Author: carlasimmonswriter

I write about relationships, human nature, women's issues, travel, spirituality, and anything in the natural environment. Sometimes I write about writing and my journey to authordom. I follow whatever piques my interest and share what I find. I'm writing a novel about women in mid-life, the challenges they face and their ability to evolve. Australia is my home and I feel blessed to be here.

What is Ego?

What is ego? I’ve asked myself this question since 70’s band Skyhooks sang, “Ego is not a dirty word.” It seems it doesn’t have an easy explanation or a clear definition unless we accept the dictionary version which only touches the surface: a person’s sense of self-esteem or self-importance.

I’ve studied many spiritual, self-help and awareness books. I’ve listened to gurus and spoken philosophically with other learning friends. I’ve spent hours thinking, practising breathwork and being present in an attempt to be a more conscious, authentic, and connected person. During this process, I’ve tried even harder to understand what ego is, and why it might, after all, be a dirty word.

In his book, A New Earth, Eckhart Tolle thoroughly explains ego. I highly recommend reading or listening to anything this enlightened man says, but I’m going to do my best to summarise his words.

Ego is identification with form, primarily thought forms, but also physical and emotional forms.

What does that mean?

It means thinking we are our thoughts, our minds, our bodies, and our abilities. It means endowing with a sense of self, stuff we own, people we mix with, where we live. It means identifying with a type, a style, or behaviour.

Any conceptual sense of self – seeing ourselves as this or that – is ego, whether predominately positive (I am great) or negative (I am no good).

Behind every positive self-concept is the hidden fear of not being good enough. Behind every negative self-concept is the hidden desire to be better than others. Whenever we feel superior or inferior to anyone, we are being led by our egos.

The egoic mind is completely conditioned by the past. The content it identifies with is conditioned by upbringing, the environment, and our surrounding culture.

The ego lives through comparison. How we are seen by others turns into how we see ourselves, like a mirror that tells us what we are like and who we are. The ego’s sense of self-worth is in most cases bound up with the worth we have in the eyes of others.

The ego tends to equate having with being – I have, therefore I am. And the more I have, the more I am. This ego-identification with things creates our consumer society and economic structures. But things are identity enhancers and don’t last.

When forms we identify with are no longer there, the ego can collapse but quickly reemerge with a strong mental image as victim. Negativity, resentfulness, and bitterness form and as we criticise and complain, the ego gets stronger causing a feeling of superiority, which in turn creates more negativity. Our perception becomes selective and distorted causing us to see what we want to see and then misinterpret it. Life will not be helpful.

When we shift our focus from the external to the feeling of aliveness within us, we sense our essence, the formless dimension, the state of consciousness called Being that is really us. Any actions we take will be in alignment with the whole and supported by creative intelligence. There will be inner peace.

There is a deep interrelatedness between our state of consciousness and our external reality.

Realising that what we perceive, experience, think or feel, is not who we are, and understanding that the desire to stand out, be special, be in control, or have power comes from fear – the fear of being nobody, the fear of non-existence – leads us to the connection with our true, formless selves, our essence identities, and to all living things.

When we accept that it is ego – identification with culture and country and religion and roles – that separates humans and causes conflict and unhappiness, when we become aware that it is ego that limits us and prevents us from being compassionate, when we learn non reactivity and are peaceful with the present moment, we find ourselves attuned to a far greater intelligence than the cleverness of our egos.

All that is necessary to become free of the ego, is to become aware of it. Awareness is the power that is concealed within the present moment. It is called Presence. Only Presence can undo the past in us, thereby transforming our states of consciousness.

I finally understand that ego is an illusory sense of self, that it is limiting and harmful and masks a far greater dimension that is our true essence, the spirit within. Becoming aware of thoughts and emotions as they happen, accepting reality, and disidentifying with all types of forms which create negativity, allows that essence to shine and creative intelligence to win.

I, for one, now I understand ego a little better, will do my best to go beyond it and be my best and truest, most present self. I won’t pretend it will be easy, but awareness and practise will help. How about you? What’s your ego doing right now?

If you’re interested in furthering your understanding of the concept of ego and consciousness, I’d recommend:

Artwork created by Carla Simmons, Ric Holland and AI art tools.

Travels: Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan and Istanbul

When I told people I was going to Uzbekistan and Azerbaijan, many asked Why?

I admit, my knowledge of the place was limited to television documentaries like Joanna Lumley’s Silk Road Adventure  https://www.amazon.com/Joanna-Lumleys-Silk-Road-Adventure/dp/B091JNK3KC and Silk Road from Above, https://www.sbs.com.au/ondemand/tv-series/silk-road-from-above , but that was part of the attraction for me: not knowing a lot meant learning about it, first hand. I was drawn in by the idea of the first traders on camels, of wells and forts and ancient civilisations in the desert.

So, my answer to why was simply curiosity about places that had piqued my interest, plus, their closeness to Istanbul, a city I’ve wanted to explore for forty years, ever since an architect I worked for showed me his holiday snaps. I remember being in awe of the grand Islamic architecture, the aqua and turquoise tiles, the pretty patterns and ornate designs carved in stone and painted on walls. These elements, I knew, were also seen along the entire silk route. So, flying into and out of Istanbul, I had my desired holiday package.

A thousand photos and a journal later, I can say I had a good time and learned so…. much.

Istanbul didn’t disappoint. The Old City with the 6th century Hagia Sophia – the building that was the largest cathedral for a thousand years then converted to a mosque in the fifteenth century and houses works of art and symbolism from both faiths – and the underground Basilica Cistern – now a watery, sculptural gallery; the 17th century Blue Mosque with it’s gorgeous, glazed tiles; the Topkapi Palace with its museum of beautiful dining things – jewelled spoons and embellished ceramics. And the most fun thing – the indulgent and restorative bathing experience at the glorious, old city hamam https://www.hurremsultanhamami.com/en/. Think warm, white marble slabs, lots of hot water, a woman scrubbing your skin (if you’re a woman) and slathering you with liquid mud and bubbles and a soothing massage. Yes, it was divine.

Then, on to Khiva, Bukhara, and Samarkand (Uzbekistan), UNESCO World Heritage, Medieval, walled cities. The architecture, the frescos and ceramic tiles, the symbolism of the Zoroastrian and Muslim religions, the religious universities (madrassahs), the scale, were all so impressive, particularly when I tried to imagine the thriving civilisations who once lived there and the astronomers and mathematicians and philosophers who began our scientific world.

Learning about the history of these places, I felt as inconsiderable as a grain of sand.

That’s a good thing about travel and history – they give us perspective, teaching us we should live our best lives and not waste time on trivial worries because soon enough, we’ll be history too.

In the fabulous city of Samarkand, I learned that kindness is still alive and well. I had been sick, but thinking I was better, went for a walk on my own. In a café – where I’d gone to rest and have a coffee and donut (the plainest thing on the menu) – I suddenly felt very ill. The next thing I knew I was looking up at a gaggle of Italian tourists who fussed over and soothed me through fainting, vomiting and language differences. They didn’t back off until the paramedics took over. Long story, short, the Uzbek waiter was so nice to me I wrote him a letter the next day praising him and apologising. Had it not been for these strong, generous, compassionate people, my experience would have been even more horrific.

Events like these can turn us off travel, but if it wasn’t for some difficulties, how would we ever know how helpful people can be and how resilient we are? And it’s the challenges that make the best stories, anyway.

Like the drive from Fergana across the mountain range to Tashkent. Not only were there herds of goats on the highway, but the weather closed in, and we found ourselves in a blizzard. Soon enough, the traffic was jammed, all drivers trying not to slip in the snow. A four-hour journey turned to seven, but we were grateful to arrive unscathed.

Fortunately, that night we weren’t sleeping in either a yurt in the desert or a homestay in the mountains. On arrival at 9.30pm, we celebrated staying in a modern Hilton hotel (bypassing the sheik’s Rolls Royce parked at the door) and went straight to the bar.

The final adventure was Azerbaijan. This modern city has exciting contemporary architecture, ritzy high-end shops, oil rigs galore and good restaurants with personality and music. The ‘inner city’ is the old city contained within ancient walls, in which people still live. An hour out of town are rocks with Paleolithic petroglyphs (ancient rock art), plains of bubbling mud and cracks in the earth that breathe fire.

I haven’t mentioned the silk embroidery or carpets but believe me, this history and the examples we saw were captivating. It was hard not to bring home a suitcase of mementos, too.

In all, I learned a lot about civilisations of the last two thousand years, about astonishing leaders like Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, about wars and takeovers, about Russian occupation and withdrawal, about religions living side by side (and not), about the early, great thinkers, and the evolution of the silk trade. I learned that all three countries are secular (state affairs are non-religious) and in Uzbekistan and Azerbaijan, the dominant Muslim religion is very relaxed. I dressed modestly out of respect and always felt safe. I ate pomegranates and baklava, photographed cats and walked a gazillion steps. My curiosity is sated, and my understanding of humanity, greater.

Perhaps it’s for this that we should travel anywhere at all.

ISTANBUL

UZBEKISTAN

AZERBAIJAN

Mindset Hack



Thinking that you GET to do things instead of thinking you HAVE to do them, is a well-being hack I picked up from scrolling through social media this week.

Having a few minutes spare, I opened Instagram to vicariously enjoy friends’ holidays. I paused as a Reese Witherspoon video appeared and being a fan of this brilliant woman, I chose to stop and listen to what she had to say. Yes, it would take the few spare minutes I had, but that’s what happens on social media, so stay with me.

She has credited Steve Guttenberg for this insight, but I’m sure neither he nor Reese are the first people to pronounce it. The advice is: instead of saying you have to do such and such, say, I get to do such and such.

It changes the mindset – the attitude you have to the task or the situation.

I get to rise at dawn so I can write more of my novel. I get to exercise each day so I can stay healthy. I get to work, go shopping, do the washing, clean my house, make a phone call, go to the physio, walk the dog… You get the picture. I’m fortunate I get to do these things.

Changing the words you use changes the way you feel. Instead of feeling weighed down by a have to, feel uplifted by a get to.

The get to generates gratefulness and positivity.

I get to write my blog once a month. I love doing it because I get to express things that interest me. But I often reach the time it should be published – like today – and feel pressured because I also have a novel to write and a life to live. We all feel pressured by the things we need to do, right?

So, when I woke this morning thinking, I have to write my blog, Reese’s video came back to me. I changed that thought to I get to write my blog, and I instantly felt a little burst of positivity. It was just enough to make me see I also have a choice as to how much time to spend on it. And here is the result. I hope that you benefit from it.  

Why Write a Blog

Does anyone read my blog? Why do I write it?

These are questions I have been asked, from time to time, by close family and friends. Sometimes, I have asked them myself.

I don’t know how many people read it. I don’t look into the stats, and I don’t ask people I know. I do get a thrill when someone comments. Even a Like is enough to give me a ripple of satisfaction.

But I don’t write it for others. Not predominantly, anyway. I figure if my words are interesting and true, they will resonate with people. Perhaps someone will learn something. Perhaps I’ll change someone’s mind or expand it. That’s not my business. Expressing myself, is.

Self-expression is the main reason I write. I find it easier to write what I think than to say what I think. Writing gives me the chance to process a topic I’m interested in. I can research and whittle information down to concise points. I can think as I’m writing and then I can refine the words until I have a good understanding of a topic.

The reasons I specifically write a blog, though, are more diverse.

When I started writing a novel, I was advised by those in the know that a social media presence was necessary. That was a long time ago, back when I had no idea a novel was going to take me over seven years. I opened a Facebook page and started a blog. Regular input was advised, so I tried to write monthly. Sometimes I didn’t make it and there were blog droughts. But this year I am thoroughly committed because I can see the publisher’s light at the end of the tunnel. Blog Posts have renewed importance.

Another reason for writing a blog is that it gives me an excuse to follow varied and unrelated interests. I am interested in the natural environment, the topical issues in my community and my country, the mystical and spiritual, character traits, relationships, the craft of writing… so many things. My blog covers whatever piques my interest at the time. Sometimes it’s related to issues in my novel. India seems to be mentioned a lot.

Publishing monthly adds pressure to my life, but it also adds satisfaction. I get a buzz out of a Post’s completion. Since the novel has taken so long, these little bursts of goal setting and achievement are like snacks during fasts, roadhouses on a desert highway.

The writing is also practise. I get to refine my skill as a writer.

So, the why is clear. I write because I like to. It adds quality to my life.

As to the readers, I know I have a few. Sometimes, they have let me know that I’ve touched them. And that’s greatly satisfying. I like to think I have added quality to someone else’s life. It would be rewarding to know a Post of mine started a conversation.

If you enjoy a Post, it will help me if you hit Like, make a comment, and Share it. Two-way conversations are always better than monologues.

Maybe, after this Post, you’ll even be inspired to write your own.

WAR AND CONSCIENCE

Yesterday, in Australia, we celebrated ANZAC Day. It was a public holiday. It began with diligent citizens gathering at memorial structures to commemorate and commiserate. We acknowledged those Australians and New Zealanders who fought for our land and our freedom; those who died and those who survived; those who were sacrificed and those who sacrificed themselves; those who lost loved ones and those whose lives were changed forever.

Grateful civilians and current armed force soldiers spent a minute thinking about the sacrifice and the benefits gained from war. We watched marches and honoured old soldiers with speeches.

I feel united with fellow Australians, no matter where they came from. Aboriginals, Irish, British, Italian, Maltese, Iranian, Indonesian, Indian, Japanese, Chinese, Vietnamese… whatever. In Australia, we’re a mix. We get along well.

I am a grateful civilian. In Australia, I feel safe.

Unfortunately, not everyone who doesn’t feel safe, who’s suffering in their country, can get in to this refuge, this paradise we call Australia. There’s an entrance fee to this party and being so exclusive, it’s high. Desperate people try to get in the back door. But they get caught and they pay. They must be invited and despite horrible need, the uninvited are rejected. Australia doesn’t want them unless there’s something in it for them.

Where they come from, there is war, there is famine, there is persecution and unrelenting hardship. The humane thing to do would be to let them in, give them a chance to start over, share what we have, share our good luck. For luck is all it is.

If we were born here, we hit the jack pot. If we were allowed to settle here, we won the lottery. Luck is what separates us. Our consciences should admit that.

But coming back to ANZAC Day: a war was fought so that we would remain lucky. It was won. With the eternal flame, Australians will be eternally grateful.

Grateful but conflicted. There is so much war in the world. People fight over land, over God, over who is the superior race. Huge numbers of people die. Soldiers, civilians, old people, innocent children. Governments spend a fortune protecting their piece of earth or attacking someone else’s. The lunacy is escalating.

In Australia this year, our government has spent about $50 billion strengthening our armed forces. Imagine what else could be done with that.

Imagine a world where the military funds were spent on restoring the planet’s health.

Imagine a world where humanity appreciated and respected others’ differences instead of divisively guarding similarities.

Imagine a world where people learned from one another, moving around as if the earth was one country, living where they liked, sharing resources. Imagine.

Imagine a world with no war.

Can it only be a dream? Sadly, for a long while, I think so. But dreams are there to be reached for. Dreams are goals, so make them for good.

It would be helpful to remember the ethical code of the ANZACs. No wounded comrade would be left behind on the battlefield if there was the smallest chance of saving them. They might have only known that person for a short while, but young men risked their lives to help. They had a conscience, a feeling of mateship, camaraderie, empathy. They could imagine themselves as the other.

That’s what we need to do. We need to imagine ourselves in the other’s shoes. We need to imagine we’re all mates. We need to imagine us all getting along and the earth being one. We need to imagine a planet where there was no need for war. We need to imagine a time where we could all be grateful.

Picture courtesy of ABC Australia 2021

Environmental Consciousness

As I sit in my room at a resort in Coron in the Philippines, I look out over low trees to the strip of sparkling blue water and the almost uninhabited green hills behind, and recall the last few days of diving in the waterways of Coron Bay.

 

It’s been a nice holiday. I’ve met some new people, been active and adventurous, explored a bit more of the world. Scuba diving is a wonderful sport for a keen traveller. Shipwrecks, the big draw card of Coron, are fun to float through. Their eerie, dark stillness is exciting and paradoxically calming at the same time. It’s surreal to see fish pass by port holes, to recognize ladders and engines under coral growth, to swim through holes in steel.

 

But I’ve been disappointed, too. From my balcony, the view looks pristine and the landscape, healthy. Closer to the real world, it’s not so good.

 

There is a great big gash in the side of a hill. Dirt has been dug and removed. Down by the water, in front of the mangroves, a mound of earth rises up a couple of meters over the water line. It stretches half a kilometer one way and a quarter the other. Apparently, this is where the dirt was transferred; an illegal land reclamation. A group of developers thought it would be a good idea to create a housing and holiday village while no-one was looking, through Covid times. The only problem was, it wasn’t government approved, and there is no infrastructure. One road in and out. No sewer or water. Nothing. And now it sits empty, the investors fined a few thousand dollars, the land a vacant lot. An intrusive wasteland.

 

Under the water, the natural reefs are sparsely populated. There is little colour and variation amongst the corals. There are few fish. The water isn’t clear. I don’t know if it’s silty because the sea floor is denuded of grass, or because it’s covered in organic waste, or if something has stirred it up. Some of my fellow divers heard a large boom, felt a reverberation: dynamite fishing. I inwardly shrink when I hear this. No wonder there is so little life. On top of run off from land degradation and warming temperatures, there is mass killing of sea creatures.

 

I looked it up. I read part of the government’s Resource Management Plan. Yes, Coron has a problem. There are too many people struggling to make a living. Forests are cut down. The sea is over-harvested. There isn’t enough infrastructure to support the population. But tourism, conversely, is necessary to steer the economy away from destructive practices towards environmentally friendly ones. It’s a difficult situation.

 

I will leave this place with happy memories of being active in nature. The waterways are still lovely, the wrecks interesting, the tropical climate conducive to fun.

 

But I am also sad. Perhaps the hard words I’ve written will reverberate somewhere where they can help. I don’t know how, but I do know that ignorance is not bliss. It causes more destruction and fear. When we know what the truth is, we can face it and try to fix it. We can find a way.

 

What Coron needs is empathy, generosity, and appreciation. Come to think of it, this is what the whole world needs now, too. Each and every one of us needs to engage with nature and do our own bit to preserve and repair it. Just appreciating it is a start. I hope I’ve helped.

Writing Well

This month’s blog is simply an expression of how I’m feeling about writing right now. Oh, the joy! It feels like my ten years of learning the craft in courses, workshops, and books, plus my six years of writing and re-writing my first novel, have all come together to form a passage through to the end of Draft Seven (a euphemism for Draft Gazillion), also referred to as the Submission Draft.

Finally, I feel like I know what I’m doing. My visualisations of signing a contract, of editing the final manuscript, of beholding a beautiful cover, of holding an actual paper book and seeing it in a bookstore, have all re-emerged. I see myself being interviewed, being introduced as an author, being congratulated on a message well-said. I’m loving it!

So, what has brought me to this point? Enthusiasm for writing, the wonderful people who write, a story that won’t go away, dedication, determination, and resilience. And a year that has so far brought three gifts:

  1. A workshop by Dani Abernathy on The Art of Emotionally Impactful Storytelling (found through the Fiction Writing Made Easy with Savannah Gilbo podcast),
  2. the discovery of Save the Cat! Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody, of which I used the summarised beat sheet, and
  3. Jennifer Marshall, a writing buddy turned book coach who has helped me plot a structure that will keep me on track for a strong character and story arc. Since engaging her services, my writing has taken off and so has my confidence.

Every author I’ve ever listened to has strongly advised having at least one writing buddy. Someone to bounce ideas off, check work with, be motivated by. Jen has understood my novel so intuitively, that it’s like she sees the gold vein in the rock walls. She’s able to extract the message of my story, and the good stuff from my sometimes-dense brain. With her reflecting what I say, problems are getting solved.

In all, I’m on track for submitting my novel to agents and publishers this year, hopefully in the first half. Writing my pitch, synopsis, and cover letter for submission might be my biggest challenge. But now I know I can do it. Light is shining from the end of the tunnel.

Here’s my practise pitch:

The Rest of Their Lives is a heart-warming, contemporary story about three friends facing the challenges common to women in middle-life. It’s about love and loss, hard choices, and self-discovery. Set in Australia, India, and Ireland over the course of a year, these three brave women re-write the next chapters of their lives.

And now, it’s back to work – the joy of writing well.

If any of my writing friends are reading this and thinking they could do with a hand, contact Jen through me. I can’t recommend her enough.

Aussies Celebrate Australia

All Aussies love Australia and feel blessed to be here. We feel like we’re lucky because the land is beautiful, the climate is good, the flora and fauna are wonderfully unique. We feel safe and educated and secure. In all, our great, southern, sunburnt land is the jackpot of all countries to be a citizen of, no matter which end of the lucky-spectrum we fall.

But some Aussies are unhappy about the date our government chose to call Australia Day. That date, the 26th of January, is the date Arthur Phillip put up a British flag and claimed the land uninhabited and Britain’s. Some Aussies mistakenly believe it is the date Captain Cook sailed into Botany Bay. But do we care? Or do we just want to party and yell out to the world that this country is the greatest and we’re so happy to live here?

Mostly, we want to party. We want friends and family and the beach and the barbeque.

So, if the date offends a bunch of Aussies because of what it historically marks, why can’t we just change the date?

For the sake of peace, inclusion and Aussie mateship, is this really too hard?

India and My Soul

In November, I visited India for the fourth time. I’m drawn to the place like a magnet, like my energy is attracted to its, like my soul gets caught on the prevailing wind.

It is a land of fascinating human history, evidence of which can be seen in forts and palaces and temples. Its people are friendly and musical and resourceful. Of course, it has its problems, and like everywhere else in the world, they’re man-made, but sweeping the trash aside, India is a beautiful and exciting place.

Each time I’ve been, I’ve had a mission: the first was to visit the big sights of Rajasthan and South India; the second to do research for my novel-writing; the third to spend nine days in an ashram at a women’s festival focused on saving the planet (with my guru, Liz Gilbert); and this fourth time was twofold – to check out a residential school for disabled kids run by an incredible woman I met at the ashram, and the other, to join a group of writers in a tour aptly called Story Hunters.

The school turned out to be a treat, a happy place where kids were thriving. Kids who had suffered birth trauma, disease, or lack of pregnancy care, who would normally have no opportunity for happiness, were being educated, looking after themselves and each other in a positive environment, playing sport, laughing. I got to hang out with the girls in their common room, having my hands painted with henna, dancing.

The group of writers turned out to be an eclectic bunch of highly creative and deep-thinking women.

Story Hunters was the vision of a man who wanted to connect a bunch of curious, foreign writers with types of Indians who don’t often get to tell their stories.

Travelling with us was a young Indian woman with impressive qualifications who acted as facilitator, herder, and interpreter; a musician who played violin, guitar and wooden flute, who sang and wrote poetry; and an earnest, young videographer and documentary maker with the sweetest of hearts.

We got to meet with:

  • gypsies who live on the edge of the Thar desert, who perform dances, play instruments, and do tricks like pick up razor blades in their eyelids. Their pride and their personal stories of loss have affected me forever.
  • street-sweepers – a mother and daughter-in-law – who were accompanied by a male family member in order to be decorous.
  • a jeweller who broke away from his family’s traditional silver-smithing style to make highly imaginative artworks from metals and gems and fossils. He almost died from Covid, then a great light lifted from his chest, leaving him completely well.
  • a Naga sadhu in Benares (Varanasi) who was once a successful software developer who now devotes his life to attaining enlightenment.
  • a Sufi priest who explained that Sufism is about finding truth, liberation, reality, and love. He spoke eloquently, sang Kabir’s poetry, and played tambourine with dancing hands.
  • a tuk tuk driver in Delhi who turned his life around with the love and support of his wife – a love marriage between a Muslim and a Hindu that survived his drug addiction and imprisonment – becoming an honest business owner, able to put his sons through private school.
  • Hijras – people of the ‘third gender’ – whose personal stories of hardship, ostracism and desire for love broke my heart.

We spent days in India’s last living fort, Jaisalmer, and more by the great, holy Ganges in Varanasi. We visited ancient sites including a 350-year-old Mosque built with the remains of a Hindu temple and the remains of a city, reportedly abandoned 800 years ago. We learned about caste, religion, gurus, Hindu gods, and Diwali. We explored alleyways and danced on the river’s ghats, singing Hindi and Beatles songs with our very own troubadour.

My fourth trip to India turned out to be exceptional. I learned so much that it took weeks to process once I was home in the quiet, open space of Australia.

On reflection, I wonder if the gods play their part in returning me there, time and time again.

Vayu, the guardian of the northwest direction and the Lord of the Winds, may be my universal facilitator. No doubt, I will do this exhilarating journey again and like the much enjoyed roller-coaster of my childhood, I will find myself weeping with pain and blissful with joy. India burns in my heart and like the flame of the diya (the sacred oil lamp), it will remain the light of my soul.

REFERENCE

School for children with a physical disability – SKSN: https://sksn.org/

Story Hunters: https://www.blueswan.events/

Writer’s Journey – https://www.writersjourney.com.au/

A Plea from the Heart: The Referendum 2023

Tomorrow we’re being asked to vote in the Referendum. What a rare privilege we Australians have, being in a democracy where we all get to have a say in any changes to the Constitution (the rules for governing our nation).

What a shame that the original occupants of this land weren’t included like that back in 1901 when it was written. How different things would have been if they had. Mass stealing of children wouldn’t have happened, for one. Back then the aboriginal people weren’t seen as people so therefore, they weren’t relevant – which may be where the problems started.

Right now we’re being given the opportunity to correct the omission of First Nations people from the Constitution. We’re being offered a generous olive branch, a positive step forward. The body of representatives that is proposed to be included in the Parliament is the proposal put forward back in 2017 in the Uluru Statement from the Heart. Eighty percent of all aboriginal people want this. They see it as a step forward, as progress, as a way to express their needs and make proposals as to how those needs might best be met.

It isn’t a threat to non-aboriginals. No one is going to take your house or your family’s farm.

The Voice to Parliament is an advisory body only. Which is why some people say it doesn’t go far enough. But the Voice to Parliament will be able to advise whichever government is in at the time, regardless of their politics. Isn’t that a grand thing? Doesn’t that feel right? And that advice will be proposed by First Nations people themselves, by the people who are talking to all the ‘grass roots’ communities and mobs over this wide land.

The Yes vote is a soft approach. People say it comes from the heart. It does. But even the head can discern that it’s a step towards getting better outcomes for the Aboriginal People. That’s if we don’t let the noise confuse us. The strong, negative language used by the No voters is designed to frighten and divide us. Don’t go there. If you feel afraid, go back to basics. What is the actual proposal? What are the actual words?

Please, if you still don’t know, do your due diligence today.

The following links are basic definitions: not Yes and not No hype.

Referendum 2023 – The Constitution (aec.gov.au)

The Australian Constitution (peo.gov.au)

Voice to Parliament – Reconciliation Australia

If you want to witness a two-sided discussion that’s fair and good, I recommend the latest ABC Q & A. Q+A Live From Adelaide – Q+A (abc.net.au)

I am voting Yes and I’m voting with my heart and my head. My decision comes from a place of love and hope, the very place that the Uluru Statement came from. If you haven’t read it or listened to it, I implore you to do so. It’s enlightening.

View The Statement – Uluru Statement from the Heart.

No means no progress.

Yes means acknowledgement, acceptance and inclusion. Yes means we’re listening. Yes means the Constitution will be complete. And I’m proud to be part of that.