Be Deviant

Muggins in 2020

Hands up if you feel at odds with the world these days?

I’ve been feeling decidedly odd these last couple of years. And while part of me knows this will probably always be the case, I was beginning to think there was something I was doing wrong. Something I had to fix in order to fit in.

Then I read this:

To be at peace with a troubled world: this is not a reasonable aim…
If you don’t fit in,
if you feel at odds with the world,
if your identity is troubled and frayed,
if you feel lost and ashamed
it could be because you have retained the human values you were supposed to have discarded.
You are a deviant. Be proud.

~ George monbiot, quoted in
This one wild and precious life


This One Wild and Precious Life came out in 2020, just as we were starting to comprehend the magnitude of a global pandemic.


Many people found their lives suddenly on pause; too much time to sit with their thoughts, nowhere to go to escape them – except Netflix, perhaps.


We watched as wildlife returned timidly to the streets, the skies cleared of smog and a slow motion disintegration of lives and economies spread around the globe.


In Australia, we were just reeling from the devastation of fires that turned our summer skies black, and destroyed unthinkable numbers of wildlife.


I had just finished my life long sentence as a renter, and become a mortgagee. I’d barely had time to unpack, let alone invite visitors, before we were plunged into lockdown and ordering desks online so we could work from home.


I was more than a little resentful, to be honest, to be imprisoned in my tiny office working harder than ever for my 8.5 hours-a-day income, while my welfare dependent sister had received a pay rise from the government to stay at home and do nothing!


I was supposed to be grateful to still have a job, but instead, I felt trapped in the Upsidedown and no one could hear me scream!

Barb disappears in Stranger Things – Netflix


It was into this WTF moment that Sarah Wilson’s well-timed love letter whispered its thought provoking “beautiful questions”.


I needed some perspective; a path through my despair and rage. And that’s exactly what she gave.


Wilson, for those wondering what’s her claim to fame, was a one-time editor of Cosmopolitan Australia, a former journalist and TV presenter, now author, hiker and activist. She somehow manages to balance life in the mainstream limelight with a frugal, environmentally aware existence and now shares her insights with anyone who will listen – in her book, podcast and newsletter.


Wilson, in her book as in life, seeks to find Rumi’s field, the field beyond the loneliness, despair and rage tearing our world apart, “where we stop disputing issues and instead discuss values. Soul values.”

Could this be Rumi’s field?


She does this by gently teasing out what she sees are the three ‘C’s” of our collective unease:

  • The crisis of Connection in a technology enabling “connection-lite” culture – one that allows us to opt out of the vulnerability of IRL interactions, and instead opt in to the kind of hate speech that real life tends to counteract.
  • The failure of an endless “more, more, more” consumerist model of economy (shhh, I think she means Capitalism) to meet our need to be part of a thriving collective.
  • The elephant-in-the-room Climate crisis – not helped by the proliferation of disposable coffee cups, plastic packaging and fast fashion trends of a consumerist economy.

Wilson manages to disguise solid research and science packed analysis in a conversational style that encourages us to bravely confront difficult to refute, and equally difficult to swallow, truths.

Speaking to an uncomfortable rising panic, Wilson acknowledges that this “’societal shitstorm’” is “manifestly impossible” for us to comprehend.

Are we all in the Upsidedown?


There’s no wonder we get trapped in a “fear–guilt–anger–despair–overwhelm cycle.”

It is the grace of Wilson’s extended human hand that makes you read on, and confront the beautiful, terrifying question: “What are we going to do about it?”

As an avid hiker, Wilson takes us on an incredible journey through hiking trails across England to Switzerland, Crete, Japan and Jordan (to name a few). As she goes, she gathers wisdom from around the globe to weave this “hopeful path forward” she has promised.

It doesn’t disappoint.

There are many strategies she offers as a way to turn our despair into action. For me, the two that resonate the most are probably the easiest to achieve:


Hike, just hike


Wilson delves into the benefits of green walks and forest bathing.


We all know that taking a walk in the bush makes us feel good. But what’s illuminating to me are studies that suggest the “healing effect of trees” is beyond some kind of esoteric feeling, and in fact routed in science.


As Wilson reflects, evolutionary responses to fear and stress were always tangible, “emotion was passed through, with the aid of the physical reaction”. In this sense, hiking is an “effective, honest and primal” way to process stress from our body.


And it doesn’t have to be a mountain climb. Even a twenty minute walk amongst trees lowers “salivary cortisol (the stress hormone) by 53 percent”.


There’s a word for the “joy of walking in nature”: biophilia. Similarly, there’s even a word for “homesickness from nature”: solastalgia.


It makes sense, then, that to reconnect with nature is the first step in the “fight to save what we love”. It is forward motion.


Start where you are

It’s easy to be defeated by the immensity of the task ahead of us – as if the small actions of one person can make any difference!

What Wilson proposes is refreshingly simple. Don’t try to be a hero, crusader, leader of some undiscovered genius to Net Zero.


Start where you are – with what is not being done, in your street, neighbourhood or workplace. Start small, ordinary, necessary. Be of service.


I struggled with this at first. And then I listened to myself, mentally berating my neighbours every time I walked past another bit of rubbish on the curb.


Start where you are at right now. With what you can already do.


The way forward is then a breathtaking relief.


“You start. Then it spreads. Action begets action. Care begets care”.


Where this forward motion takes us may indeed be a place of sacrifice or challenge beyond this “nice interlude” – such as buying less, getting comfortable with uncertainty or embracing activism.


When in doubt? One final beautiful question to set one’s moral compass by:


“Does this choice enlarge or diminish life?”


It’s a profoundly confronting question. How to be a big human, in a world that wants us to stay small?

Care less, you'll be less stressed.
I’ve been told to Care Less my whole life. But is that really the answer we’re looking for? (PS. I don’t like being told to Care Less.)

Will her book convert the science denying, anti-everything conspiracy theorists into climate activists? Probably not.


Are her lifestyle choices always relatable to the average stuck-in-a-rut full-time employed muggins, like myself? Not always.

What Wilson’s book does offer is a starting point for those of us who feel the imbalance but have no clue what to make of it, and even less what to do about it. A means of examining where we are, and how we get to where we want to be.

I’m very, very far from where I want to be. Stuck in my smallness, inside my small suburban bubble, looking out.


But what Wilson has given me is hope. I know, now, what I need to do. Or at least, I have an idea.


What will follow is an attempt to keep myself accountable, as I put one small step ahead of the other to Go Wild. Quietly.


It’s time to embrace deviance (like there was ever any other choice!). I hope you’ll join me on that journey, even if it’s just to laugh at all the dumb mistakes I make along the way.

Rage of the Heart

 

Hello. Did you miss me?

I missed me.

I think I’m nearly ready to do this thing again. Differently, though.

Go Wild. Quietly.

What does that even mean?

Our worlds have become so small. At least in Melbourne, with the world’s longest lockdown on record.

Our workplaces now reduced to two small screens, are in no way large enough to contain the petty politics of a fragmented workforce.

We’re all a little demented. Consumed with Mask Rage and Vax Rage and These-four-walls Rage.

From my upstairs window, I’ve been watching my neighbours dump regular gifts of bread for the crows to glut their babies’ bellies with.

I’m incensed with Bread Rage.

I’ve become the local mad hat, masked and gloved and stabbing my pickup stick at other people’s bread gifts.

The crows are incensed with Me.

They don’t understand. Maybe none of us do.

You might love this as much as I do: the word courage quite literally breaks down to ‘rage’ of the ‘heart’ (coeur in French).

~ Sarah Wilson, This One Wild and Precious Life

After six lockdowns totalling what will be 263 days inside our isolated urban bubbles, it’s the simple things you miss the most.

The smell of a freshly watered rainforest – no humans in sight.

The brisk, unfiltered rush of clean, inhaled air.

The happy, garbled chatter of cafe clientele, backdrop to the hiss – gurgle – crack of brewed coffee on the make.

That First. Eager. Slurp.

Freedom is the small things.

The temporary loss of these small pleasures has revealed the fault lines of our complicated, global existence.

We rage over their loss, because we don’t know how to deal with the Big. Unfathomable. Things.

Life is out of kilter. Perhaps it always was.

From the standpoint of today, what we thought was Normal is beginning to look like a fool’s wet dream. And tomorrow?

How do we re-emerge into this strangely unfamiliar Covid Normal world?

What will it look like ten or twenty or fifty years from now?

It’s through these Unfathomable Things that Sarah Wilson winds a “hopeful path forward” in her book This One Wild and Precious Life.

A book that is truly of its time, it whispered to me last year, quite by surprise, as I wandered aimlessly through a discount bookstore in what would become a rare and luxurious moment between lockdowns.

I was looking for an answer to my question: What, exactly, is going wild, quietly?

And how do I get back there?

The cover beckoned to me with an arresting image (I only later realised) of the very place where my own earliest memories of life in the wild began – out there, on the road to Cradle Mountain.

I had to buy it. And it was the most transformative read since Quiet; the Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking, by Susan Cain. The perfect sequel, in a way, on my Go Wild. Quietly quest.

Tune in to my next post and beyond, where I delve into a review of the book and its power to enlarge one’s world.

Where are you at these days?

Humble Pie

1984. Tasmania. Nelson Mandela’s fight for freedom had hit the music charts, and was likely blasting on the radio of the ‘Big Bus’ – the first of a three-bus-long journey to school.

At the age of seven, I wouldn’t have known what ‘Free Nelson Mandela’ meant. But I understood the principles of terror.

Early in the morning, we’d be trudging through a kilometre of frost to encounter the two frosty sisters from the dairy farm next door.

Possibly they were going to slice the fingers from my fingerless gloves, or drown me in the lake with the kittens. I don’t remember the specific threat, just that I was afraid. Very afraid.

And that was before Mr Sim’s coach thundered up, and I had to face the Big Kids at the back of the bus.

Bus old

“Whadda you lookin’ at?” they’d sneer, and tell me to piss off down the front, or else…

I could tell my two older siblings were also scared, or at least, they were too busy trying to fit in to come to my defence.

Until then, I’d always thought the big kids were supposed to protect the little ones.

It was a wide awakening…me, at night, trying to think of a solution to my woe.

Finally, I consulted Mum for advice. She, in turn, consulted the repository of all wisdom – Uncle Arthur’s Bedtime Stories.

The next day I was sent to the bus stop with a brown paper bag full of blackberry pies.

As the sneering sisters turned on me, I held up my white flag.

“It’s for you…(Mum made them),” I mumbled, not daring to meet their gaze. I could feel my siblings’ mortified stupor cowering somewhere behind me.

The sisters took the offering, and inspected it for poison.

The moment their eyes grew wide, I knew it was a winner.

“But, why?” they breathed. I shrugged. “Thank you. That’s so nice…”

Pie

In my mind, they got on the bus and bragged to their friends about the pie they scored. But I’m not sure that really happened.

What I do know is we all knew that they knew they didn’t deserve it. And from that moment on, peace reigned at the bus stop.

When I think back on that memory now, it seems kind of quaint and embarrassingly naïve.  If that same thing happened today, would the bullies back down. Or would they kick you in the guts for trying to placate them?

I’m scared of the world we live in.

A world where leaders pay lip service to the greatness of a man who understood human rights as more than just a dusty document.

A world where leaders think that inventing the term ‘illegal refugee’ justifies the persecution of people fleeing from tyranny.

A world where freedom and democracy are rights of the first world to deny.

We preach the principles of ‘turn the other cheek’ – as long as it’s not ours.

But Mandela knew better. He didn’t turn the other cheek. He stood his ground. Held his enemies in a firm embrace.

Shamed them, with pure decency, and took a nation with him while he did.

Rugby Old

It takes a giant to do that.

My actions in 1984 were not noble, loving or even forgiving. It was self-preservation. Had they actually caused me harm, I’d have been blubbering behind a tree or quietly plotting their revenge. Not giving pie.

But the principle is the same. In both cases, peace was won because the people in the wrong had the graciousness to know when to back down.

Bob Geldof, in his tribute to Mandela, writes:

“…who could have imagined the humility, the dignity and forgiveness that Mandela displayed to his oppressors upon his final total success?

In private he pitied them. He knew precisely what he was doing. One visitor said: ‘Mr President you have given great dignity to the black people.’ Madiba replied instantly (and you can hear the inimitable cadence in his reply): ‘No, young man, you are wrong. I have given dignity to the white man. There is no dignity in the oppressor.'”

As a globe, do we have what it takes to honour his memory? Can we empathise with ‘the other’ enough to open our arms to their pain? Are we brave enough to eat the humble pie?

Fast Forward to the Fifties

So it’s official. Australia is returning to the 1950’s freakin’ dark ages.

Remember this guy from my post a few weeks back?

Ditch WitchThe guy who happily stood in front of the “Ditch the Witch…Bob Brown’s Bitch” banner, and then said Julia Gillard was being “too precious”?

Yep. It obviously struck a chord with my fellow country-folk, because he’s our new Prime Minister as of last weekend!

With Tony Abbott at the helm, this is what we have to look forward to:

Foreign AidNo more charity (but better roads)

Courtesy of our mining boom, we weathered the global financial crisis better than any country on the globe. Now we’re apparently too rich to help out anyone in need.

Stop Boats

No more refugees

We’re so rich we can now afford to buy up all of Indonesia’s leaky boats before the people smugglers get to them. Innovative new plan to →

No more climate change

Climate Tax

Since Abbot believes climate change is just a load of “crap”, there’s no more need for any kind of forward environmental planning.

More ironing for housewives

In the world according to Abbot, women have less physiological aptitude for leadership, and abortion is just ‘the easy way out’. So we can soon expect a return to this…

Laundry

Yay……………………………………….

Help.

Anyone?

I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to get back to the…

Future

1.  Volunteer for Mars.

If my head hadn’t been buried in the video project that will never end, maybe I would have heard about it before the applications closed.

2.  Become a refugee.

The other day my hairdresser told me about a backpacker who overstayed her Visa.  She escaped on an Indonesian boat and is now happily posting Facebook updates from Nepal! I’m all up with the squatting toilet now, so this is sounding good. One small problem: They’re stopping all the boats!

3.  Become a hippie.

The same hairdresser asked me if I want to join her setting up a commune. All I need is $100,000. Sigh. Apparently it costs money to drop out of society, these days.

4.  Wash it all down with Martini and write this blog.

The 50’s were good for something, at least.

Martini

”Cause we’re all doomed, even if we’re livin’ on the moon…’

~ Brett Amaker  & the Rodeo

If someone offered you a ticket, would you move to Mars?

Switching Up the Roles

Women in Australia have just been royally screwed.

Julia Gillard, our first female Prime Minister, kicked out of leadership two months before the next election, in preference for her predecessor, Kevin Rudd.

Okay. It is true. She did kinda oust Kevin in his first term of government. But what everyone seems to forget is that her party put her up to it – with a VOTE!!

Her reward for being a team player was negotiating a hostile hung parliament through three years of extraordinary reforms. Being the target of a vicious media campaign. And then being dumped as unceremoniously as she started out.

Here are some of the headlines we got to enjoy while she was PM:

Julia Gillard

Ju-LIAR – Bob Brown’s Bitch

Her fatherdied of shame

Ditch the Witch

She should be put in a chaff bag and thrown out to sea

She’s been served up on an Liberal (Opposition) Party function menu as “Julia Gillard Kentucky Fried Quail – small breast, big thighs and a big red box”.

And recently, asked if her male hairdresser partner is gay.

There are some in the media who would have us believe that “women are destroying the joint” and others who feel quite comfortable telling journalists “women should shut up in public”.

To top it all off, any sign of disapproval is met with the accusation we’re just “too precious” and “playing the gender card”!

Thank god for GetUp, who established a Gender Card campaign to address the “deep, rank, sexist bullshit” in this country.

I mean, seriously. What the hell century are we living in again?

On the up side, representation of women in Australian media and politics is apparently reaching a 30% critical threshold. So maybe that’s why the old fellas are getting all hysterical…

What you mad? Can’t handle that?

By the way, Happy Independence Day, America!

If you could switch roles, what’s the first thing you would do?