Is this what we are teaching our children?

I recently posted the following on my Facebook page:

In the end, we must strive for our capacity to love to be the thing for which we are remembered, not our capacity to hate and to hurt.

The very next day I was confronted by the news of a shocking image that was posted to twitter. The picture was that of a young boy holding the head of a decapitated soldier.

Is this what we are teaching our children?

Are we allowing them to continue to hate and despise for the simple reason that this is what we have always done? At what point do we say enough is enough? If we wish for future generations to live in peace then we must take the first step. Not just individually but collectively. Every mother, every father, every citizen must make a conscious decision to not allow our children to grow up with hate in their heart.

We need to pass on uplifting ideals, such as tolerance and acceptance. We need to produce future leaders who have sympathy, empathy and compassion. We need to create a world that is free from the hostility, greed and disrespect that is so pervasive in society right now. So I return my thoughts to those I opened with: Do I show my son my capacity for love or do I teach him that hate is normal and to hurt others is ok?

I would like to think that it is the former, rather than the latter. I hope that my son, who is not much older than the boy which was pictured in the image which disturbed me so greatly, grows up to be a well-rounded, generous, caring citizen of the world. Still, my heart weeps for the children of fathers who proudly display such pictures and who fill their childhood with an unbridled hate which I cannot behin to fathom.

I don't want to shed another tear for another child consumed by their parents hate and I don't want my child to shed a tear for another child in a generations time.

Can someone explain to me why I must? Or why my child must?

Because I do not understand at all.

Oh, Captain. My Captain.

Death comes to us all. Some go quickly. Some linger. Some step, unknowing, into the void. And some, for whatever reason, take it upon themselves to decide the method and the timing.

I almost wasn't going to write this. When i woke to the news this morning that one of the greatest actors I had ever had the pleasure of viewing had dies, apparently by his own hand, I vowed that I would not be just another blogger writing about another celebrity death. Yet here I am. Writing.

It's nearly the end of the day as I write this. I've spent most of the day thinking about my own experiences with depression, and the experiences of my friends. I have battle this demon for a long time. Despite the general perception, suicide is not the easy way out. If it were, I wouldn't be here.

Today I can say, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am not depressed. I am most definitely sad, but I am not depressed. This is not to say I am cured. I cannot give assurances for tomorrow, next week, next month or next year. I'm not sure I will ever be cured. To use a medical phrase: Today, I am asymptomatic.

My sadness is, naturally, coloured by my experiences. It stems from an understanding that there, but for the grace of God, go I. And by God, I mean chance or fate or destiny or whatever turn of phrase you choose to employ. My sadness is filled with a fans adoration, a writers admiration and a depressives anticipation of what may, one day, be my own undoing.

I know who would know real loss. His family. His friends. Their loss I cannot know. Their grief I cannot share. This does not make the tears I shed, even as I write this, any less real but they are tears of sadness, not tears of love lost too soon.

Robins battles with alcohol and drugs have been well reported. His battle with depression equally so. The lifelong battle faced by Robin and millions of others worldwide shows one simple fact about depression: It does not discriminate. Age, wealth, location, social standing, friends and family mean little when it comes to depression. You may look at someone and think, 'what have they got to be depressed about, they have everything.' It's never about what you have. It's about how you feel. There lies the irony: Material possessions are immaterial when it comes to mental health.

Being alone isn't so bad. It can be quite nice to be alone with your thoughts. Being lonely is a completely different thing altogether. You can be surrounded by people and still feel totally isolated. Trying to reach someone on the outside can be painful and defeating, but trying to reach someone on the inside of their own mind can be equally terrifying. This doesn't mean you shouldn't try. Each and every day you should try.

Not just big ideas or carefully-chosen words. Every idea has power, no matter how small. Every word has power, no matter how trivial. Tell your partner you love them for no other reason that it's true. Send those birthday wishes to the friend you haven't seen in years. Take those clothes that no longer fit to the op shop. Volunteer an hour of your time to a charity. Just one hour. Pick any charity. And don't be afraid to be exactly who you're meant to be.

Whether it's making a fool out of yourself in front of your kids, helping a friend fulfil their crazy dream, being unique and off the wall and special and crazy and deadly serious and hilarious and a daredevil - keep your spark. Fan it occasionally. Make sure it never goes out.

Robin once said, "I believe in destiny. There must be a reason I am as I am. There must be." I wonder if he every discovered the reason. I wonder how many of us ever do. I think, by nature, we are far more adept at seeing the purpose in other people than we are in seeing it in ourselves.

It's times like this that I wish heaven existed so I could pray for Robin to read this over my shoulder. Not because it's particularly well written or because it speaks to people - neither of these things matter - and not because it would bring him back - it wouldn't. I would want him to read this because for me, the reason he was as he was is crystal clear.

Through all the many laughs, the extraordinary speeches, the tearful goodbyes; through the ups and downs and twists and turns; through the characters we've loved, the stand up routines we've craved and the humanity you've shown: Through all of this the reason shines through - to show me that it's ok to be me.

Rest in peace, my captain. May your legacy be more than you ever dreamed it could be.

If you, or someone you know is suffering from depression or any other mental health issues, please seek help from one of the institutions listed below, or in an emergency call 000.

Beyond Blue

www.beyondblue.org.au

1300 22 4636

Lifeline

www.lifeline.org.au

13 11 14

Kids Help Line

www.kidshelp.com.au

1800 55 1800

Please note: the above relate to Australia organisations, for information on local help centres in your area please contact your GP or go to the World Federation for Mental Health website (www.wfmh.com/links/external-contacts/international-organizations).

A little dose of good news

This morning I woke, as every other morning, to the news of another tragedy that has devastated someones world. It broke my heart to hear of so many innocent lives, full of such promise and potential, cut short by the actions of a small group of war-mongers. I sat, with a tear in my eye, trawling through social media. Each post I saw spoke my own thoughts. They all reflected the anguish, the devastation, the grief and the overwhelming unjustness of it all.

All day, I knew that I would have to write something today. I did not know what I would write. I did not know what form it would take. When the World Trade Centre was attacked, I wrote poetry. I may yet follow that path later, but I could not form the semblance of anything like poetry today.

It was not until a friend lamented the plight of the human race that the idea of what I needed to write came to me. It did not leap at me as some thoughts have done. If crept slowly upon me, like a rising tide, until I could not help but be swept up in the notion.

That glimmer, that ray of hope in midst of almost overpowering darkness, was a small story that made me smile. It made me smile so much my heart ached with the beauty of it. My heart ached so much I cried at the simplicity of it.


Image from http://brazil-football.com

Prior to the recent Football World Cup held in Brazil, German midfielder Mesut Özi sponsored 11 surgeries for children suffering in the underfunded Brazilian health care system. That, in itself, is an amazing act of charity. From someone not even out of their 20s it is an awesome and worthwhile contribution he has made to the lives of those children and their families. Özi wasn't done, though. At the conclusion of the tournament, following his teams victory, he went on to donate a significant portion of his personal winnings to sponsor surgeries for 12 more children.

If you hadn't heard this story before now, don't feel bad. I hadn't either until I went searching for a feel good story and had to wade through page and pages and pages of depressing, gut wrenching, soul destroying news. The fact that this story wasn't headline news is sad, and doesn't surprise me, but maybe we can change how we experience the news that is delivered to us. You're reading this via perhaps the most powerful information dissemination resource known to mankind.

People aren't, on the whole, bad. They are born as a blank slate and their experience of the world shapes them into the adult they become. The fact that TV networks, newspapers, radio stations and the internet persist in filling every waking minute with stories of devastation and violence says just as much about us as it does about the news outlets.

We have the capacity for so much compassion and generosity, not just financial but of spirit, that those feel good stories should be the majority of the news, not a column filler or that last piece after the weather report. If we considered the human race to be a race for each other instead of against each other, the world would be a much safer, happy and fulfilled place to not only exist but to thrive.

Anzac Day 2014

I have never once considered, in all seriousness, joining any of the armed services. The thought of going to war terrifies me. I'm not ashamed to admit that. It's precisely this feeling that makes Anzac Day so momentous to me. The idea that someone I have never me, nor am I likely to meet, feels strongly enough about this country and its citizens that they would put their own life on the line is mind-blowing to me.

I have known people who have served or still serve. Friends, family, former boyfriends. It's not an easy life, for them or for their families, but it's one that people sign up for, not because they have to but because they want to. It may not be volunteering, in the strictest sense of the word. It is a job, after all, but a job that is far bigger and more important than the monetary recompense they receive for doing it.

Yesterday, I had to read The Ode, which is taken from "For the Fallen", a poem by the English poet and writer Laurence Binyon. It is a mere four lines long. As a writer, I try to be eloquent and evoke emotion when and where I can, yet reading those four lines almost had my in tears. Even the process of writing about it brings a tear to my eye, and i haven't even known anyone who was lost in battle. If i had, i would be an absolute wreck.

Today, I was also in tears. Watching the Anzac Day service from Gallipoli made me wish that i had more time to ask my Grandfather about him time in service. I was 9 years old when he died and it didn't occur to me as a child to ask. As a teenager, i was told that he didn't talk about it. I wish I'd had the opportunity to ask.

I can't imagine how hard it must be for vets to talk about what they went through. What they saw and who they lost must weigh heavily upon them. I'm not sure that talking about it or writing their memories or thoughts down would ever convey the extent of the emotions involved but for those of us who have never known the ravages of war first hand, it's the closest we will ever come to knowing and understanding.

So, to my grandfather specifically and all other vets, regardless of what arena your fought in or how long you served, not matter what your role or what reason you enlisted, be proud of your service and never let the memories die with you because your stories are our links with your past and your past shapes our future in ways that you will never know.

Thank you for your service. Thank you for your energy. Thank you for your determination. And thank you for your sacrifice. But mostly, thank you for being our loved ones.

Lest we forget.

On the Rise: Making the step up to the Seniors

In Auskick everyone gets a game, everyone gets a touch. It is a gentle introduction to what can be a harsh sport of which to be part. Life is not so certain when you move up through the ranks and by the time you are looking at the big league, it is a real struggle to make your mark and hold your spot. With each division a player rises through, the transition to the next level is made harder simply by the fact that there are less spots available, more people vying for few key positions, and the hardest move in AFL is stepping up from Reserves to Seniors, from VFL to AFL, from the minor league to the real deal.

There are plenty of great players who may never play in at AFL level. There are plenty more who will only ever play ten games, if that. So just what is it that makes a player ready to step up and, once there, able to keep their spot? Is it just down to that X factor? Is it a combination of skills and attitude that combine to make the player worthy? Is it the team they play for? Is it potluck?

In reality, it is all of those things. You will hear player’s talk of their debut in the Seniors and you will realise that it is not just one aspect that gave them that opportunity. At the new clubs, Gold Coast and Greater Western Sydney, the opportunity is much easier to come by, as there are fewer established players. The same can be said for teams with young lists. As the teams become more stable the opportunity to break through becomes increasingly rare. This is where luck plays a huge role.

Players waiting in the wings of the big league often need to rely on luck to make their debut, whether this is good luck or bad luck depends on who you are. For the Senior player is almost certainly bad luck. They must relinquish their place in the team due to injury or suspension, sometimes even due to off-field drama. For the Reserve Grade player it seems as though lady luck is smiling on them but making the team does not mean the hard work stops. If you rest on you laurels then you are going to lose your place just as quickly as you gained it.

Making that step up to AFL level is something that every player must go though. No one just magically appears in a senior list, even though sometimes it might feel like that from the sidelines. There are those players who make their debut without fanfare. There are others which come in surrounded by all the hype the media outlets can muster. Regardless of this entrance, the path is the same. The on field performance from that debut will set the tone for the rest of their immediate playing future.

If we look at a couple of recent debutants, and one not so recent debutants, from the Sydney Swans in particular, we can see how performance in the reserves is not always an indicator for success in the seniors and how hard it is to maintain your place once you gain selection.

Sydney is one of the most stable teams in the league. This is evident from the number of 100, 200 and 300 game players in the side and from the low number of total players used in a given season. It prides itself on maintaining a core of players who work well together and follow the old adage of "if it ain't broke, don't fix it". This makes gaining selection for the reserves players very difficult. They really need to show something extra special in their reserve grade games to even be considered. The success of a senior side can have a two-fold effect. It can lift the reserve grade players as they know that a higher standard is being set. It can also lift the senior team as they don't want to lose their place in the team to these up and coming players. The depth this creates can be terrific. Having multiple back ups for almost every key position and having game plans which don't rely solely on individual players makes for a strong team, and a strong team makes for some interesting and spectacular debuts.

 Photo Courtesy of Matthew G Moses

Dane Rampe is Sydney born and bred. He is not a traditional footballer. He had a background in basketball and soccer before swapping to AFL. A move to Victoria for play in the VFL and a trial with the Western bulldogs did not pan out for the young player but when he moved back to Sydney, the team he loved saw something in him. He played in the Swans reserves during 2012 and impressed the coaching staff with his maturity, both of mind and of play, but there was also something else that impressed them. Athletic ability - being able to kick, handball, mark, tackle and run - will only get you so far. What the Sydney selectors were looking for wasn't simply a good footballer. These are a dime a dozen. They were looking for a particular attitude to suit a particular culture.

The culture at Sydney is well documented. It is about the team first and foremost, and being a team player is something the Swans strive to achieve in all their players, whether they are debutants or 300-game Brownlow Medallists. Rampe showed in his time in the Reserves that he had this attitude. He put in the hard yards physically yet he was able to draw from deep inside a tenacity that shone through and a cohesiveness with his fellow players that instilled confidence in his teammates and his coaches. While natural talent got his foot in the door, hard work has given him a key; and while luck may have played a part in opening up a spot in the Seniors, it was having that something special that has kept Rampe in his position for the majority of this season.

Photo Courtesy of Matthew G Moses

Another debutant, Tom Mitchell, came to the Swans in completely different manner. Being drafted under the father-son rule can add significant pressure to a young player. For some it can overwhelm them and they fade into obscurity. For others, like Mitchell, their debut is nothing short of spectacular. Indeed, Mitchell came away with 18 disposals, 6 tackles, 3 goal assists and a goal of his own in his first senior game, but backing up after a breakout game such as that can also be tough. Not if you're Tom Mitchell, it seems. His second game earned him a Rising Star nomination. Perhaps the Bloods culture is more than skin deep. Perhaps it courses through the veins of the players and is handed down from one generation to the next. Perhaps it is simply knowing what is expected well in advance and not being afraid to live up to that lofty expectation.

Mitchell's debut was not without its challenges. An injury plagued 2012 meant a prolonged stint in the Reserves before making his debut. Even then, he began as the sub, not an uncommon way to make a debut since its inception. Normally a sub would look to play a quarter, maybe a half of footy. Luck stepped in and Mitchell took to the field for nearly three quarters on debut after an unlucky Tommy Walsh went down with a torn hamstring. Had he not been on the field for such a protracted amount of time, perhaps his debut would not have been as spectacular as it was, but football is all about taking opportunities when they are presented to you and if a player wants to stay in the Senior side, they have to prove they deserve to be there by fitting in seamlessly with the established players while still making their own mark. It is a balancing act that can pay awesome dividends when the players get it right.

The path to the top is never easy, no matter how it might seem from the outside looking in, and for some players it comes harder than others. There are players who show such promise yet never quite live up to the expectation placed on their shoulders. There are others who just need a little more nurturing. Ever sat on the sidelines, watched your team, and wondered, "why do they keeping picking him, he's terrible?" That's the player. The player who has that dreaded P word - potential. There are plenty of them in the AFL. Sydney's own Jesse White is probably one of the best examples.

Photo Courtesy of Matthew G Moses

 

White made his debut in 2008. Since then he has played 62 games for the Swans at a senior level but, until this year, seemed unable to replicate the spectacular form he has displayed in the Reserves despite earning the clubs Rising Star award in 2009. White became known as a fringe player: better than the average reserve grade player yet somehow not quite cutting it with the seniors. Flashes here and there whet the appetite but how long can a senior career be sustained by glimpses of brilliance? Jesse's talent was always there, it was just a matter of unearthing it. An unsuccessful trade to Adelaide may have been the catalyst for him. Whether the improvement would have happened regardless is pure conjecture though there are many who would say this is the case. The faith of the senior staff has paid off and White is playing some of the best football of his career.

In the end, there is no hard and fast rule, no defined path to follow, when making the move from reserve grade to seniors. Jed Lamb credits a trip to Burma with giving him a new perspective on life. Tom Mitchell says that working together with the coaches and having a strong knowledge of positional work is vital. Dane Rampe thinks that building relationships with your teammates is one of the keys. What comes through, when talking to the young players at the Swans is that, while their debut is a proud moment in their football career, the result of the game is about the team, they play for the team and win for the team, and their debut is celebrated by the team.

Maybe that is the ultimate factor in the success of any player: being welcomed into the team, as a friend and colleague, by the established players and staff. A team that works for each other, celebrates the milestones together, holds it's debutants and it's veterans to the same exacting standard and creates an atmosphere of reward for effort not only creates successful top tier players, it creates successful people.

Whatever the reason for great players, whatever tips them over the edge into superstardom, whatever challenges they overcome - there is something special about AFL players at a senior level. The tempo of the game rises. The media frenzy steps up a notch. The expectations increase exponentially. All that hard work; all that dedication; all that self-belief. When all of it has been put to the test and when all of it is still there, better than ever, that's when the magic happens and that's when those debutants become part of the fabric of a club.

The Right Side of History: Marriage equality for all not just some

As I write this, my country that I love is, unfortunately, on the wrong side of history. If you don't know what I'm talking about, this is the catchphrase that is being used by the same sex marriage lobby to encourage goverments to change legislation before the rest of the world and being labelled as reactionary instead of proactive.

I've written a previous blog about my feelings towards homosexuality. In case you haven't read it or haven't realised ... I'm not but I have no problem with it.

This blog entry is not about how I feel about other peoples sexuality. This blog is about the institution of marriage. This blog is about equality. This blog is about choice.

I heard someone on the television today talking about how legalising same sex marriage would be akin to the stolen generation. For overseas readers, the stolen generation is a period of Australian history in which Aboriginal children were removed from their parents and placed into white families, the misguided belief being that they were better off (socially, economically, emotionally) in this new environment. This man's arguement was that same sex couple could not raise a child and give it the same loving, stable environment as a heterosexual couple; he trotted out the old chestnut that a child needs a mother AND a father to develop normally.

He equated same sex couples rearing children that may not be biologically their own with the stolen generation in which children were taken, sometimes forcefully from their loving parents. He went on to say that children should not be separated from their biological parents. I challenge him to tell any straight couple who have struggled to concieve a child that they are doing the wrong thing by that child because they have taken it from its biological parent (even though the biological parent may have given up the child for adoption or may have donated eggs and/or sperm). I'm not sure that this situation is any different from a same sex couple gaining a child through adoption, IVF or surrogacy.

But before all of that, I don't believe that marriage has anything to do with children these days. Once upon a time, and in the not too distant past, it certainly was inextricably linked. Today, married or not, you can have a child. With IVF, adoption and surrogacy all viable options there is no reason why one or two loving people of either sex can't have a child if they want one. Marriage is, and should be, about two people who love each other making a declaration of that love in an official capacity.

People always fall back on religion when it comes to marriage. The bible says that marriage is between a man and a woman. The bible alwo says that a woman should be a virgin when married. The bible says that if a woman is raped she is duty bound to marry her rapist or bring shame on her family for having sex outside of the marriage. The bible says we should stone people to death for adultery. The bible is against divorce. The bible says that marriage is a business transaction and that a woman's worth is measured in cows or tracts of land. The other thing people say is that we can't redefine marriage. Well, by the above standards, we have already redefined marriage.

It is illegal to discriminate against someone because of their gender or sexuality. In employing someone it is illegal to deny anyone a job based on who they sleep with in the privacy of their own home. In serving people in a shop it is illegal to deny anyone serviced based on their sexual preference. Equal rights, however, do not extend to marriage.

Marriage is the last bastian of the heterosexual. Why? What is it about marriage that makes being a homosexual unfit to partake?

 

Gay men are allowed to vote. Lesbians are allowed to hold positions of power. Yet marriage is somehow off limits? What is wrong with our society that we have people who still think that two people who love each other are committing a sin? Two consenting adults in a loving, committed relationship can't be a bad thing.

I love the photos and pictures that appear on the internet about same sex marriage. Some of them I have posted on this blog. It's important to keep a sense of humour in situations such as this. After all, most of the arguements against same sex marriage are laughable so why not?

Not fighting the tears ... ANZAC Day 2013

 

ANZAC Day. For any Australian it conjures up images of mud-stained diggers, slouch hats and Gallipoli, but it is so much more than those fragmented images. I'm not sure that there are any words or images which can truly do justice to what this day means not only to our country as a whole but to every single individual citizen who stands shoulder to shoulder with their fellow man to remember the times of hardship that gave us the freedoms we now enjoy.

 

 

ANZAC Day is celebrated on April 25th, the anniversary of the landing at Gallipoli in 1915.

 

Nearly 9,000 Australians and nearly 3,000 New Zealanders lost their lives in the campaign that lasted until 9th January, 1916.

 

A further 24,000 combined ANZAC troops were injured.

 

In population of approximately only 6,000,000 people in both Australia and New Zealand, 36,000 casualties of war is a significant number in a campaign that lasted less than a year.

 

In total over 60,000 Australian troops lost their lives during World War I.

Nearly 40,000 were lost in World War II.

Since then a further 2,000 troops have given their lives.

 

ANZAC Day commemorates not only those who died during that fateful campaign in Gallipoli. It commemorates all casualties of war. It commemorates all who have served; it commemorates all who currently serve; and it commemorates all who will serve.

 

 

"This is not a day of celebration but of national memory. It is a day when we learn, and learn again, of the horror of purposeless war. It is a day for looking after your mates, cherishing your home, your neighbourhood and family ... It's a day for realising how rare this wonderful country of ours is and how precious it is." Bob Carr, Minister for Foreign Affairs (2012 - date)

 

Australia has, time and time again, stood taller than statistics say it should have been able to. It has sacrificed more than it should ever have to. More families have lost sons and daughters than should need to. More brave soldiers have returned broken by things they should never have to see or experience.

 

The liberties we enjoy, the freedoms we all too often take for granted, are gifted us by the monumental sacrifices of those who have gone before us. Troops far outnumbered, holding the line. Fighter pilots reaching their targets against tremendous odds. Naval commanders outmanoeuvring far superior fleets. Today we thank those mates and neighbours who braved the elements, those family and strangers who were courageous under fire; those leaders who made those impossible decisions that none of us should ever have to make.

 

 

"The ANZAC spirit runs through todays Australians. We see it, of course, in our forces. But we also see it, every day, in our rural, remote and urban communities. Australians are coming together to mark ANZAC Day, to honour the loss of precious life, to ponder the gift of service." Quentin Bryce, Governor-General of Australia (2008 - date)

 

The ANZAC spirit is an oft talked about feature of what it means to be Australian. it encompasses the battle-worthy qualities of endurance and courage as well as those qualities needed in order to survive not just physically but mentally, including ingenuity, good humour, larrikinism, and mateship. These qualities are not reserved for that minority who take up arms in order that the majority need not. These qualities are within every single Australian.

 

Every day, Australians band together to help those who are less fortunate, those who have experienced hardship, those who are struggling for whatever reason. Every day, we see those efforts and rarely are they rewarded but none are done for reward, or even recognition. Those efforts are made because it is what is right. It is what should be done. It is what needs to be done.

 

 

As I have written this piece, I have struggled with what words to use, what images to conjure. There are many traditional images I have used throughout this post - the rising sun, red poppies, the war memorial, the Australian flag, the grave of the unknown soldier - but perhaps the most powerful image I could ever leave you with is not something I can see. It is that which your own mind brings forward. It is that which is in your heart and in your soul. It is that which is stronger than any picture on any screen, and more relevant and more personal than any blog entry I could write.

 

I have shed more than a few tears as the words have flown but more tears will fall as I write the closing lines. It is the Ode of Remembrance, taken from Laurence Binyon's poem, "For the Fallen".

 

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.

Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.

They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,

They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them.

Lest we forget.