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" We need to preserve wild spaces. Outside in the environment, but also within ourselves. The opposite of control isn’t chaos, it is reality" 

I read this quote this morning and it got me pondering. 

What a profoundly wonderful piece of truth.

When our lives are controlled, we are meaningless. We drift from task to task, seemingly blind in achieving our objective which, ultimately, is to stay ahead of the Boss Hog. 


But when we are allowed to thrive, the world is beyond limit. 

Someone else said that " these Oligarchs who control our lives through that thing called government are ADDICTS. They are addicted to MORE Money, Power & Control…"

ADDICTS do not care how much damage they do. Everything is about how they will get their next fix. They have delusional versions of ‘reality’ that back up their justifications for such damage if they aren’t completely oblivious....

Once you understand that these people will never STOP THEMSELVES… then you understand the reality we are facing… they can’t be ‘reasoned’ with… they have no ‘reasoning’ that does not involve pushing forward with their agenda.

We need a rehab for these people and I think they need years of residential, contained treatment.

Perhaps those camps they built for us might just as well suit them?



I NEED my wild place. 

I need somewhere to retreat to that is outside the CONTROL of the Boss Hog. Somewhere to travel, in my mind and somewhere to smell the flowers, see the sun set and the sun to rise. I need that solitude and sanctuary of my mind.

Because there is sweet bugger all else left these days when we need to go to a quiet place.

Yes, I understand that I can get in my car and head off into the Outback. I can lie under a star-filled sky and be amazed at the sheer bounty that is out there; that endless infinity that we call the Universe. 

I can pitch a tent beside a creek and roll out my swag and sip from a bottle of green ginger wine as I warm myself in the cold winter's night air.


 But I cannot begin to comprehend. 

I cannot. 



What have we done? 

I can smile as I read from my dog-eared copy of the writings of Banjo Patterson ( who should have been posthumously knighted by the way ) and I can recount the shave of the Man from Ironbark as he escaped the razor that sought to slit his throat.


Only these days we are slitting our own throats and the man from ironbark is no more.

A lost soul in a nation that has lost its way. 

I can do all those things and be content in my wild place.

Except that I have become soft. 

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I like the comfort of my bed. I like the warmth of my reverse cycle air conditioning and the relief it gives on a mid-summer's night.

I enjoy being able to pop into the local to buy a bottle of my favorite tipple and then see the ease with which I can order a meal and have it delivered to my door a mere 40 minutes later.

Yes, I have become soft.

And the government knows it and they know it well.

They have, in their own way, made me soft.  

Yes, even in the bush there is no escape from the lunacy that is engulfing our nation and our world.

It's UNCOMFORTABLE sleeping in the bush. 

It's COLD or HOT and it takes so LONG to get to the wild place.

When I was a little girl, my grandfather had a home in the middle of the city. It must have had a very big yard because, down the back, there was a place called " The Wild Place ".

It was so convenient really. 

We could play there and imagine all sorts of things. But we were still close enough to home that Mum could call and we would hear her and be back at the table for lunch quick snap

It had a stone wall around it and, within the wild place there were many monsters, wild animals and creatures as yet undiscovered. 

Once we scaled that stone wall, we were in another dimension. And it was all within a " cooeee " of our Mum.It was not just our wild pace. It was paradise.


Today, our wild places are so far away. 

We cannot scale a stone wall and enter a wild place. 

We must travel distances in cars. We must make sure we have a valid permit. 

We must make declarations. Sign forms. Tick boxes.

The Wild Place is no longer an easy place to visit.  

So many of us choose to visit in our imaginations and our minds and our uneasy sleep.

I read an email from a relative and he has just arrived in Washington State after nearly 3 years of being locked in New Zealand.

He wrote:

" The hummingbirds are happy I'm back. They are so happy!!! Even a bear cruising around the neighborhood apparently. Some huge elk lying in the paddock below us as well."



And it struck me that we truly need our wild place. 

That place where we can sup on a ginger wine or stare at a wondrous sky or read a favourite poem; watch a hummingbird ( I have never seen one in reality ) or marvel at a moose or have an eagle eye of an elk or a birds-eye view of a bear cruising idly by.

While I cannot physically be present to witness this delightful scene, I am fortunate to have the wild place of my mind. 

I can close my eyes and see that bear. I can see the elk, the hummingbirds and I swear I can hear the breeze as it strokes the blades of grass in the meadows and fields.

I can smell the love in the air. The scent of normality. The aroma of envy. 

How I wish I could see that scene in reality.


 OK  I snuk that in. But ... have A think. 

But, for now, I am content with the wild place of my mind.

I find it rather comfortable and I can go there any time I choose. 














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