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Backyard projects

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Sooooooo, a lot has happened. I want to start diarising again.

I now am fairly confident and secure in my identity.

Whew.

I am a queer Demigirl, Intersectional environmentalist feminist, AuDHDer, humbled to be living on Gungardie, home of Guugu Yimithirr, sovereignty never ceded.

I am sole parent warrior to a blak 8 year old soul AuDHDer, who is bravely discovering their own identity and what that means for them.

I am striving to achieve balance, in my internal world and in the world at large.

I feel intensely passionate about equal rights, for all who require to share this galaxy, and to keep the balance right in the universe as a whole.

It is so incredibly relieving to understand myself better. This does not mean I do not struggle.

Unlocking my life has also made me understand that emotions can be overwhelming, and holding emotion and trauma in the body can make you feel horrible, for very very long periods of time.

But I am willing to feel the emotions. I need to understand them and sit with them, whilst also learning how to release them.

Slowly, slowly, small changes slowly. For all of you who know me you will know this isn't who I am.

Until next time

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feeling alive

for the first time

in a long time

my heart soars

into stars

bursting

where did we come from

where are we going

the possibilities are endless

still so much we do not know

and that is cause for celebration

life, after all, is for learning

for discovery

for excitement

for joy

for sadness

anger

heartache

sorrow

laughter 

anxiety

apprehension

i want it all

i want to experience it now

i want to let go and live

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I woke up today and I felt the wind

Like an ocean flowing over me

My soul at ease

Funny, this feeling

It's peace, I think.

I am fairly certain

My mind rests

My worries are few

My heart is full of love and joy

I don't know what this is

I do know, though

That I need to give thanks

I gotta give thanks

I am so thankful, so deeply grateful

My life is rich.

Rich with souls and love.

I give back where I can.

My son is an amazement to me.

He can do anything he fixates on.

My son has taught me that I can learn new things

I like to scoot!

He likes to climb.

He is so funny, so smart.

His real talent, though, is manipulation.

He knows how to twist a situation to his favour.

And he can lie with the straightest face.

Love him more than the whole world.

So, somehow we got Chill.

I thought I was just reluctantly accepting a pup that would end up rehomed.

Never in my life did I think I could fall in love with a dog. But I did! Chill is my buddy in crime and sooooooo lives up to his name. My adorable.

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It's been 5 weeks and 1 day since I first felt your presence. 13 days since I let you go. Such a short time that I knew you, only 23 days. That was 23 days of me desperately wanting you, so excited to know of you.

I hope you forgive me for what I have done. I don't think I will ever forgive myself. I am not sure that my heart will ever heal from losing you. I miss your presence inside of me.

I hope you come back to me some day.

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It's been a crazy year. For so many reasons. I am finally able to slow down and stop, and I find myself doing the same old same old... One foot out the door. I think, though, this time I might pull my foot back in. It's a nice feeling, getting an opportunity to put some roots down and commit to something bigger than myself (and Eamon, but hey, I never really had a choice about Eamon, let's be honest).

I feel a strong affinity to the land, but even more so I feel connected to the moon, and the wind. The wind calls me. It lifts my spirit and sings to me. I feel like I am part of something magical, it is magical. Fairly sure I am a Wicken.

Thinking back to all the things I have done before, and how I constantly push myself into things. I am striving for flow, to allow things to manifest naturally, to unfold and be at peace.

That does not mean I will not take a stand. No. Now, more than ever I must take a stand. Now I can really commit to striving to right so many perpetual wrongdoings that exist within society.

By that I must acknowledge my own wrongdoings, and my privilege. What opportunities and safety I have experienced due to my upbringing and the colour of my skin, my place of birth and the wealth I have been afforded in life. My gender identity manifests as a shield against discrimination where others are not afforded the same rights.

I acknowledge that my ancestors invaded the land upon which I was born. Land which had been stolen, native peoples massacred and their history erased, the land permanently altered with clearing, modern farming and the introduction of non native flora and fauna. A people who lived in harmony with their surroundings for 100,000 years minimum, as new evidence has shown.

What does all this mean for how I am to classify myself? Invasionist? Indigenous (as I, too, was born on this land)? Somewhere in between?

I think that the point is, unless others can afford the same rights as I can, by pure virtue of being me, being white, and being born into a situation where I was loved, fed, clothed, and kept sheltered, encouraged to foster my interests and to always learn with an open mind, any broad classification will not do.

So I strive for a day where I can beg to be a proud member of Indigenous Australians who share the same rights, across the board, and who are safe from persecution and violence, based purely on the circumstances to which they were born. We can surely achieve this.

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On passion

I'm fiery. And fiesty. I love to love, and man do I love to hate. I especially live to assign blame. Lately life has been pretty good to me. But, of course, we always look for what we don't have. It doesn't help that my natural urges are pushing me to yearn for certain things.... And now I see possible solutions every where! The other day I was watching a basketball game and found myself obsessing over the coach.... He was fair, kind and spent a great deal of time entertaining Eamon in the half time break. He seemed pretty down to earth, and well, I guess that's all I need. I also spent the weekend observing Missy Higgins in her family life, as we wandered around at Barunga festival. It was a good weekend, but being that close to a well-known figure to understand intricacies of her day to day life was truly bizarre. Her life seems so normal. Which is great, but also weird in a way. I'm really ready to invite a bigger family into my life, but for the life of me am not sure how to go about it. Thoughts?

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I'm a dreamer. Except I don't know my own dream. I guess I dream of being different, something completely new, some whole new type of being that has never existed before. Oh, sure, I've had tangible, solid dreams before. When I was little I wanted to be a famous actress, and travel the world as a star, people throwing roses at my feet. As I grew anthropology beckoned, as I found the study of other's so facinating. Jowever, I could never quite keep myself at arms lengrh, I had to join in. In university I dreamed of being a philanthropic cardiac surgeon, renowned in the medical world. When I traveled I dreamed of being a writer, that others would pay to hear what I'd said, and beg me for more. Now? I guess the narcissist I am still wants to be remembered, and recognized. But more than that. I want to do something, achieve something, change something. I want to be inspired.

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A little on a lot

I am so filled with thoughts at the moment. They’re buzzing around in my head, wanting to come out, but I am not quite able to adequately express them.

Right now I am more settled than I have ever been. I am growing and changing, morphing and reshaping, moulding myself with each additional piece of information I gather, into a better version of me.

I have made so many, many mistakes. And I want to come clean about them.

Some of them you will not forgive me for. Hell, I cannot forgive myself for them.

But I hold out hope that in honesty comes redemption, and that people can learn from my mistakes.

In my late adolescence and early twenties I was an insecure wreck. I drank too much, I gave the time of day to too many people who used and abused me for my frivolity, with both my mind and my body, and I just didn’t value myself.

I used to drive whilst under the influence, not just once but all the time, for a long period of time. I got caught and sentenced not once, but twice - and I should have gone to jail except for a loophole in the justice system.

I woke up to myself, too late to take back my mistakes but thankfully before anyone was really hurt by my actions.

But I have hurt people. I have bullied people, I can be manipulative and coerce others into getting my way.

I have dumped on people, and expected them to clean up my messes. My dramatic nature has made it difficult for other people to be around me.

I pushed loving people away, and messed around with people’s hearts.

I have spent a lot of time and energy on speculation, gossip - at the expense of others on things I knew little about.

i have reached a point now where I am done with lying to myself, I am done with lying to others or to the world.

I cannot strut around pretending to be a pariah when I am not such a great role model.

I recognize that I work in a field that people look up to and I want to live up to that role, as best I can.

In this tumultuous climate of life we find ourselves in I am trying to find my way.

I think of a number of quotes, said well by people who are much better at eloquent speech than I. Here they are.

“He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.” Martin Luther King, Jr.

“One word frees us, of all the weight and pain of life. That word is love” Sophocles

“I have decided to stick to love: hate is too great a burden to bear.” MLK Jr

“To trust God in the light is nothing, but to trust him in the dark - that is faith.” C.H Spurgeon

“I just wanna go on more adventures. Be around good energy. Connect with people. Learn new things. Grow.” Thekhoolhaus

“Intoxicated people, children, and leggings always tell the truth.”

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you” Maya Angelou

“Be kind to all creatures. This is the true religion.” Buddha

“Always go with the choice that scares you the most, because that’s the one that is going to help you grow”. Caroline Myss

“Kindness is a language the blind can see and the deaf can hear”. Mark Twain

“When a flower doesn’t bloom, you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower”. Alexander Den Heijer

“Truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it”. Flannery O’Connor

“You cannot control the actions of others”.

“Be truthful, gentle, and fearless.” Gandhi

“If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything”. Mark Twain

“He said, ‘there are only two days in the year that nothing can be done. One is called yesterday and the other is called tomorrow, so today is the right day to love, believe, do and mostly live.” Dalai Lama

“Freedom always follows truth”.

“What’s done cannot be undone.” William Shakespeare

“We can’t help everyone, but everyone can help someone”. Ronald Reagan

“If you always do what you always did, you will always get what you always got.” Albert Einstein

“Justice is doing for others what we would want done for ourselves.” Gary Haugen

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” MLK Jr

And finally, from my personal inspiration and role model, Constance Hall: “Be a Queen”

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Not my original post

This is an amazing post. I need to remind myself of it. It is from a blogger Tim Urban at waitbutwhy.com. It is NOT my original work. But I love it, and I never want to forget it.

Here it is:

In a post last year, we laid out the human lifespan visually. By years:

By months:

And by weeks:

While working on that post, I also made a days chart, but it seemed a bit much, so I left it out. But fuck it.

The days chart blows my mind as much as the weeks chart. Each of those dots is only a single Tuesday or Friday or Sunday, but even a lucky person who lives to 90 will have no problem fitting every day in their life on one sheet of paper.

But since doing the Life in Weeks post, I’ve been thinking about something else.

Instead of measuring your life in units of time, you can measure it in activities or events. To use myself as an example:

I’m 34, so let’s be super optimistic and say I’ll be hanging around drawing stick figures till I’m 90.1 If so, I have a little under 60 winters left:

And maybe around 60 Superbowls left:

The ocean is freezing and putting my body into it is a bad life experience, so I tend to limit myself to around one ocean swim a year. So as weird as it seems, I might only go in the ocean 60 more times:

Not counting Wait But Why research, I read about five books a year, so even though it feels like I’ll read an endless number of books in the future, I actually have to choose only 300 of all the books out there to read and accept that I’ll sign off for eternity without knowing what goes on in all the rest.

Growing up in Boston, I went to Red Sox games all the time, but if I never move back there, I’ll probably continue at my current rate of going to a Sox game about once every three years—meaning this little row of 20 represents my remaining Fenway visits:

There have been eight US presidential elections during my lifetime and about 15 to go. I’ve seen five presidents in office and if that rate continues, I’ll see about nine more.

I probably eat pizza about once a month, so I’ve got about 700 more chances to eat pizza. I have an even brighter future with dumplings. I have Chinese food about twice a month and I tend to make sure six dumplings occurs each time, so I have a fuckton of dumplings to look forward to:

But these things aren’t what I’ve been thinking about. Most of the things I just mentioned happen with a similar frequency during each year of my life, which spreads them out somewhat evenly through time. If I’m around a third of my way through life, I’m also about a third of my way through experiencing the activity or event.

What I’ve been thinking about is a really important part of life that, unlike all of these examples, isn’t spread out evenly through time—something whose [already done / still to come] ratio doesn’t at all align with how far I am through life:

Relationships.

I’ve been thinking about my parents, who are in their mid-60s. During my first 18 years, I spent some time with my parents during at least 90% of my days. But since heading off to college and then later moving out of Boston, I’ve probably seen them an average of only five times a year each, for an average of maybe two days each time. 10 days a year. About 3% of the days I spent with them each year of my childhood.

Being in their mid-60s, let’s continue to be super optimistic and say I’m one of the incredibly lucky people to have both parents alive into my 60s. That would give us about 30 more years of coexistence. If the ten days a year thing holds, that’s 300 days left to hang with mom and dad. Less time than I spent with them in any one of my 18 childhood years.

When you look at that reality, you realize that despite not being at the end of your life, you may very well be nearing the end of your time with some of the most important people in your life. If I lay out the total days I’ll ever spend with each of my parents—assuming I’m as lucky as can be—this becomes starkly clear:

It turns out that when I graduated from high school, I had already used up 93% of my in-person parent time. I’m now enjoying the last 5% of that time. We’re in the tail end.

It’s a similar story with my two sisters. After living in a house with them for 10 and 13 years respectively, I now live across the country from both of them and spend maybe 15 days with each of them a year. Hopefully, that leaves us with about 15% of our total hangout time left.

The same often goes for old friends. In high school, I sat around playing hearts with the same four guys about five days a week. In four years, we probably racked up 700 group hangouts. Now, scattered around the country with totally different lives and schedules, the five of us are in the same room at the same time probably 10 days each decade. The group is in its final 7%.

So what do we do with this information?

Setting aside my secret hope that technological advances will let me live to 700, I see three takeaways here:

1) Living in the same place as the people you love matters. I probably have 10X the time left with the people who live in my city as I do with the people who live somewhere else.

2) Priorities matter. Your remaining face time with any person depends largely on where that person falls on your list of life priorities. Make sure this list is set by you—not by unconscious inertia.

3) Quality time matters. If you’re in your last 10% of time with someone you love, keep that fact in the front of your mind when you’re with them and treat that time as what it actually is: precious.

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Uh, something about the Universe?

So, lately i have been stressed. At work, in the “patient history” section we would write, under the heading “social”: multiple stressors +++.

That’s me. I would say stress ++++++++++++++.

Work stress. Mummy stress. Parental stress. Exercise (lack thereof) stress. Free time stress. Love life stress. Etcetera etcetera...

So, when I found out on Friday (post hectic night shift) that my upskilling position in Darwin was not what I thought it would be, what did it cause me? Stress.

But then I thought. Hang on.....

Maybe this is meant to be.

Maybe I am meant to relax.

I mean, really relax.

What’s the big deal any way? It’s only 3 months, it’s only work.

My son is 2 and a half now, and he has turned into this walking encyclopaedia of toddler, all about the animals and the birds and the trucks and the trees and the food and the dragonflies.

I have made a decision, easiest one of my life.

3 months with my son. Then back into training, hopefully with less stress as I. Am. Never. Working. Full. Time. Again.

That is all.

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On bad news...

Sometimes in life you get information that, while you might have been anticipating it, it still floors you when you finally receive it. Like a sucker punch right under the ribs. You fall to the floor, gasping for air, wondering how you took your lungs for granted all that time.

But the other part of you, your processing centre at the front of your mind, takes a sigh of relief. The anxiety that had been knawing away at you, eating into your free time, starts to dissipate.

Honesty truly is the best policy. And waiting to deliver bad news, the type that you know needs to be mailed, preferably in person, or whatever is the next best option, well, that is just cruel.

Now that I have received the news I was dreading, I am winded but I will get up again. And my mind will be clear to stay focused in the present moment, to smile and play with my son.

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2016, and the state of the world

This year, I am really feeling settled. I feel the ideas that sprouted as seedlings in my mind during my first overseas expeditions are growing. I can see them solidifying and taking form. I can also see my own personal philosophy taking place. 

 I love my life. I particularly love the openness and willingness for the new and unexpected that has come to me as a result of trial and error. I have finally been able to recognise that no soul is truly evil, everyone is just trying to do the best they can in their situation. 

 I am so in awe of my son. He is a spirit I can't quite believe that I had a part in creating, I choose to believe instead that he was sent to me briefly to remind me to not take life so seriously, to live in the moment, to relax and stop being so stressed out about things. 

 If I can take the time, each one of my patients has a message that they need to share. Their stories are important, and need to be heard, and respected. I so undervalued respect of others in so many ways, for so long. 

 Given all this, I find the current Western medical system to be obselete. This constant ordering about of patients, the 12 month employment contracts, the long term planning ahead of our short short lives.... In no way does this produce useful medical practitioners at the end of it all, assuming it doesn't all end with an early slide into the grave... 

 No, I want more from life. I want to wake up each day and not be certain of my outcome. I don't want to have to plan each and every year of my life. I want to free my son, by being truly free myself. And I want to know people's stories. 

What's your story?

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Hazel M. Miller of Puerto Viejo

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Hazel M. Miller a.k.a “Miss Sam”

I am skipping far ahead on my travel blog, however recently I met such an incredible woman that I have not been able to get out of my mind.

Eamon and I were in San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua. It was T minus 12 days until our flight to Chile. I was getting sick of being on the road, especially because I had this niggling feeling that this constant travel wasn’t allowing Eamon to chill out and have fun in one place. I wanted to get somewhere relaxing and child-friendly. that wasn’t far from our flight, to rest. Tortuguero (Costa Rica) had been on the cards, but was not possible to get to in one day so I decided against it. We headed for Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica.

Waking up at 5am, we headed for the bus to Rivas, which I discovered was not due for another 30 minutes and as such we decided to go in colectivo taxi to La Virgen, which is on the road to the Nicaragua/Costa Rica border. After a 10 minute wait, an international bus pulled up and was willing to take us to San Jose for $29 USD. We hopped in and relaxed in the airconditioning. Border stops followed, as per usual, which proceeded with ease. Everyone on the bus enjoyed Eamon’s invasion of the luggage compartment, which he didn’t even want to leave when we locked him inside, in pitch black darkness.

On the lunch stop I got to talking with a trio who informed me they were returning to Puerto Viejo, where they live, after attending a funeral in Bluefields, Nicaragua. This is quite a hefty trip by road, even though the two coastal towns are not so far from each other. I felt sorry for them, especially for the elderly woman who was now 40 hours into a trip, still with a long way to go. I informed them that I planned to head to PV, and they reassured me that we would get in before dark.

Unfortunately, the bus was delayed by 40 minutes and we arrived 10 minutes after the 2pm bus to PV had already left. The next bus wasn’t until 4pm, and with the journey being at least 4.5 hours, I was reluctant to get in so late. I turned to the trio I had previously met, who suggested we take a bus to Limon, then change for PV. We hopped in a taxi and headed to the other station. We were again disappointed to discover that the next available bus was at 3:30pm. We purchased tickets and then I went about buying some food for the journey. We eventually got on the bus, however there was a palette truck that had tipped on the road and we were delayed 2 hours en route. We missed the last bus to PV from Limon. I was a bit worried, but the trio from PV again approached me and informed me they would not stay in Limon, they have a driver who would come to get them. I was very lucky to have met them. They were Becky, his sister (unfortunately I have forgotten her name) and their great-aunt Miss Sam.

We eventually arrived in Limon, around 8pm, and the driver was already waiting. I got into the car with the others, feeling pretty guilty for not having arranged the trip better. I told them where I planned to stay, but was cut off at the beat by Miss Sam, who said, 

  “No, you will stay with me. You can sort out your accommodation in the light of day“.

I didn’t want to say it, but I was really relieved. I felt very comfortable in the presence of these three good samaritans, and kept proffering to help them out in any way, if I could give some money... I was refused point-blank, with each member explaining that it is very important to pay it forward, they hope that I would do the same.

We arrived in PV after a 45 minute trip, and Eamon then woke from his slumber, well-rested. Entering my host’s house, I was introduced to her daughter Siannie, and her great-grandson. Siannie took us in without even an odd glance, as if it is every other day that her mother arrives late at night, with a stranger in tow. She cleared out the spare room, and cooked us a meal. I felt very welcome, even at home.

From the very beginning Miss Sam was keen to chat. She began to tell me her story, in dribs and drabs until I was able to put the entire puzzle together.

“I put him in the world”. She explained that she was the first midwife in Puerto Viejo.

“I have many houses”. After working and saving for many years, she has been able to live off the rental income of her various properties.

“Miss Sam is not my name. It is my husband’s name”. Her real name is Hazel M. Miller, who married her first husband Sam after he came to her home of Bluefields to search for a wife. She was at first reluctant to go with him, as he did not appeal to her. He returned to Puerto Viejo without her, then sent fare for her to travel. She took a chance and moved to Puerto Viejo. “I have been here since 1956″. People took to calling her Miss Sam after she married her husband, and she became so well-known within the community that not only did they continue to call her that after her husband died, but when she remarried they began to call her second husband (whose name was David) Mr Sam.

That first morning, when I awoke well-rested, I explored my surroundings in the light of day. Miss Sam’s house is filled with memories - pictures of grand and great-grandchildren; awards, funeral notices, travel mementos, knickknacks - it reminded my of my grandmother’s house. The backyard was green and lush, with connecting gates to the houses at either side, the golden labrador resting in the morning sunlight.

Miss Sam awoke shortly after I, and her first question was

“You want coffee?”

I was only too happy to nod in the affirmative. She managed to deal up some scrambled eggs for us to feast on, and then said

“If you have washing use the machine.”

I swear, this was the happiest I had been since arriving in Mexico. You never appreciate a washing machine until you wash your child’s dirty nappies by hand each day, and rely on sunlight to dry them (Central America is in the middle of a monsoon right now).

After my clothes were washed, dried and packed away, and the breakfast (and lunch) that Miss Sam had prepared us was safely in our bellies, dishes washed and put away, I thanked my host and prepared to leave to find our accommodation. Again, I was told to wait and Miss Sam prepared to accompany me in a tour of her beautiful village. When she saw I was lugging my suitcase she inquired as to why. I mentioned that I was under the impression that I was to find a place that day, but Miss Sam wouldn’t hear of it.

“You will stay here.” And so I did.

Miss Sam has had her highs and lows. When she met her first husband, she had a son from a previous relationship. He traveled with her to PV, however unfortunately he died at the age of 15 from an accident. She had 4 children from her first marriage, 2 are still alive in Puerto Viejo - her eldest daughter runs a successful soda in town, her eldest son a fisherman. One of her sons died as a toddler from an infection, and her daughter of a heart attack “when she was fully grown, and had already had her children”.

She has 2 children from her second marriage, Eric and Siannie. Eric is a property manager, and is quite successful. He has 2 children. Siannie is a midwife and obstetric nurse, who had a dream to work at the local clinic in her role, and has been able to make that dream a reality. She is very stoic and really believes in the importance of giving back to the community, and to those who put her there - she regularly takes her mother on vacations.

“I have traveled, oh yes”, Miss Sam informs me. “My daughter and I, we go to Panama, Belize, Jamaica, we have traveled.”

After her second husband died, Miss Sam decided to shut her soda (she ran one of the most popular soda’s in town for many years, in the property she owned next to her house) and live off the rental income of her properties. She is fiercely independent, and still works tirelessly.

As I explored Puerto Viejo I met many people, each one of them curious about myself and my little boy. When they discovered I was staying with Miss Sam, they raved about her. There is not a person in town who doesn’t have a kind word to say about her.

I would return to the house at the end of each day, to find my host sitting out on the porch, greeting each passerby in turn, often chewing the fat with the many people who would stop at the house, either to pay rent, or to visit, or just in passing. If I mentioned that I had met someone who spoke of her, she would say

“Oh yes, everyone knows me here.”

Miss Sam loved to play with Eamon, and comment on his activities

“He works hard, that boy...... That boy, he love to swim.....”

After 5 days of luxury in Puerto Viejo, it was time to move on to Bocas del Toro, Panama. It was hard to say goodbye to such a wonderful woman. Meeting Hazel “Miss Sam” Miller has reminded me of why I love travel so much.

Before I wrote this blog, I googled “Miss Sam” and “Hazel Miller” Puerto Viejo, and was not at all surprised to discover that I am not the first to write about her. I have attached the links of the other articles that I found. As her daughter Siannie says,

“My mother has always taken in those people who missed their bus, or who look lost. She never worries about the dangers, and I like to try and take this as an example”. I hope to do the same.

http://www.nacion.com/ocio/cine/Hazel-Miller-emprendedora-partera-Caribe_0_1363263692.html

http://www.billbeardcostarica.com/php/newsletter_notes.php?id_home=35&id_edicion=329

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Thinking

I have been thinking a lot lately. What am I doing? What’s the point of all of this?

I keep going around in circles.

There is a common theme in my musings. The question I pose is, what do we all want out of life?

I think that the answer is all around us. It’s in the eyes of our children, pleading with us for a shift in our focus. It’s the security at the airport, weary and tired of having to deal with the same shit every day. It’s the single mother working a waitressing job to maintain a balance of keeping afloat and enjoying life. It’s in the millions of selfies that are uploaded every day.

When it comes down to it, I think everyone wants to be given a fair chance, to be paid attention to, to be treated like an equal, and to be loved reciprocally - to have someone or something in life that gives as much as you give it.

This is why I am so confused. If everyone wants these basic things (and I really do believe that we do), then what has happened to the people who are in control? Do they take pleasure from seeing the suffering of others?

I choose not to believe this.

Oh, I know that some will flag me as naive. I have read Animal Farm, you know.

I just want something different. I want to #believeinthegoodintheworld.

After all my vast and varied encounters with random and remarkable human beings around the planet, I have some theories as to how things came to be.

Is it possible that the 1%, the insanely rich, might be so dug in to a certain class that the view outside is foggy? Almost every person I have ever met seems to genuinely want to improve the world, and is trying to work towards doing so. It seems as though the issue is in the manner in which this comes about.

In certain circles, holding $100 a plate black tie fundraisers is the epitome of striving for change - all the while promoting capitalistic endeavour.

Capitalism has its place though - it enables the working class Joe to have a fair go at starting something that could provide for the future, putting back into community, and having a purpose that is one’s own. This is one of the wondrous things to have come from recent times. Every day, we hear “rags to riches” stories that inspire us all.

Many capitalistic enterprises give purpose to large populations in providing jobs and resources.

This brings me back to the point of “having a fair chance”. Capitalism in itself is not the devil, rather it is when greed becomes the focal point.

I often wonder how people get involved in greedy industry - where the entire point of working is making money, making more money, and then making even more money. Where is the soul in a job like that?

My experiences have taught me this: many people live believing that making money is the main goal. The same people also grow up knowing the importance of respectful values, of caring relationships and being a good person. It’s just that somehow there is a part of either willful ignorance or possibly an ability to psychologically separate the two - my job is to make a lot of money, I am a good person.

In positions where the primary goal is to increase the total capital, there are high chances that it happens by cutting someone else out of the equation.

I do not profess to know enough about economics to say that there are not big enterprises out there, whose primary goal is to increase capital, that are not doing a lot of good in the world; but that is not my qualm. My issue is in the individuals themselves. Why go forth into the world if not to follow what we all want, deep down - to be given a fair chance, to be paid attention to, to be treated like an equal, and to be loved reciprocally.

That’s what I want.