July 2013

In recent days, the Prime Minister of Australia declared boat people will no longer be welcome in Australia, and if they head that way, they’ll be settled elsewhere for “processing”. I have a lot of mixed emotions around this news, but the one over-riding feeling is a deep sadness – a sadness that my country has lost compassion for people most in need. Not just the government, but the citizens of Australia declaring their support for this move – with “good on ya” and “they’ll steal our jobs.” It’s just left me feeling so so sad. Front page of the immigration site this week – sharing another’s grief is good policy because? I think it’s important to differentiate between an immigrant and a refugee. Immigrants come to Australia in their thousands every year – something I love, because it makes it a richer country. Sure there can be problems, but on the whole, it’s pretty peaceful Downunder and my home country is richer for it. A refugee is different – as defined by the UNHCR here: “A refugee is someone who has been forced to flee his or her country because of persecution, war, or violence. A refugee has a well-founded fear of persecution for reasons of race, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership in a particular social group. Most likely, they cannot return home or are afraid to do so. War and ethnic, tribal and religious violence are leading causes of refugees fleeing their countries.” In Wiki: “A refugee is a person who is outside his or her country of origin or habitual residence because they have suffered (or fear) persecution on account of race, religion, nationality, political opinion, or because they are a member of a persecuted ‘social group‘ or because they are fleeing a war or natural disaster. Such a person may be called an ‘asylum seeker’ until recognized by the state where they make a claim.” So let us all agree that these people are not having a very good time in their homeland. Thankfully there are sensible people around – with many of my friends equally outraged – and I also enjoyed this article in The Age by Julian Burnside. One point he makes is on the legalities – “Asylum seekers do not commit any offence by coming here. Under the Universal Declaration of Human Rights every person has the right to seek asylum in any territory they can reach.”  When referred to as queue jumpers, he makes another excellent point, “As for “queue-jumping”, leave aside that there is no queue where boat people come from, the etiquette of the checkout at Coles is not how it works when you are running for your life.” It’s equally interesting how the politics of fear have been used…I really appreciate that this is a sensitive topic and equally appreciate that many people have strong opinions about it, but I just want to share some stories that changed me forever. Maybe someone reading this will change their mind and focus on the need to get every nation in this world back on track with compassion too? Maybe everyone reading this is already in agreement?  I just reckon we need to take care of each other. What did Jesus say: “what you do to the least of my brothers, you do unto me”? My first life-changer happened when I was about 14 or 15 years old. Two sisters joined my school and their names were Lychee and Lumyai. They came from a country called Laos, and for our predominantly white (at that time) country town in Australia, they were very different to the rest of us. We all laughed at their funny names of course, and then they were just part of the crew. There was no difference. Then someone was inspired (a teacher, their parents?) because one day both L&Ls Mum and Dad, their brothers and sisters (9 I believe) all came to the school to tell us the story of how they got to Albury. My memory won’t serve me here, but I believe the essence is correct. Laos was going through a brutal civil war at the time, and when things got absolutely desperate, the parents made the decision they had to get out – something no citizen was free to do, because people didn’t have passports and the country was under complete control. I don’t remember why this decision was made, but faced with brutal communist rule and raising a large family – wanting the best for their kids like any parent – I can only imagine why. Actually, I probably can’t imagine the why, because I’ve never had to experience humanity at its absolute worst like they did. Their Dad strapped all 10 children, his wife, the grandmother and himself to the bottom of a train and they travelled the full length of Laos and escaped when the train landed in Thailand (I think). Sadly, the grandmother and one of their siblings died on this journey. Now I don’t know about you, but can you imagine how hideous an experience like this would be – especially for young children? The fear of falling? The fear of being caught? Not being able to eat? How frighteningly dark it was for the little ones? Can you imagine how bad life must have been – even a little bit? I can’t, I just can’t. The family finally made it to Australia, but I’m sure it was a very long time and years of desperate uncertainty, being treated like animals, before they found themselves settled in their home in Albury, where the children could go to school and they all could be part of a community again. I don’t know if they had to stay in resettlement facilities, I don’t know what they suffered, and I don’t know who sponsored them to make it to our town (potentially the Catholic Church?) I’m just glad someone did and they were finally able to start living the dream of a better life for their entire

I was not raised with a belief in reincarnation (the Catholic Church got rid of that escape clause before the Middle Ages), but I really like the idea of it, ‘cos it means you get to explore every possible angle of being human – including that which you love and that which you hate in the life you’re living right now. So if you hate boat people and have no compassion for them, chances are you’ll come back as one next time. For me, reincarnation is an interesting idea. Living in Asia, where thousands of years of different beliefs are around you all the time, it makes the possibilities hard to ignore. However, I suppose I just find it hard to reject outright because of my past decade experiencing all sorts of ghost activity – they just don’t want to leave me alone. Therefore from my life experience perspective, there seems so much going on I can’t explain with a rational mind, so I remain open to possibilities. But this isn’t about whether or not you or I believe in reincarnation. It’s a lot simpler than that. I was in a cab on Friday night and thought – after a particularly grueling week – if I do get another run at a new life, I’d love to be an academic, who never gets married, never has kids, and just studies one tiny subject in the greatest detail possible all of my life and then die peacefully and happy. I reckon that would be one good life to experience – completely in the mind and not caring about other stuff – like love – which includes not being distracted by anything or anyone else. As I said, a grueling week. So then I thought, what else would I like to experience? Well I’d like to be…. An award winning war photographer, capturing humanity at the front lines of war and showing its pointlessness. Of course, in my future lives I hope there are no wars, but still, it would be an experience. The other aspect of this life is living at the edge completely. I’ve lived as close to the edge as I can throughout my life, being alone in dangerous or completely different places. In these moments, you are drawn to others in the same boat, and the only thing you have in common is a combined need to be with people like you when you are living in a sea of difference and the unfamiliar. You party very hard in these times, because no one really knows you, you’ll never see each other again, it’s good to feel like you belong somewhere, and it’s the most freeing time of your life. I definitely want to encourage the boys to take these moments in their lives, but I must say it’s an experience hard to explain to people who’ve never done it. So I’d like a life where I take it even closer to the edge Dominatrix – as opposite to me today as you could get, that would be an interesting life. I’d have a posh dungeon in downtown NYC I reckon. Definitely my alter ego  I’d love to have a life as an Ancient History professor – making young‘uns passionate about the world and its ancient past Musically there would be a few. A banjo playing country music STAR, an opera singer, a virtuoso cellist (female, ‘cos it’s a sexy instrument), but most of all, probably a hard rocking, bass playing rock chick clad in leather It would be great to live a simple life, high up in the mountains as a Buddhist Monk, helping all around me find their serenity within I’d like to be one of the super-rich, experiencing all that life has to offer, but equally be a great philanthropist, with a focus on tackling women’s health issues and ensuring not a single child is sold into sexual slavery. Again, I hope that by that time, neither of those problems exist in our world, but that would be what I’d want to tackle if it did get a life like that I’d love to be a metaphysics master, with all the mathematical and scientific prowess that entails, mastering the power of the stars and the natural magnetic energies of the planet A healer of the human spirit – no idea how that would play out, but when I see so many around me suffering in their hearts, for so many reasons, I’d love a life where I can help ease that An Anthony Robbins/Robin Sharma kind of motivational superstar – that would be awesome, because I think they share great and inspiring messages with the world A stand-up comic – yes, that needs to be in there. A maestro who makes people laugh their arses off Well it’s been a pretty cool process for me thinking about this, and so I must ask – ifyou had a few more lives to look forward to, what would you like them to be? It’s not about belief in reincarnation, it’s about daydreaming. Anyone want to join me and share theirs? COME ON – you know you want to…. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I read today that Nissan Motors is unveiling its first car in the resurrected Datsun brand in India, and while everything about this announcement makes total sense, it brings back so many memories…. This is a hotted up version of our old car… while ours was also red, it wasn’t this pretty and it didn’t have a roof For some bloody reason, I had the only Dad in the world who did not give a shit about his car. He changed in his later years – getting more stylish top to bottom – but as kids, we were never able to claim any pride in our father’s choice of family vehicle. The stand-out amongst all of his bad car choices was the red Datsun two door wagon – with tarp. I don’t know why my Dad chose a wagon for a family of six, with only two seats in the front – but I can tell you something, we REALLY had a reason to fight over who got the front seat. Unlike most other families we grew up with, we had the arse-aching pleasure of sitting on a corrugated metal slab for our journeys. It got so bad that one year my Great Aunty Bel – who felt sorry for us when she realised we had a 600km round-trip on that surface – donated a piece of her couch so at least three of us could sit on something a little more comfortable. Unfortunately there wasn’t room across for four, so my youngest brother, Mark, always got the shitty end of that stick. Sorry Mark. This is a tuba – boob height on me I am still impacted by this experience, because I find it incredibly challenging being in an airless environment (it’s as close to a panic attack as I get) due to sitting under a tarp in said Datsun during hot Australian summers, with no air circulating at all. It was equally bloody cold in the winter, especially when we went up the mountains to go skiing. Brrrrrrr. The highlight, of course, was the fact that we were quite a musical family. Twice a week at least, we’d head off to band practice, and if we were lucky we’d get to do a gig at a local fate, festival or even entertain the grannies at a retirement home on weekends – we actually did enjoy it alright. Anyway, everyone would arrive in their suitable family vehicle, looking presentable and comfortable, whereas in we’d come a-chuggin to have the hatch released, and out would flow two very large tubas, probably some percussion gear (‘cos we were good like that), a euphonium, and a couple of cornets, followed by four children in a disheveled state. Mate, we were proud I tell you. We eventually upgraded the Datsun to a beige family car – this time with back seats – but it was one of those mini-family sedans, so still not enough room. Come on DAD!! As such we still had good reason to fight over the front seat. My boys are bloody lucky I tell ya – growing up in a time when at least seat belts are required is what I would call progress. So fellow Wodonga Brass Bandies – remember the Datsun? And anyone else have a special car in their childhood memory banks? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

10 years ago today I met the love of my life and I even wrote a blog about it once. However, this morning Steve jumped on a plane and flew to Australia, so we’re not going to be able to celebrate our decade together – other than the 4.30am happy anniversary kiss I got this morning. Steve did leave me a lovely note though (as well as enough of my favorite chocolate to last while he’s away) and the note said lots of things, but one comment stood out which I thought was worth sharing: It’s not our wedding anniversary, but this is one more result from that fateful night 10 years ago… “10 years, 2 kids, 8 homes, 5 countries, 2 redundancies, 7 schools, 4 operations and 4 helpers later I realize I love you more and more every day.” Sweet huh? Until he went on to say that I do shit him sometimes occasionally too… which of course I do, because I shit myself, so it comes with the territory. But what do you reckon – a lot achieved in a decade huh? I think so and when you see it written down that way, it makes you stop and think. Perhaps it’s time to take a breath? Nah – boring! However, there’s something I’d like to acknowledge about my beloved and it’s one of the reasons I feel like a very lucky girl every day. Steve works his arse off for me and the boys. He never stops working for us, because he is singularly motivated to ensure we are happy all the time, and while sometimes it can be a bit overwhelming, it is always appreciated – always – and it makes me work harder for him too. As an example, yesterday, in the craziness of getting packed and spending time with each of us before leaving, he filled the car with petrol, made sure there was enough money on the cash card so I didn’t get stuck, transferred money around accounts so I could easily access it, stocked the home with my favorite things, stocked the home with potential necessities, paid bills so I don’t have to worry about it, spent one-on-one time with Jax, then spent one-on-one time with Lex, took me out for dinner, and got himself packed, etc… Recently when I went to the US he did the same – got US$ for me, confirmed my flights, reserved great seats on every leg of the journey, made sure my points were attributed, and generally made sure everything was sorted so I only needed to pack my bag, get on the plane and go. He’s a remarkable fella. But I want him to start working for himself a little too. He is so selfless he always puts himself at the bottom of the priority pile. If I need something or the boys need something, he drops everything and he’s there. That’s why I’m not pissed off about him being away for this anniversary weekend because he’s doing something for himself. He’s extended a business trip to spend time with people he adores and they’re going to see an Aussie Rules Football match – boys bonding over sport, does it get better than that? So I love my man and feel very privileged to be with him, but darling, remember to take care of YOU too and go enjoy every second of this weekend because YOU bloody deserve it. Equally, while we’ll all miss you, I’m happy to hang out with our little dudes, making sure they’re happy, while you have a jolly-good time with your mates. Hand on heart, it’s the truth. Happy decade together babe – you definitely get less for murder. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea