Category Archives: politics

politics

A Sutra a Day: III-8 – Parry and Thrust

 

It’s been a free-for-all in the Australian Parliament recently. Prime Minister Julia Gillard was reported in the newspapers today as excoriating the Leader of the Opposition, Tony Abbott.

Goodness, excoriate! I think of the medical use of that word: damage or remove part of the surface of [the skin]. Or, in the vernacular, you could describe what’s happened as ‘tearing strips off’ the opposition.

I don’t know the full extent of the brouhaha, but I did watch a video of our PM in her 15 minutes of fame, censuring the L of the O. I admit to cheering for Julia as she stood up for herself and for women in general. At the same time I felt embarrassed about the donnybrook-ish atmosphere of our Federal Parliament. It seems to me that in this country the MP’s at times  more nearly resemble ruffians than legislators.

I sent around a link to Julia Gillard’s speech, which I’ve heard went viral. I got a response from a colleague who thought I was adding to the problem by spreading the word on Facebook. She gave me cause for thought. Was I, by taking sides, going to exaggerate the rift in the government, perhaps even in the country?

I get her point. An action produces an opposing reaction which begets a further rejoinder, followed by a backlash….

One of the aims in yoga is to become nonreactive. The cycle of karma-samskara-karma will be self-perpetuating until the mind stabilises to a level of calm that reflects pure awareness. A stillness like a tranquil high mountain lake – soundless, unruffled and peaceful.

Perhaps our parliamentary representatives just need to take a communal breather and start again.

Tadapi bahirangam nirbijasya

The state where the mind has no impressions of any sort and nothing is beyond its reach (nirbijah samadhi) is more intricate than the state of directing the mind towards an object (samadhi).*

*Patanjali’s Yogasutras, translation and commentary by T.K.V. Desikachar.

Not in My Backyard

Mitchells Island

We’ve had a lively conversation around the dinner table tonight that was prompted by our viewing of a movie called “Gasland”. It’s a documentary that was made by American Josh Fox about the mining for natural gas occurring right across the U.S in recent years. It’s a little budget movie that’s made a big impact on environmentally-aware people and also the people who ended up with drilling going on in their backyards.

Some of these people are very unhappy about the results of drilling and gas production on their land. In one town in Pennsylvania, Josh filmed families who were able to light their tap water on fire and who also suffered from numerous health issues.

Why should the content of this film bother us over here on sleepy little Mitchells Island? We’ve been told that exploratory gas mining licenses have been purchased on a fair bit of farmland around Gloucester, about 45 min. drive from here. We’re in a area replete with so many exquisite waterways: creeks, rivers, lakes everywhere. If there’s any pollution problems upstream we’re stuffed downstream, on the beautiful Manning River.

One of the things that this sort of mining called “fracking” – hydraulic fracturing – does is produce water as a by-product that’s full of the chemicals that are used in the process that then need to be disposed of. In the U.S. this is done by an evaporative process which had me wondering where those chemicals go when they are in our air.

Another potential problem is the disturbance of layers of earth which contain radioactive minerals. I’m not sure what the result of those sorts of shifts will be.

Yogis know there is no such thing as “my backyard”. So do others, as shown in these words from a famous speech:

All life is interrelated. We are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied into a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. – Martin Luther King (1967)

If you want to read more check out this link.

On the one hand…

When I went out to the Yoga Shed this morning to do my practice, I had no idea what day it was, but then I remembered.

I’ve alway been amused by the fact that one of the most important days on the Australian calendar often coincides with the U.S. mid and full term elections. Of course, we’re talking Melbourne Cup Day. A day that features fascinators, top hats, and invariably, like today, a downpour to favour mudders and drizabones.

The U.S. midterm elections are considered to be a watershed and likely to reinvigorate Republicans in Congress. Obama is on the nose in a lot of quarters.

And at Flemington today, ironically, a U.S.-bred horse named Americain, trained in France and ridden by a French jockey, has beaten the field.

I suppose Australia in its economic ascendance from the GFC can throw America a bone. Traveling in the States, I saw plenty of evidence of people doing it very hard. A lovely Marin County yoga school that we attended is running fund-raisers just to keep their studio afloat. Lots of people using up their savings to live just barely subsistence lifestyles. Foreclosures and bankruptcies were occurring everywhere I turned.

This isn’t the Lucky Country for everyone, for sure, but so far most of us have been protected from a slippery slide into despair and ruin.

Lucky, I suppose, except for that six-year old bay interloper from an American stable.

Rosalie's Horses

Deadline

Most times I love words (you might have guessed). I enjoy good writing in film or in a book. I adore going with a writer when they arabesque a metaphor and it flies like Baryshnikov or Nureyev and they take you along in their leap of imagination.

I don’t like words when they roll around in my head like the empty bottles on my car’s back floor, especially when I’m supposed to be sleeping.

I’m describing last night. My before-holidays to-do list ran in a continuous loop on my frontal brain screen until about 1:30 am. Then I woke early and the list started up again.

It’s all been written down on lists that I’m gradually ticking off, so I don’t know why it was to play out at night too.

Wednesday is our deadline for getting stuff on the lists done. Daniel is doing his own separate deadline for his part-time employer, which has sometimes felt like a further pressure on me. Wish I were a better yogini but I guess dealing with deadline pressures is a life-time learning.

I got to thinking about the word “deadline”. Maybe you don’t want to think about it too much. It doesn’t have a nice ring.

One theory is that it’s use derives from old U.S. military prisons where a “deadline” was drawn around a facility and any prisoner crossing that line was shot on the spot.

Certain work deadlines can feel as perilous the above description. But rarely does one die from not meeting one. Loss of sleep is certainly more common.

As the deadline for vote counting in the Australian federal election nears, I wonder which party will be dead in the water – hopefully the one lead by the guy who sports the Speedo-style cozzie.