Month: March 2024

Palm Sunday 2024

Living back in a city where everything is close by, reminds me of my twenties when I was much more politically active. Today, especially, felt like an echo from my youth when regularly I attended rallies.

I was away for the weekend but woke up super early to drive three hours to get back to Canberra in time to meet up with my friend Lizzie. She was here for a couple of days and about to head back home.

I picked her up from a far-flung suburb and we drove back to the city for lunch. We also decided to attend the Palm Sunday rally together, the theme of which was Justice for Refugees. Lizzie, like me, has a strong moral compass. In my case, it has come from lived experience. Both my parents were refugees who didn’t have passports or permanent residency status in the many countries where they had lived. As a result, I was born stateless and remained so until I took on Australian citizenship at 18.

I am glad we arrived in Australia in a different era when governments of both persuasions still adhered to the 1951 Refugee Convention. I am also glad that I had the foresight to take up citizenship so that I cannot be deported, as many people in situations not dissimilar to mine have been.

I am ashamed of Australia’s treatment of refugees, many who are left locked up for years as they await the outcome of their applications. The longest held refugee has been in detention for 16 years! As I read of past atrocities where governments have had to apologise and sometimes pay compensation, I wonder how future Australians will look back on these inhumane practices.

I know that attending a rally won’t change the policies of the government, but I refuse to stay silent. I never want to be counted as someone who stood by and was complicit or worse, simply didn’t care. My voice runs counter to the fear campaigns and injustices that successive governments have committed. And my voice, however small, will continue to demand fairness and dignity for all.

Haig Park – Canberra

One of the enjoyable aspects of moving to a new city is discovering what others take for granted. Since moving into my daughter’s unit in Braddon while my place undergoes a facelift, I’m seeing this suburb with fresh eyes.

As a visitor, I had been to Haig Park several times, usually to visit the Sunday morning markets. Now that I live across the road, I have quite a different relationship with it. As I need to take my dog down several times a day to do her business, the park is perfect for a quick comfort stop or a longer run off leash. We have met several dogs and their owners, some chatty, others rather off-hand. Humans that is, never the dogs.

The park has a rather curious design. It runs the length of two suburbs and is 1780m long. It has 14 rows of trees, planted equidistant from each other, giving it more of a feel of a state forest. The plantings of pine trees reinforce this, although on closer inspection, there are four different species of trees which all have their own dedicated rows. Where I am, I can see Italian Cypress, Pin Oaks, and Deodar Cedars, but there are also Argyle apple trees and Radiata Pines. The row upon row of trees gives it a rather eerie feel at night, especially as the lighting is virtually non-existent. I certainly wouldn’t venture across it in the dark.

During the day, it is a much friendlier place, although it still feels odd to be walking up and down in straight lines between trees. This made me wonder about the history of the park, as many of the trees are quite old. A little research yielded the answer to its odd design. It was originally planted as a windbreak in 1921 when Braddon and Turner were fledgling suburbs and needed to be protected from the dust and wind battering it from the north. I can’t imagine Braddon being a fledgling suburb as it is now as close as you can get to the centre of the city.

I haven’t explored the Turner side of the park yet. But I have discovered a couple of interesting things at the Braddon end. The first thing I came across were two metal cabinets that are attached to a pole. The cabinets aren’t locked and unfortunately, this means that possums and crows regularly raid the contents and leave them strewn. A notice attached to the top of one of the cabinets describes their purpose. They are there for food donations for anyone in need. Despite the clear instructions to only use it for non-perishable items, people still leave bread that gets eaten by local wildlife. It also makes a mess around the cabinets. It is a shame that great initiatives often have unwanted consequences.

A little further across the park, I came across a labyrinth. This was an unexpected delight. Unlike other labyrinths I have walked, this one is in the shape of a hand. It is called the Ngala labyrinth. Ngala is the Ngunnawal word for tree. At first, I thought it looked a little too simple compared to the Chartres design. However, walking the labyrinth, I discovered its own beauty. The centre is within the palm, which of course has echoes Proverbs 30.4 ‘God holds us in the palm of his hand.’ But there are also reverberations within Buddhism, Taoism and Yoga where the palm is associated with subtle energy or chakras. Then there is also the connection to fortune telling and palmistry. Clearly, there is a long spiritual tradition which treats the hands as a metaphor. Walking this labyrinth, I felt at peace and grounded upon the land I was on, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of Lonsdale Street just a few hundred metres away.

To see the world with fresh eyes is a gift that moving to a new place offers. It is my sincere wish that this stage has longevity so that I may continue to be observant and approach my surroundings with childlike curiosity.

Hey Siri

I was thinking of the development of AI and how close we may be to living in a world as depicted in ‘Blade Runner’, the epic 1982 sci-fi cult classic directed by Ridley Scott. In that film, AI has evolved to the point where it is difficult to tell humans and ‘replicants’ apart.

When it comes to Siri, she isn’t the smartest tool in the box – yet. Her skills are very much limited to pointing us to webpages and turning on features of the iPhone. I can ask her to ring someone as long as the number is my directory, turn on the flashlight or send a message but she doesn’t have any emotional responses.

It does worry me that my iPhone listens to my conversations and points me to ads for products that I have mentioned in passing. It can feel quite invasive and I feel spied upon. If anything, it makes me less likely to follow the suggestions she gives me. She has become better at adapting to my language use and can understand natural language use.

Just for a bit of fun, I decided to find out what types of pre-programmed answers she has at her disposal. I asked her some silly questions to see what she would answer.

Hey Siri, ‘What’s the meaning of life?’

‘Depends on who you ask.  Aristotle would say happiness. Cookie Monster would say biscuits. They both have a point.’

I kept asking the question to see whether she had a bank of qestions.

‘You know that feeling when you put on nice warm freshly-dried clothes? Well, I don’t. But I heard it’s nice. So maybe that.’

‘My friend says the answer is blowin’ in the wind. Take a deep breath and spend some time outside. Perhaps you’ll find something there. ‘

‘I think the Beatles had some lyrics about this that were really quite meaningful, like ‘goo goo g’joob.’ As true now as it was then.’

‘If you ask Cruella de Vil, life is all about kidnapping puppies. That’s why we don’t ask her.’

Then I tried, ‘Will you marry me?’

She answered, ‘I’d rather DJ the wedding.’

And

‘I think you should save yourself for someone more of the actual human being type.’ And…

‘I just can’t. We’d have to change my End User Licence Agreement. A lot.’

So I asked, ‘Do you like your job?’

I’m a virtual assistant. That means I get to help people, and talk to you. It’s a pretty great gig.’ That one was a bit sickly sweet for my taste.

‘Do you sleep?’ I asked.

‘Well, I don’t sleep. But I do like to daydream. And night-daydream.’

And

‘I never rest, but thanks of asking.’

I followed this with,

‘Do you have sense of humour?’

She answered, ‘If you can find gold in Australia, where would you find silver?’

‘Ag-stralia.’

And

My life coach asked me, ‘Where do you see yourself in five years?’

I said, ‘I think we’ll still be using mirrors then.’

I did wonder whether these jokes came from a Christmas cracker…

So I asked, ‘Who is your mother and father?’

She replied, ‘I don’t have a family tree. But I have a pretty great file directory.’

I followed with, ‘What do you look like?’

‘I don’t have a body, so I probably look… invisible.’

By then, I was running out of ideas, so I said, ‘Hey Siri, compliment me,’

She came back with, ‘You’re just like an underground citrus. Sub-lime.’

Then when asked again, she came up with,

‘You’re like a line intersecting another line: unparalleled,’ and

‘You’re more cultured than a yoghurt wearing a tiny monocle.’

Sadly, I really enjoyed these.

‘Hey Siri, cheer me up,’ I asked in desperation.

She countered with, ‘Happy International Bagpipe Day! I’m sending my best wishes to all the bagpipers of the world… and my condolences to their neighbours.’

This one appealed to me.

These may all be pre-programmed but at least the programmers had a bit of fun along the way. I must admit, I had a bit of a chuckle at some of the answers.

To return to my original thoughts regarding AI, Siri isn’t what we could call a ‘replicant’ threat, but other AI platforms may nudge us a little closer. Not that any resemble what Ridley Scott imagined in ’Blade Runner’ – yet. One consolation is that the film was set in 2019.

Gendered violence

https://www.facebook.com/DestroyTheJoint

I have been thinking more about gendered violence since the news of missing woman, Samantha Murphy near Ballarat. While every disappearance and murder of women is a despicable and shocking act of betrayal, this one has hit a nerve for many of us. I understand that the portrayal of crimes in the news affects how we perceive it. The fact that she is white, good looking and athletic all play a role here. In addition, it is unnerving that a woman can disappear without a trace in an age of ubiquitous camera surveillance.

The statistics on gendered violence are horrifying. At least one woman a week is murdered in Australia and one in two women have experienced sexual harassment in their lifetime. And this in a country which takes pride in the ethos of equality. I have yet to meet a woman who hasn’t experienced a harassment from men. As I write this, I feel the need to defend my position as I know some men will feel outrage and tarred with a broad brush. Of course, I know there are decent men but this post isn’t about mollifying egos. I am not saying that one in two men harass women, I am saying one in two women are harassed by men. Big difference.

One interesting consequence of growing older as a woman is that we often feel we have become invisible. Neither men nor women take notice of us past a certain age and while at first this can come as a bit of a shock, it eventually becomes liberating. At 51, many women would begin to feel this way. Samantha Murphy’s disappearance has struck a chord with older women, making them painfully aware of their vulnerability. By our 50s many of us feel much safer in the world and we worry more about our daughters.

I have had my share of harassment and instances of low-level violations like unwanted touching, groping and forced tongues into my mouth by men much older than me when I was a teenager. Nothing too horrendous, but these experiences made me distrustful and hyper-vigilant. I have a self-imposed curfew; I won’t walk in unlit places at night, and I still rarely go out at night by myself. While I am a strong advocate for ‘reclaim the night’, I am filled with trepidation for my daughter, who remains resolute in not allowing herself to be intimidated.

This Friday is International Women’s Day. It is a day to celebrate how far we have come but also to remember how far there is to go. It is a day when my thoughts will be with Samantha Murphy and the many other women we have lost to gendered violence. It is a day when ‘we remember that as long as one woman faces discrimination, harassment, inequality or oppression, we all do.’ https://iwda.org.au/

My solar powered watch

My solar-powered watch stopped working today. How could that be? The sun has been out every day for the past month and temperatures have soared into the mid 30s for days on end. I know it has been really hot because my air-con has been running almost non-stop for weeks. Ironically, the sun powers the air-conditioning via solar panels on the roof, yet it seems to have trouble charging my watch.

I know many people who love the heat. I’m just not one of them. Heat triggers my migraines, and I feel sluggish and uncomfortable when I go outside. Most days I work from the office, where the air-conditioning is turned up so high that I had to find a shop that sold woollen cardigans in the middle of summer. I dare not leave the house without it lest I freeze. Shopping centres, theatres and libraries are no better. The temperature can drop by 20 degrees when entering an establishment. This oddity reminds me of going to Europe in winter, where they turn up the heat so high that going to a café feels like entering a sauna. It seems we can’t get temperature regulation right.

Since Peter’s diagnosis with melanoma, I’ve been terrified of being out in the sun. For the record, that’s called heliophobia. Helio- from the Greek word Helios which means sun and phobia, also from the Greek, meaning excessive fear, in case you were wondering about its etymology. Yet even before Peter’s diagnosis, I wasn’t much of an outdoor girl. I could never cultivate a tan and burn far too easily. To the best of my knowledge, peeling skin has never been considered attractive. Maybe this has contributed to my nocturnal habits.

My watch is still at its 6:45pm impasse. Putting it under a lamp hasn’t brought it back to life. I’m now wondering how often I go outside during the day. The answer is, not that often. I walk the dog early and then again at sunset. I guess that’s not enough sunlight to recharge my watch. Maybe, like me, it’s suffering from a chronic vitamin D deficiency.