Jungian Asthma Attack (A poem)

Last night I had a dream and in my dream I was
running away from something, like you do, some unknown and unknowable Big Bad,
except I did know, really, it's just that I couldn't tell myself or everything would end

in my dream, I ran and ran, and I ran into an empty and broken building
a real wreck, broken glass everywhere, pigeon dung on the metal struts, smelling like cold and rust
some kind of industrial building, maybe, but it was dark
God, how dark it was -
like the inkpot of hell, the output of some demon squid
and I ran and ran and I could see nothing at all

I knew where I was going though, somewhere I could hide
make myself small and inconsequential, so that thing that was chasing me would be fooled
and go away, snorting
while I curled into the shape of a slater bug and held myself tight side-to-side

I was climbing a ladder in the dark, it was missing rungs and it creaked and I
panicked, the sour metallic taste in my mouth as I keened silently
it's gonna hear it's gonna hear it's gonna hear me -

Then, suddenly, like an otter breaking water, I was up above
I was in a dusty, run-down but light-filled apartment
up above the world so high like a tea-tray in the sky
there was a bed piled high with rough blankets, a toilet that looked like it flushed maybe
a gas-ring, a heavy kettle, a moth-eaten rug on the floor

In my dream I fell on my knees and sobbed into the dirt and the dust
and my tears made dark tracks in the cobwebs on the floor

Then, suddenly, I knew I had to hide again
and the light was going, I was gasping, I was choking, and I -

You were wheezing hard, he said, as he woke me and handed me my puffer
Like you couldn't breathe well. You have to remember to take it...

Yes, I said, inhaling. Oh yes.

- Kathy, 8/6/15

How I became a single-issue voter

I follow Australian politics reasonably closely, USian politics to a moderate degree, and other world politics to a more desultory level. Major elections rarely completely pass me by, provided they get at least minimal media coverage (I'm sure elections occur in some parts of the world that never see the light of day even in independent media available in Australia, let alone mainstream media).

One thing that's always puzzled me a bit, in all these contexts, is the notion of single-issue voters. In US politics in particular, there's always a lot of talk about single-issue voting, especially (in my perception, anyway) on conservative hot button topics. Right-to-lifers will vote solely and only on a candidate's abortion stance; gun advocates will vote solely on the right to bear arms, and so forth.

This has always seemed peculiar to me. How can people disregard all the myriad of other issues, I've asked myself? How can they not evaluate the whole picture? How can they elevate one single issue above all other considerations, and just ask, what does the party / candidate think about this, never mind everything else?

Over the last six months, I've come to understand. Over the last six months, I've swung around to basically being a single-issue voter myself.

What it comes down to is this.

I cannot vote for a party, or a candidate, who supports offshore "processing" (torture) of asylum seekers. I feel sickened and disgusted even thinking about the bipartisan support this inhumane, small-souled, and internationally illegal practice has from both the ALP and the Coalition. It actually makes my heart and body rebel viscerally at the idea of supporting this, even by implication, with my vote.

It doesn't matter what they say about economics, or domestic social policy, or education, or infrastructure, or taxation or health or the environment or defence or science. I have various views about all those things, of course, and I can see (some) differences between the two on some of these points, although, frankly, not nearly as much as there should be.

As long as there is only one party in Australia that categorically opposes offshore detention and the torture of asylum seekers, I cannot choose to vote any other way. I don't get past that first gate to even evaluate other issues, because this IS my threshhold issue, and it's never going to change.

Thus, it's the Australian Greens for me. I think their policy positions in most areas are admirable, and I might well align with them anyway on the balance, but there is no argument to even be had, because the Greens are the only ones standing up against this atrocity and calling it out for what it is, so they are the only party I CAN vote for.

So that's the story of how I became a single-issue voter, and developed some insight into why others can be so committed to their One True Thing that it shapes their voting each and every time.

The ghost of holidays past

Brunching with friends today, we spent a bit of time waxing lyrical about the majesty that is the annual snow sale at Aldi.

"But $300 ..." sighed one. "It's not a small amount of money -"

"No, no," interspersed my husband, "you don't want to think of it like that. When we went to Hotham in 2012, we spent that much just HIRING all the gear! Now we've got it and we can reuse it whenever."

"For our oh so frequent snow trips," remarked the friend drily, and with justice. We're not exactly the Aspen jet set here; the snow preparations are for a 3-day trip to Marysville to visit the snowplay areas at Lake Mountain, where we'll all be staying in a large shared cabin at the caravan park.

"I'll wear my boots elsewhere," I volunteered, and there was general agreement that a Melbourne winter would provide more than a few opportunities to truly appreciate extremely warm, lined boots.

"And M wore her stuff to camp! It was freezing, kept her warm," added the first speaker's partner.

As we were all nodding sagely at the wisdom of preparing for a snowy holiday, my mind wandered a little wistfully back to the preparations, both mental and physical, we were making this time last year for our mid-year break. This year it was the snow sale at Aldi; last year was swimwear shopping online and choosing new sunhats for everyone.

That's because last year was the year of the really BIG holiday - the kind that we only did once every 5 years or so pre-kids, and in fact the only one we've done since First Kid was born in 2003. Two weeks in Port Douglas - it was magic, we had a wonderful time, and it was warm and beautiful and a blessed escape from Melbourne winter - or so it seemed at the time, although I now think it had its downsides, as we all got quickly sick when thrust back into the ice of July at home.

I have so many fond memories of that holiday, and I'd love to go back one day, but it's important not to let the warmth and beauty of the tropical north hover like a spectre over the littler, colder holidays we'll be taking for the next while.

After all, we've had great and memorable holidays in all sorts of places closer to home. One of my three kids still swears our Warrnambool trip in 2013 is her best and favourite, while the youngest, for whom recency is king, is besotted by Phillip Island after our January break there. I myself have strong, nostalgic fond memories of our Walkerville South (Gippsland) farmstay in 2011, and our first holiday as a family of five in Echuca in 2010. None of these trips were expensive or exotic, but all were very lovely, and I am sure that, cold aside, Marysville is going to be too.

Don't do it if it hurts inside

Here's what I find about compromise -
Don't do it if it hurts inside,
Cause either way you're screwed,
And eventually you'll find
You may as well feel good;
You may as well have some pride...

- Indigo Girls, Second Time Around

Compromise is, in many ways, a wonderful and necessary thing that enables people to live with each other without resorting to an exhausting non-stop dominance war. (Although, that happens, too). Being able to give a little to get a little, being able to seek for and find a middle ground, is a vital skill  to have, living in the world. Understanding that you can't always get your own way, and that this is actually OK, is an important part of adulting, and I am all for it.

Buuuuuut.

Compromise has another connotation, one that I think is a lot more insidious and damaging than  "let's find a solution we can all live with" pragmatism. Compromise can also be about making choices that you know are wrong, or at least suboptimal, in order to gain something, or fit in, or keep the peace, or not feel awkward feelings, or not have hard conversations. It's no coincidence that describing someone as "hopelessly compromised" is not a compliment, or that personal corruption often begins with seemingly small compromises.

Those are the kinds of compromises that hurt inside, because they damage something very real in a person's ethical sense. Make enough of them, and empathy and self-esteem start to decay. I have met people throughout my life who are so compromised in themselves that they seem to have lost all sense of not just who they are, but who anyone else is either, and why decency even matters in how they behave to others.

Look, it's true - not compromising on your ethics and beliefs will have consequences too, and some of them really hard ones. Either way you're screwed, indeed. But if I'm going to pick a side to get whipped on, I will try as much as I can to pick being attacked for positions, actions or speech consistent with my ethics and my beliefs, rather than deal with the moral rot that follows suppressing, hiding or lying about them in order to keep an even keel.

So, no, I won't stop posting on Facebook and Twitter about asylum seeker torture. Actually, I'm not inclined to let homophobia and transphobia pass quietly when I hear it. As it happens, I won't go along when people make racist and classist chitchat, even when it's hella awkward to call it out.

I may as well have some pride, y'know. That's what it comes down to, in the end.

Excerpt: Novel in progress - Tuy inside the Eye

I have mentioned that I am writing - or attempting to write - a novel at the moment. The working title is The True Size of the Universe, and it's a sort-of sci fi. It's set on a spaceship, anyway - the Queen Parysatis, which is a cargo ship, freighting commercial loads around the stars. In my version, the distances between stars are traversed via "charting", which is sort of like hyperspace jumps but not quite. I'm not a physicist, so there is a fair bit of mumble-mumble-LOOK-A-BIG-SPACEY-THING going on :-)

This scene is one I am having trouble with. It's a dream / coma / altered state sequence, told in the intimate third person with the focus on the dreamer, who is the astrogator Tuy (one of the three main characters). It's meant to be suggestive and somewhat opaque, but I don't think it's quite working though and I'm not sure why.

Anyway, see what you think...

_________________________________________________________________

it is dark

            cold

                        where where where

                                    where are my feet

                                                where is my inner eye I am blind blind

Tuy felt, rather than heard, amusement rippling through the air towards her. She grasped at it with fingers that weren’t there.

Where?

- you ask where is your inner eye the lady tuy asks this –

Who are you? I cannot see –

- don’t you know lady oh lady of the starstream oh charter of worlds piercer of voids -

Where is my crew? Where is the Parysatis? I can’t, I don’t know –

            - the queen floats placid in the void she is safe she is safe –

Tuy gasped in pain as memory flashed through her.

Where have I sent my crew? I charted blind, I charted into the stream and I didn’t – Did I put us in the heart of a sun? Is this what death is, am I, are we

            - you are not dead lady though you will be soon enough –

            - the crew of the queen lives insofar as you seem to grasp the term –

            - the queen swims gently in space between stars not exploded not in a sun -

Tuy drew a shaking breath. Testing her voice, in a rusty whisper, she said, “But where? Where am I, and where is the Parysatis?”

            - the silver-tailed queen flicks her fins at the pillars of creation –

“We’re at the Eagle Nebula?”

            - indeed yes lady oh lady of the bright and brittle mind oh lady of the night –

“Am I on board, still? Or did I – have I been –“

The sense of amusement was strong.

            - you lie in state attended by your myrmidon your face is pale as milk –

“I’m in sick bay?”

- lady –

Tuy tried to collect her thoughts. It was difficult; they were scattering away as fast as cockroaches with a light shined on them. Where was her inner eye? Why couldn’t she find the starstream? The familiar sick panic started to rise. It is dark it is dark I cannot see a way out a way forward the whole world is the ship and the ship is too small –

            - peace lady the world is wide the world is infinite there are no walls –

Will I wake?

            - you will wake lady tuy you shall wake to chaos soon enough –

“When?”

            - when it is time star diver when it is time –

“And until then, I am…?”

            - do you not know –

Tuy slowed her breathing with an effort of will, and allowed the muted sense impressions, trickling around her like coloured sand, to penetrate. Dark, yes, but not black; dim, and out of focus, like a myopic’s early dawn. Cold, but with the sharpness of a raw second-phase Demoae morning, not with the absolute zero of space. No odours at all. No light, but not total absence of light. She could not feel the existence of her feet, but she stood on something, and it was soft, feathered. Like – it was like being –

“I am inside the inner eye.”

The amusement was tinged with approval now.

            - you are held within the eye safely held cradled within –

“That’s why I can’t sense it! Because I’m within it…”

            - but you can lady open the gates and you will feel where you stand you will see –

I will see…

Tuy unclenched her mind, and let it all rush in.