritage to begin with. They’ve done nothing to earn their nationality – why be proud of something over which one has no say or no control? You might as well be proud of your race or your eye colour. If anything it would make more sense for a “new” Australian to be proud: they have chosen to be called Australian, with all the good and bad and expectations and responsibilities that come with it (and that’s if they’re lucky enough to be born into a situation that allows them to travel and change their nationality in the first place: many people in the world still can’t leave their country of birth).

In addition to that, a country is essentially a group of people organised under a government. Australians may have an easier time of identifying with that because our borders are pretty much our continent (and haven’t really changed since federation) and we’re essentially a European nation in Asia, so cultures outside our borders are a strong contrast for us.

This is something that has been indirectly reinforced for me during my linguistics studies: there is a saying “A language is a dialect with an army and a navy”. Meaning that the difference between a dialect and a separate language is the establishment of a government to emphasise it, but there is essentially nothing special about that dialect as opposed to those around it. In the same way the separation of people into countries is only by declaration of a government. It’s a division of convenience, of politics.

Humanity has no lines. Lines are division, division causes aggression, aggression causes violence. The world could do with less lines.

Lastly, I don’t believe in war. I don’t believe in the glorification of war. And let me be quite clear here: my opinion on war is not a judgement on people in the military, it’s a wish that there was no need for the military in the first place.

So I don’t go to see that Australian flag waving and get a tear in my eye while honouring our military achievements. I have other reasons I think are important, to me at least.

Why I go

I have never been in a position where my life has been seriously threatened by violence or war. Almost all of my friends have never been in contact with war or military conflict – certainly the only Australian friends I know that have seen it have volunteered to the military for combat roles.

But I know that there have been (and are now) people who have died, willingly or unwillingly through war, like the children in my grandfather’s generation that lied about their age to enlist.

My grandfather faced the Japanese in the Bougainville Campaign – from what I know, he was enlisted from when he was 18 years old and most of his time was spent in Papua New Guinea with the 9th Australian Infantry Battalion. He came back with post traumatic stress and malaria.

He spoke to me about it on occasion. Only pieces – what man wants to tell his granddaughter horrible stories? – but enough for me to know that he lost many friends while under attack. He spoke about the time he spent in hospital in PNG with malaria and some of the men he got to know as they died.

I have a trinket he sent home to my grandmother from there… a small clear pendant with a palm tree etched in the back: a gift carved by a fellow soldier out of a windshield fragment from a downed Japanese plane. Sometimes I look at it and try to imagine how different my grandparents’ life was to mine: thrown into war in the prime of youth; the community losing so many friends, partners, husbands, brothers. Fearing for their own safety and feeling like the world was being torn apart.

When I used to go to the smaller dawn services in Newcastle, NSW I would wander down to the RSL afterwards and buy the local diggers a pint or to and chat to them. I have to admit, I’ve missed that small-town community feel this time around (my first ANZAC day in Melbourne and my first in a big city). Each of the diggers have stories of their own that are interesting, humbling and important to the community.

I go to ANZAC Day be reminded of all this horror, so I can appreciate what others have been through, what others have lost. So I value what I have.

I have been born into a time, place and culture where I have never (and hopefully will never) be put in a position where I will face violent conflict, either because I am told I have to or because I need to defend myself or my community. (There are many other things I appreciate about my life like access to education, free speech, equal rights etc, but I’ll stick to my main thoughts related to ANZAC Day).

When I stand at the Dawn Service I think of those people who have died in all wars on all sides, and I do cry at the thought of how terrible it was for them in their last hours or minutes. I don’t care how or why they got there, whether they were conscripted or bullied or volunteered or had to defend themselves. I see avoidable agony and lonely, terrifying death. I hope that I never have to see it and that our children and grandchildren never have to see it.

If there are restless spirits of soldiers somewhere I hope that it’s enough for them that I’m standing there of my own choice to remember the fallen, their experiences and pain, to appreciate the life I’ve been born into and the peacetime that I am fortunate enough to live in.

So, you see

I am not proud to be Australian. I greatly appreciate that I am lucky enough to be one, and one in the Australia at this point in history.

I am not proud of our military history. I sincerely appreciate that I don’t have to be a part of it.

Being in temp accommodation (sans internet) after my house-hunting trek this morning I dropped into the office to use the net and prep some lease applications among other things.

And then the hail started, followed quickly by the flashflooding. I threw out this video of the view of Elizabeth Street from my office window.

Twitter picked it up and it suddenly ended up everywhere, which was interesting to watch . I’d not really had a chance to see that happen realtime on Twitter before – it’s no wonder there is research on social media in disaster areas and its use as a source of info for emergency workers and the media.

(Here’s another video of Elizabeth St after the waters receded, for comparison).

Knowing there was another storm front coming, and preferring to be in an office with internet and music than at my apartment, I stepped outside to get some food and beer when the water receeded. And I remembered what it was like after every minor incident I’ve experienced: there is energy in the air. That sense of community creeps back in.

Strangers were candidly sharing stories about where they were and what they saw. I saw the same thing years ago after the huge storm in NSW that derailed the train I was on, shut down half of the state, caused multiple fatalities, millions of dollars damage and ultimately beached the Pasha Bulker at a city beach in Newcastle.

I understand why it happens. Several reasons:

• Something out of the ordinary brings people out of their distracted world / sort of a wakeup
• Excitement / adrenalin
• Wanting information
• Sort of bragging / desire to share (the story telling)
• Shared experience (context)

I just wish that this removal of barriers was around more often. It would be much nicer to have more nice random conversations and connections with strangers – we do live in the same city, after all

#justputtingitoutthere

I’ve had such an odd start to the year, those who know me can probably tell things have been strange just by looking at me. I was talking to a friend today about some of it, and he used the term “shrouded in mystery” (particularly relating to my online absence) which didn’t sit well with me. Frankly I didn’t think people would pay so much attention to it, or assume it was caused by them.

So here is my spiel, leading into the year (some explanation rolled in, but not a full story).

There have been key points in my life where I’ve been aware that I am about to take that next step in the evolution of the personality labelled ‘Carly’. Almost always this involved me hibernating for a period of time. While I used to think that this was a bad thing I’m beginning to embrace retreating (either formally at an ashram or temple or just by myself) as something that I need to do regularly (a realisation on its own).

For some progressions the catalyst has been a significant event (joyous or terrible), some have been simply caused by self reflection without having anything actually prompting it. In those cases where something has happened, it almost always was an event involving people.

This time, people were not the primary cause, though several have (in different ways) put their momentum (unknowingly) behind the retreat and were responsible for several minor realisations.

This time it is my health in the driver’s seat – something I’ve never really had reason to be concerned about in the past.

In the last month or so leading up to Christmas I became concerned about my health – my regular exercise routine seemed to be tiring me rather than conditioning me; my sleeping patterns were deteriorating; I felt sick often; and I observed that it was increasingly difficult for me to remember things and get my brain working (to be honest this was what worried and frustrated me the most – I think even my ability to speak and write coherently is affected).

I took myself to the doctor and had a full checkup. Being used to the response “you’re fine. stop worrying. why are you even here?” – I was not prepared for the hesitant concern expressed by my doctor or the five million gallons of bloodwork she ordered.

This concern sat in the back of my mind over Christmas and New Years and I have no doubt it (and often feeling ill) contributed to the short fuse I had with many of my friends over that period.

Early this year I received the results of those tests – which were not great, but I’m not about to drop dead (so stop worrying – it’s the effect of the news and not the news I want to talk about). This was a slap in the face for me.

Essentially I am broken. There are several things that my body can’t do properly – one of which indirectly impedes my brain such that my ability to think and my mood are affected (in addition to the usual low mood that sometimes comes with feeling sick for long periods).

That particular problem has apparently been there for a long time, and has been steadily deteriorating over the last year due to me neglecting and pushing myself in ways most people can handle. Luckily there are ways to help compensate for most of what my body is unable to do for itself. Some other things are just broken and always will be.

My doctors have made it very clear that my body can’t take much more abuse (in no uncertain terms) as well as a few other things that affect my future self. And this is where I find myself assessing my current situation.

Am I doing what I want to be doing, big picture? Am I where I want to be at this point in my life? Have I succeeded in keeping my life free of those things that I know I don’t need or want (or at the very least made a good attempt at it)? Have I filled my life with those things that I do value and do need (or at least made a good attempt at it)? Do I at least have a rough idea of where I want to go from here and am I happy with where the current momentum is taking me? Have I maintained perspective?

There are two things that I want from my life so that when I’m on my death bed I can look back and be satisfied:

1. To have as few regrets as possible; and
2. To have left a positive impact on the world, no matter how unrecognised or quiet or local that effect is. (I guess the flipside of this is to reduce the negative impact I have on the world while I am here).

And the answers I find? This last week or so I’ve been more aware that medication is making me feel sicker rather than better (I was warned – it will improve soon apparently) and that my brain is only just starting to work again – a welcome change as I’d been doubting my ability to assess and respond to situations or make decisions. This fear of making bad decisions, executing poorly chosen responses and generally feeling ill have been the main reasons I’ve been keeping to myself so far this year (both online and IRL).

I realised I’ve recently made some decisions that I regret, that I’ve handled some situations poorly: I’ve trusted people that have mistreated me, I’ve mistreated people I should’ve trusted. The last fortnight has been especially eventful: I’ve lost friends, made friends, and had a few old friends step back into my life unexpectedly (and for the latter, happily). You know who you are – I was (and am) glad to hear from you. I’ve also found out that some people have taken this retreat / hibernation personally. For those of you I hope this post explains it well enough. You are not the centre of the world

I realised that in some ways I’ve managed to get caught up in little-picture issues, rather than keeping view of the big picture as I normally do. I’ve been holding a few pebbles up to my eye and losing perspective of the fact that the path is strewn with millions of them, and the right place for them is beneath my feet. A part of me wonders if living in the city (city pace, city space, city people) is contributing to it… I don’t know yet.

My plans for study, regular volunteering and aid work prep are progressing as intended. My exploration of Melbourne and Victoria continues, albeit slowly. In these things at least I’m happy with their part in the big picture.

I’m more grounded when I’m in the big picture mindset: this is one reason I like to be outdoors – not necessarily to get away from the city and people (although that does have it’s advantages at times) but more to look up at the sky or the stars and think about the weather system or the universe and how tiny I am. Or look at the trees in the forest and think about time – how much has passed, how much more will pass, and how fleeting my life is.

It sometimes has the opposite effect on people but for me it makes my eyes wide in wonder, helps me feel the breath in my lungs and the feel of the soles of my feet on the earth. I can’t help but smile and laugh there. I am at my best there.

This is the place I’m slowly regaining. This is where I was in the year before I left Australia, where I was while I was away and is a place I’ve found only fleetingly since I returned. This is the place I want to be, am determined to be.

I hope I arrive to find like-minded people standing there with me.