Marching into March

I am looking forward to the end of the hot weather and the beginning of autumn here. Last week, and into the beginning of this one, it’s been unbearably hot and I’ve been out bush for most of it.

If you can imagine what it’s like camping when the temperature is 39 degrees (that’s more than 100 degrees Fahrenheit) in the company of 10 gazillion flies, then driving over extremely remote country (check out the photo below – there were no tracks, but that’s what we were driving over), you’ll get the idea.


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Location, Location, Location


Anityāśuci-duhkhānātmasu nitya-śuci-sukhātma-khyātir avidyā (Yoga Sutra 2.5)

Ignorance is misperceiving permanence in transience, purity in impurity, pleasure in suffering, an essential self where there is no self (trans. Stoller-Miller, 1998:45).

I’ve again butted my head against position (location) – position in the sense of political or ideological position, which in the context in which I live and work, always exists. One is in the ‘advocacy’ camp (read Indigenous peoples’ rights) or in the government camp. There is no in between. No shades of grey.

Clearly, this is ridiculous. The world is all colours and shades. And labels are just that: there is no us versus them. No advocacy camp vs the government camp. It’s a fictional right-left bullshit position that is now irrelevant.

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