My favourite song of all time

This song is just brilliant.

On showing gratitude

I wrote yesterday about how lucky I am to have the life I have. After all I have in abundance what many only dream about. Fresh food, clean water, a comfortable home are all parts of my life that I often take for granted.

I found this post, written by David Pollay, about gratitude and how important it is as a way of improving our lives and making our world a better place. He suggests investing time identifying the people and things we value and then take the time to learn more about them. What do these people do, how, and why?

Once we commit these important people to memory we can begin to express our appreciation to them in whatever way we choose.

Finally, we can link our gratitude chains together. This is a perfect way of helping us see how that which we enjoy in life is connected in more ways than we can possibly imagine.

I wonder what the garbage guy's story is?

How lucky am I?

Today was a hot day, the hottest December day in Perth since records began. I'm writing this post in the comfort of airconditioning. Comfortable against the blazing heat thanks to the modern comfort of an energy guzzling machine. It costs money to run, just like the car.

If I lived in many other countries I wouldn't need to worry about the expense of running an airconditioner. It simply wouldn't be an option. If I lived in Indonesia or Sri Lanka there's a good chance I'd have much more fundamental things to worry about. Feeding my family, clean drinking water and a roof over my head that didn't leak would be high on the priority list.

There are so many people in this world who live through unbearable poverty and unimaginable misery. If I could just help one of them live a more comfortable life and be happier then my life would be complete.

Marty Robbins - El Paso

When I was in my teens my favourite singer was Marty Robbins. I just love this song. It's such a great tale of love and tragedy.

Johnny Cash the legend

What a classic film clip from a master.

A Christmas Grinch post

It's the first blast of summer today. Step outside and it feels as though you're stepping into a furnace. It doesn't help that I had afternoon nap. I always wake up grumpy! Now the heat feels so much more intense.

Weather like this is perfect Christmas Grinch weather. I don't like or want Christmas because...Soon, though, all this malevolence will wash through me like a crap through a sewer pipe. Then I'll feel so much better and wonder why I wrote such a grouchy blog post on Christmas day.

Good friends listen well

I have a lot to learn about listening. I'm not sure if it's a bloke thing, but I tend to listen with an ear for a solution. It's so easy to fix someone else's problems rather than simply listen.

I have a couple of friends who listen really well. They listen in a way that gives me a sense that they have an unswerving commitment to whatever it is that will bring me happiness and contentment. No judgement, no assessment, no advice. Just pure respect. At the end of a conversation I always feel lighter and refreshed.

Great listeners are a gift to this world.

Feeling good without a job

It's funny how life turns out some days. I was chatting to someone today about me not having a job. For some time now I've had a sense that perhaps I'm not as good as I thought I was and this was affecting how I felt about myself. The conversation was both timely and welcome.

One of the themes that came out of the conversation was the way society demands that we have a career. It's almost unwritten law that if we don't have a job we don't have social status. I've been feeling this a lot lately. It's even more subtle than the job-no job debate. I detect that some people place a person on a social hierarchy dependent on their job. For example, a doctor may rate highly whereas a garbage collector may rate fairly low. Why can't people simply accept one another on the basis of the human being that's before them, rather than on their appearance or job title?

Then there's the money thing. It seems to me that the more money you make, the more some people value your opinions and the higher up their pop-chart you get. Again, it's a shallow form of humanity.

From this societal expectation, it's easy to feel unwanted, unworthy, and unnoticed. At least that's the way I've been feeling. That is until my conversation. From it I took away that life is not about the work we do - although that can be an important way to generate some self esteem and provide structure for our lives. Life is all about the contribution we make.

Contribution comes in so many skins. I volunteer as a way to give back, and in the process I derive a sense of satisfaction and well being. Some people raise families and spend time with their children. Of all the work we could ever undertake, this one pays the least, but probably has the highest rewards.

From today's conversation I've formed a renewed sense of being comfortable with where my career is at and am feeling a sense of my own centre that doesn't rely on a job description or pay cheque.

The problem with relationships

Marriage on a good day can be great. On a bad day it can be War of the Roses. I've been lucky to enjoy a marriage that's been a significant contributor to my happiness. That's certainly not the case with all relationships.

Marriage vows, of the traditional form found in most Christian services, contain more lies than a job interview. Take the "to death do us part" bit. Does anyone really mean that? I don't think so. In most cases the promise is full of implied conditions such as "so long as you don't sleep with someone else" or "so long as I feel happier being here than somewhere else". Only the most new age of Christian services would include honest vows.

This "to death do us part" creates a sense of failure on the part of a couple who decide to separate. It's simply not needed and, I argue, not healthy. Surely it would be better to stay together while ever two people are committed to one another. If staying together produces greater happiness for both partners then stay together. But when when life changes, move on and stay friends. A marriage committed to "to death to us part" is pointless. A marriage committed to one another's happiness and well-being makes sense and contributes to a better world.

This thinking works for all kinds of relationships. Intimate partnerships, friendships, work, you name it, a relationship founded on a promise to stay together for a life time is simply not realistic. Better to start off with a dose of reality and make sensible commitments than set oneself up for continual failure. Sure, commit to another person's life time happiness, just not to a life time in the same bed.

Did I make a difference?

Today I had a conversation with a young man. He's a young man with a troubled history. One of those histories that you hope your unborn kids don't inherit.

The start of this story is the first time a needle touched his skin. The first buzz of the craziness of a line of speed. The slow, smooth wash of a cone laden with ganja. And from each of these firsts came a life slipping, sliding, scrambling, and slithering into a life of blurred senses and frightening criminal actions. A life, once full of promise, that today clambers for the tiniest of recognition beyond bars.

Life in these surrounds seems at first to be desperate and hopeless. Each day turns into the next with only the sun's slow arc across the sky to set them apart. Hope is what is read in a magazine and life is what is enjoyed by others.

But this young man is different. In his eyes is a steely resolve to start anew, to be something more - or just to be normal. Sometimes even the most mundane goals are those from seeds of the greatest tree of inspiration.

His are goals to be merely normal. To contribute in ways that the most ordinary of the free take for granted. And in this struggle to be normal and average is a struggle to learn the skills that many boring, pedestrian, mundane successful people take for granted.

Forget the grand, forget the eloquent. Just let's make it to tomorrow in a way that leaves this young man proud to be just ordinary.

In my heart of hearts I hope I'm there to cheer him on and to make that tiny bit of difference. In so doing I hope that his life becomes the most beautiful, ordinary life there is.

Ban plastic water containers?

It's easy to complain about life, to be critical but do nothing to make a change. That's exactly what I was beginning to do several weeks ago. I climb Jacob's Ladder at least three times a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings at 6am. Jacob's Ladder is an amazing place. At the top the views of the river and city are sensational and on a crisp, clear morning I love being part of the sun peeking over the Darling Scarp and bringing myself to life with the sound of birds and people doing good things for their health.

When I climb stairs I tend to look down. It's a smart thing to do. And that's when I began to notice the amount of litter under Jacob's Ladder. There were pieces of paper, glass bottles and plastic drink containers. Actually, make that lots, and lots, and lots of plastic drink containers. Under bushes and shrubs, under the stairs, in the grass. All over the place. And that's when I started to complain to myself.

Why isn't the council doing something about this? Someone should do something about this mess. Should, should, should. Then I got to thinking that, rather then simply wish for something different I could do something about it. I'll phone the council and ask them to get someone out there. But that could take ages so I thought why not just clean it up myself?

And that's exactly what I did. Over the next few visits to the ladder I took some big green garbage bags and cleaned the place up. Now, each time I climb the ladder I keep a look out for plastic drink bottles and collect them and throw them in the bin. It feels great to keep a little part of this beautiful place in the world looking clean and tidy.

Now the question is, how do we get rid of the water bottles in the first place? My challenge to anyone is to observe the litter on the side of a road or footpath. In most cases much of it will be plastic drink containers. If keeping our part of the world clean is not motivation enough how can we create an incentive for people to recycle/reuse/collect these containers. I'll bet if we had a clever solution there could be a great little business in people collecting drink containers to claim a reward. Outside of a small incentive for people to return them to a collection depot, as they do in South Australia, I'm not sure how else it could be done.

What a mango asks about carrots and water

It's just started to rain. That light rain that slowly gets heavier and heavier and where the air is still and thick. A thunder storm is not far away.

The weather has little to do with eating a mango. Eating a mango in the tropical heat of an impending summer storm feels the right thing to do though. Almost as if I'm in the tropics far away - just me and my thoughts and mango juice dripping from my hands and down my arms. It's luxury to eat so decadently.

This mango came from Derby. It was plucked from a tree by a friend and boxed up with a dozen or so other South bound mangoes. Just as fresh and as ripe and as chemical free as can be. Perfect.

All this mango heaven got me thinking about carrots - and water. My nephew brought around a fresh garden carrot the other day. Plucked from their garden and brought right to our front door you'd think it would just be the tastiest, crunchiest carrot in existence. But it's not. Within no time at all it was soft and soggy and you'd barely contemplate eating it. I got to asking "why does this carrot, so fresh from the ground and so free of chemicals, get to be so soggy when the ones we buy in the shop stay crisp and strong for so long?" What's the difference?

Which brought me to water. The other night on the tube there was a feature on fluoridation of water. Here in Perth our water is fluoridated. We don't get to chose if we want it fluoridated or not - it just is. And this brings me back to carrots. I don't know what's in those shop-bought carrots that are so crisp and taste so fresh. Are they genetically modified? Do they contain chemicals that could be doing me harm? Why do they stay so crisp?

Of course I'll probably never know the answer. But one thing I do know is that mango was simply delicious. And being that it was plucked from a tree in a back yard, untouched and unpreserved by chemicals it was a real gift to enjoy.

Sometimes hope is hard to find

I was driving to my IT guys office today and saw something that gave me reason to think maybe we shouldn't be hopeful about the future. I should probably firstly say that I'm usually a positive person. In most circumstances I can see how the human spirit can, and usually does, triumph over adversity. But today was a bit different.

My travels took me through Rivervale, a working class suburb of Perth, but one that isn't particularly rugged or rough, and one where you could expect to drive trough without too many problems. What I saw shocked me. In broad daylight and in full view of the public, I saw a young man shooting up on the sidewalk. It wasn't so much the drug taking - there's plenty of that happening. It wasn't even so much where it happened. After all, even wealthy suburbs are full of drugs. I guess what unsettled me was the apparent hopelessness of the scene. Here was a young man with his life in front of him and all he could see was the point of a needle plunging in to his arm in order to get high. I just thought that, if that's the future of our country and our planet, then we don't have much of a future.

I'm really not sure what to make of this but I guess what I saw is a very small unrepresentative sample of today's youth. What I didn't see is all though young people working at creating a future for themselves by studying or working at a trade or generally contributing to society. I hope to continue to set an example to give the world a better future.

First year finished

That's it, the first year of my Master's degree is now officially over and I'm now waiting on my final marks. The last essay I handed in was a disaster. I was just so over studies by the time I got around to writing that I couldn't get my thoughts straight. There were points mentioned twice and the flow was really awful, but hey, it's done. Now I'm looking for a job.

Last night I jumped onto Seek and found a few short term contract jobs that look interesting. Will make a few calls shortly to make some inquiries.

I stacked my bike this morning

That's right, a crash. Riding along the same path I always ride on with a highly experienced rider next to me on my right, he decides he wants to turn left with no indication whatsoever. He bumps me hard and I end up climbing - then crashing - over an island in the middle of the road and take some bark off my knuckles and shin, he hits the deck hard on his left shoulder. He thought it may have been dislocated, but rode off anyway.

It's just one of those random things that happen in life.

Information, Policy, and Power in the Informational State

Article has a small comment on the way society is moving from a Panopticon to a Panspectron.

028_Braman_Chapt9.pdf (application/pdf Object)

Reflections from an ordinary mind: Bloggers' Expectations of Privacy and Accountability: An Initial Survey

Reflections from an ordinary mind: Bloggers' Expectations of Privacy and Accountability: An Initial Survey

Demons that grounded Eagles | The Australian

With the backdrop of the untimely death of West Coast Eagles Club legend, Chris Mainwairing, this poignant article raises questions about how the club will respond in a meaningful way to the party culture that surrounds the franchise. There's probably more to this story than we will ever know, or want to know, but it does give plenty of weight to the idea of trading players that continually flout team rules - before it's too late.

Demons that grounded Eagles | The Australian

Eagles struggle to hold sponsors - realfooty.com.au

This link was sent to me by my good mate Jay Wood. It's what everyone has suspected would happen. Of course the ANZ would say that their withdrawal had nothing to do with drugs but if they were getting value for money from their sponsorship - read well disciplined players that reflected their corporate values - the money wouldn't be an object. Sponsorship arrangements are a package and the Eagles are dudding sponsors at the moment. Until they get their act together and send a message to the corporate community that they're serious about their problems, they'll continue to experience corporations questioning their investment in the club.

Eagles struggle to hold sponsors - realfooty.com.au

Eagles disown Mainwaring problems - AFL - Fox Sports

You've gotta love it. When things go pear-shaped why is it that so many leaders lay blame and justify when they could take responsibility for themselves and the problem and achieve something positive? And while the Eagles are ducking for cover, no-one's asking what roll Channel 7 has played in this terrible event? Many claim the Eagles have a drug culture problem, but what about the TV network? We'll probably never hear about that.

Eagles disown Mainwaring problems - AFL - Fox Sports

On Foucault - Discipline and Punsih

To most this post will male little or no sense. These are my notes on reading parts of Discipline and Punish: The birth of the prison by Michael Foucault. Random House, Toronto 1977.

Torture

Punishment - public punishment that reflected the crime. Ritualised marks of vengeance applied to the body of the criminal. Reflected and reinforced the power of the monarch and was often above the laws which it proposed to uphold - torture. The punitive city.

The spectacle - Full of symbolism as a way of instructing the public and reinforcing the relationship between crime and punishment.


Prisons as a regimen to ensure compliant, obedient behaviour aimed at reforming a person through their giving themselves to the system. Coercion, training of the body as a way of changing the mind. Prisons represent the the institutionalisation of the will to punish p. 130

Discipline

Usually requires an enclosure, a heterogeneous space. Army barracks, workshops, factories, monasteries

Each person has a space and each space a person. Establishes presences and absences and sets up control.

Spaces are defined for things and processes. Each space a thing and each thing a space.

Timetables and the control of activity

Work takes on religious airs. Time-tables used to establish rhythm and control in schools, workplaces.

The body controls the gesture and the object of articulation and therefore must be disciplined to achieve the optimum outcome.

Discipline draws up tables, prescribes movement, imposes exercises, and arranges tactics p. 167

The exercise of discipline necessarily involves a mechanism of observation by a form of hierarchy that, in the process of observing gives power to the observer and the means of coercion makes the observed observable. Organisations are set up to maximise the surveillance by the hierarchy of the governed in a manner that is least intrusive but that maximises the surveillance. Embedding of surveillance. The whole apparatus is set up to maximise observation whilst giving the illusion of freedom. eg the creation of openings and spaces which permitted freedom and surveillance. p. 173. The pyramid organisation set up to maximise surveillance and minimise disruption to organisation.

A structure of normalisation creates a way to measure individual differences and allows for standardisation and the development of specialists through the achievement of this 'normal' behaviour p. 184

Where power is anonymous and functional, those on whom it is exercised become more individuated. Power is exercised through surveillance and observation rather than ritual and commemoration, by the measurement against a norm. Individuation arises from the degree that a person differs from the norm. p. 193

The Panopticon

"Visibility is a trap" p. 200

A way of inducing a permanent sensation of being watched that generates the power of the watcher. The feeling that surveillance is continuous even if it isn't. The power is therefore visible but unverifiable. The person need not know they are being watched, just believe that is the case. Therefore, the watching does not need to be continuous.

The panopticon is a machinery that ensures disequilibrium.

Because the prisoner believes they are being constantly watched they become their own prison guard and therefore the mechanism of power and control and prison administration can be smaller and lighter.

The panopticon becomes a place where society can keep itself continually surveilled - the Internet. Each person can keep the other under watch. It works best when surveillance is light and unseen.

Panopticon as a metaphor for self?

I'll let you go now

While I'm in the mood, what is it with people who "politely" end a conversation by saying "I'll let you go now"? How condescending is that? How is it that they see another person as a possession that can be let go? Why do they imagine that they had the person captured in the first place? And why do they believe that they are the person who gets to say when a person stays or leaves? I say to these "polite" people - say it as it is. If you're bored with a conversation end the conversation by all means, but don't pretend that it's for someone else's benefit. If you're really busy, say so - then go. Ending a conversation with "I'll let you go" is simply a weak mind's attempt to be socially acceptable. Find something original to say.

I'm leaving now.

West Coast - trade Cousins while you can

I'm tipping that Ben Cousins will be traded to the east by the end of trade week. He's too much of a risk for the West Coast to keep on the list. It seems that he's never too far away from trouble and you'd suspect that another slip from the star could see the club lose favour with a major sponsor. Rather than wait, the club would be better off getting a good trade deal for him and pick up a youngster an experienced small forward in his place. Cousins would provide the likes of the Tiges or the Saints with some mid-field power and the move could well be good for Cousins by getting him away from the circle of people in Perth that got him into trouble in the first place. It's a win all round.

Besides that, Worsfold must be fuming (not to mention sad) that one of his grand final brothers is no longer with us. By sending Cousins East, he sends a powerful message to other players that mis-behaviour will no longer be tolerated. One would wonder if the Cousins fiasco earlier this year was what tipped Judd to leave the club. It's no stretch of the imagination that it was, and the club is worse off for his departure.

Just got onto Tumblr. Thought I'd give the feed a lash, see if it's working.

21st Century Citizen

As a part time greenie, I was impressed by this site that I found while being on Twitter. I'm really impressed that these people are taking the time to write about practical steps we can all take to reduce our impact on the planet. I'm also impressed by the way this guy is getting the message out and creating a conversation about sustainability. It's the topic of some of my posts on my business blog.

When elephants fight, the grass suffers.

When will our political leaders leave partisan politics aside on the important issues?

Kiva.org - Sergei Nartya

What a fantastic idea. Check this out and we'll talk about it later.

Kiva.org - Sergei Nartya

Rudd does a Clinton

Tonight on the 7.30 Report, Prime Ministerial wannabe, Kevin Rudd, created Australia's version of Bill Clinton's "I did not have sexual relations with that woman". Following allegations that he visited a New York strip club in a drunken state, his appearance in front of hard-hitting ABC front man, Kerry O'brien, was attempt to make sure the issue disappears quickly. Rudd claims to have had a "cordial" dinner with his two mates. Yeah right! If the truth be known they got smashed off their tit and trash talked their way to the strip joint. And here's where his story gets really clear and really fuzzy all at once. Firstly he says that he'd a fair bit to drink - too much in fact. So much so that, when asked by O'brien whether he could he remember seeing lap dancers, his response was that he couldn't remember seeing anything that you wouldn't see in most Aussie pubs in the past 20 years. Jeez Kev, not sure what pubs you've been going to, but sounds like they're interesting places indeed. Then suddenly his memory gets all vivid again when he reiterates (read: repeat over, and over, and over until the interviewer gets tired and moves on) that he can categorically say that he can recall that absolutely nothing inappropriate whatsoever happened. Nothing? Yes, nothing inappropriate. But if he can't remember the strippers - and let's face it, it was a strip club so they must have been there - how can he know or remember that nothing inappropriate happened? But more interestingly, if nothing inappropriate happened then why did he feel the need to call his wife the next day and confess to his mistake. Surely Kev, if all you'd done is go to the pub and have a few too many drinks, with nothing inappropriate happening then there's really no need for confessionals. Unless, of course, you're not telling us all there is to know.

The Dockers can play football

Last weekend the Dockers showed what they can do by beating the Eagles by 27 points. But the real question is - why did they leave it until this late in the season to finally play with a bit of heart and passion. Despite Matthew Pavlich being well held for most of the game the Dockers played a brand of footy that wins matches.

Can they maintain the rage for the rest of the season. If I was a betting man I'd say no. They've got the Bombers this weekend who've got a chance of making the 8 whereas the Dockers have almost no chance.

If they had some heart they'd let Troy Cook play the last three games of the season to give him life membership.

Back at school

Back at Uni and putting the time into reading and writing. Submitted my first assessment piece today and feeling more focussed on the end result rather than the process - a bit more strategic than usual. I want to keep my results up to match what I achieved last semester. Can I do a PhD? Not sure at this stage. It seems like such a long haul to go for another Masters degree then do a 3-4 year thesis on top of that. I'll be 48 by the time I finish school. Bloody hell!

Why I don't want daylight saving: Number 1

This morning my alarm roused me from sleep at 5:20, as it does most mornings. I get out of bed this early to climb the 243 steps of Jacob's Ladder in Kings Park. It keeps me fit and probably healthier than if I'd stayed in bed to do nothing. But what's this got to do with daylight saving? It's simple really. While I was at the top of the ladder this morning, I made the observation to one of my fellow stair climbers that the sky appeared lighter. It's one of those things that I've come to expect; that I'll be exercising in the dark during winter. I leave home in the dark, workout in the dark, and arrive home before the sun has had a chance to rise in the East. And that's why I once looked forward to summer. It gave me a chance to exercise in the cool of a summer morning, to watch the early morning awakening of nature, and to enjoy that peaceful calm that only the early morning just on daybreak can bring. But with daylight saving I'm largely robbed of this precious time. Just when I start to enjoy the dawn again I'm forced back to exercising in the dark. So what I once looked forward to, longed for, and treasured, has been stolen from me.

I don't want daylight saving. It robs me of the bliss of exercising in the light during much of summer.

I'm tired

Long day, first back at Uni.

I'm tired now so I'm going to bed.

Goodnight

Thank Evans for Cadel

He's done it! Cadel Evans has taken second place in the Tour. What a legend. If you haven't seen the time trial there's some great video footage at SBS where you can see one of the grittiest, gutsiest rides to hold out Levi Leipheimer for second place. Evans is now part of Australian cycling folklore and is sure to inspire lots of young riders to get on their bikes and get fit.

Cadel, we salute you.

Le Tour de Farce

Could the Tour de France get more fascinating - or more farcical? Firstly Alexandre Vinokourov has been expelled from the race for failing a doping test, and now the leader, Michael Rasmussen, has been sacked by his own team for breaking team rules and lying to them about his whereabouts during a time he was to have submitted to a drugs test. Rasmussen must be feeling shattered! Two years ago he had a time trial from hell in the penultimate stage of the Tour which cost him a place on the podium. And now, with the yellow fleece glued firmly to his back, he's been sacked, costing him an almost certain win in the most prestigious bike race in the world.

Now all that remains is to see if Cadel Evans can bridge a gap of just under 2 minutes in the final time trial of the Tour. If Evans stands on the podium in Paris, it will be the best result by an Aussie ever. C'mon Cadel, you can do it!

What are the Federal Police up to?

Well, what a surprise, the Federal Police are now being asked how Doctor Haneef's diary got to read like a who's-who of global terrorism. As usual, the doctor is protesting his innocence, but his reputation is now in tatters. The weekend leak of a suggestion that he was involved in a plot to blow up buildings in Queensland was quickly, and conveniently, rebutted by the Fed's, but not before alarm bells were ringing for the good folk of the sunshine state. In the meantime Doctor Haneef will need a new bladder, after being used a political football for the past few weeks. Where's Labor I hear you ask? Obviously the polls are saying the matter hasn't gained sufficient traction for it to be worthwhile taking a punt (pardon the pun).

Is Haneef to become our next Hicks?

What a video - Battle at Kruger

If you've got 10 minutes to spare this YouTube video is well worth watching. It starts out a little slowly, as many African safari videos do, but there's an amazing twist. Hang in there. Well worth while.

Le Tour de France

How good is Cadel Evans?! Now only 1:14 seconds from having the leader's yellow jersey on his back after a magnificent time trial, where he finished second, Evans now has a real chance of winning the Tour. If he can do well in the Pyrenees over the next few days we may be seeing an Aussie on the podium in France.

And congratulations to SBS for a the terrific coverage of every stage live. It's great to see some of the worlds great athletes battle it out in one of the worlds most grueling sporting events.

Fremantle Dockers look for new coach

Well here's some news that's about 12 months too late. Chris Connolly has resigned as the coach of the Fremantle Dockers - and not before time. I'm sure Chris is a great guy but his performance at the helm of what should be, one of the best football clubs in the AFL has been poor. With the list he's had at his disposal including Black, Pavlich, Hedland, and Tarrant, Connolly should have been crushing all before him. Instead, he's allowed the Dockers to slip out of contention of finals football this year. As much as it's a poor reflection on his skills as a coach, it's also a poor reflection on the executive of the club, who persistently tolerate honorable losses and excuse poor performance.

The Dockers are high on passion, but poor on performance. It's time they stopped their pretense at being an AFL club and gave their loyal supports a finals dividend.

Howard on the back foot over Haneef

What a master stroke. As reported on the ABC's The 7-30 Report this evening, barrister for Doctor Haneef, Steven Kime, has released the transcript of his police interview - with the predictable hand-wringing and tut-tutting from the Prime Minister, Attorney General Phillip Ruddock, and the Federal Police Commissioner, Mick Keelty. All accuse Mr Kime of being variously unethical, working against the chances of Haneef getting a fair trial, and being disrespectful of the legal system. Well if that's not the pot calling the kettle black, it's hard to know what it is. Doctor Haneef has been granted bail by the courts and it was the Immigration Minister, Kevin Andrews who, on hearing this news, cancelled Doctor Haneef's passport. The effect of this is to make Doctor Haneef the highest profile suspect in Australia today, and that makes his chances of receiving a fair trial even more difficult.

It's actions such as these by the Federal government which are showing how far Howard and his colleagues are willing to go to get re-elected - even to the point of manipulating executive powers to prosecute their political ends.

Mohamed Haneef

Walking the dog this morning, I met up with a lady who works with aboriginal communities in the North West of Western Australia. As our dogs played, we got talking about the way the Howard government is handling the problems faced by aboriginal communities in the Northern Territory, and her view, quite understandably, was that Howard's solutions are short-sighted and politically motivated. And this lead to a chat about the plight of Doctor Mohamed Haneef. Doctor Haneef has been charged with '"recklessly" supporting a terrorist organisation, with the Australian Federal Police alleging he supported foiled plans to detonate truck bombs in Britain'. If he is proven to be guilty, then he deserves to be punished - terrorism is a despicable, weak, and cowardly crime that has no place in modern society. However, our justice system relies on the presumption of innocence and, at this stage, Doctor Haneef is innocent. Furthermore, the magistrate who heard Doctor Haneef's bail application obviously saw a very different person to the person seen by our immigration minister, Kevin Andrews. In what could quite easily be seen as a political stunt, Mr Andrews revoked Doctor Haneef's visa, resulting in Doctor Haneef's incarceration in an immigration detention centre. How convenient.

Let's not forget that this is an election year. In the 2001 election, Mr Howard sailed home to victory at the helm of the Tampa, and Doctor Haneef is being set up to be Mr Howard's Tampa II. The line will be that we now have a terrorist in custody, someone that could have killed innocent Australians. Just as he did last night on the 7:30 report, Mr Andrews and his Liberal colleagues will be very sketchy when pushed for details about why they've made the decision to revoke his visa. They will hint at his poor character, at the atrocities committed by his second cousin, and the dangers we face - all as a way of drumming up fear that they know full well wins elections.

What will sadly go unchallenged is the manner in which our judicial system has been treated with contempt by those in power. In the context of threats to our society, Doctor Haneef is a tiny risk compared to prostate cancer, depression, youth suicide, and motor neurone disease. But because he represents something that generates so much uncertainty, so much mistrust, and so much fear, he is the unwitting pawn in a political power play that is set to destroy his career and any hope of financial independence for his family. Guilty or innocent, Doctor Haneef and the Australian public deserve more respect than what they're receiving from the Howard government.

A need for speed

For most boys, the allure of a go-kart is speed. Build one, find the biggest, longest hill with a (preferably) paved road, then try to break the land speed record. It's a basic recipe, but one sure to add salt and pepper to an otherwise boring show and tell on Monday morning. But being raised on a farm created logistical problems for a budding speed freak. Firstly, there was the issue of the hill. Our farm was pretty much dead flat. Next, there was no real road. Sure there was the track that lead from the front gate to the house but it was sandy and, like the rest of the farm, flat. Not the perfect recipe for go-karting.

As in most rural communities, adults and kids alike rely on ingenuity. Take for example the cocky gate. It's a gate made almost entirely of wire with a piece of wood as a lever to stretch the gate across the opening, and a piece of timber at each end to give the wire in the middle a type of frame. It's not the flashest gate you'll ever see, but gates of this type of stopped more mongrel wethers than you and I could ever imagine.

Which brings us back to the matter of how to get a go-kart to go fast without the aid of gravity. My go-kart didn't have an engine. The ones at the Esperance Show did. They were noisy and went around in small circles before your twenty cent ride ran out. Sure they could be made to go a bit quick, but for a family who couldn't afford running hot and cold water, buying a kid a Briggs and Stratton engine for a go-kart was not an option.

My go-kart looked fast. It had pram wheels on the front and back. The back ones were a bit bigger than the front. John made it so it looked like a drag car with a seat that sat on top of a long piece of 4x2 that joined the front and back axles. It was a bit flash - it even had coil spring suspension under the seat. These springs were scavenged from the Ravensthorpe tip where we also found the pram wheels. The faster we went, the more wheels we went through, so we were at the tip as often as we could.

So here I was with a fast-looking go-kart - with suspension - ready for speed. It was almost a case of being all dressed up with no place to go. Then we found the engine. Not a four stroke engine, but a four legged engine. Our family had grown up with horses. Ever since I can remember Dad has had a horse, or two, or three, or four. I always figured that Dad's life was perfect so long as he had a dog, a gun, a horse, and a kangaroo to chase - oh, and Mum of course. So John got to thinking that instead of pushing the go-kart, why not pull it with a horse. Great idea I thought. So he drilled a hole through the 4x2, attached a rope, and away we went.

Most people are aware that horses can gallop pretty fast. Most hacks can do 40 kilometres per hour easily. Now this may not sound fast in the family sedan on a paved road, but when you're a matter of 1o feet behind four thundering hooves, just 4 inches off the ground, racing across a bumpy paddock, dodging bushes and mallet stumps it's fast. Add to the equation a horse that was an ex-galloper, no helmet, a crazy brother in total control of the 'accelerator', and a 10 year old kid that got blown away in a stiff breeze, you had the recipe for some high speeds, amazing spills, and great stories.

We had no need after that for hills, or roads, or engines. We had the most powerful 1 horse power go-kart in the world. Mine was a world of speed, exhilaration and daring. It was a world most city kids could only ever dream about.

Destiny

Destiny. A word that has so much romantic connotation. A word that has a sense of our being out of control. A word that hints that we are merely pawns in the grand plan of the universe. A word that suggests so much, and yet so little, possibility.

What is our destiny? What is my destiny? To answer that question I draw on a moment of reflection, a moment when my mind was still and clear, where thoughts fade into a pure moment, where nothing exists but the sound of morning birds and buzzing traffic. A moment when the voice inside stills and gives way to the gentle, rhythmic patterns of my breath, to the sound of the tingle in my fingers. This moment was all there was - nothing more than just this.

Then the voice returned and the mind began labeling the sounds as traffic and birds and the purity left. Left but not forgotten. Replaced with a soft, gentle realisation that nothing comes about except through conversation. Through conversations had with friends and neighbours, with lovers and colleagues, and between our internal selves. It is these conversations that turn into the stories we make about our life and our history; our existence and our being.

How true they are is just another conversation. Just another story. Whether or not the story is real is entirely mine to chose. My response to these stories and circumstances create my destiny for tomorrow. It's mine to choose.

Life skills

Yesterday I was talking to a young man who was a particularly articulate, passionate, and convincing orator. His passion was helping society break the relentless and seemingly endless cycle of violence. He was passionate about delivering courses designed to help people see there are other choices to resolve differences rather than resorting to violence. He wants to bring these courses to schools across the country so young people can gain useful life skills that would help them make better decisions in life. The effects of this strategy, he believes, will be to reduce the deep scar on society that is caused through violent crime, and to help people proactively choose to live a more peaceful and fulfilling life. This young man has no qualifications. He has no university degree and yet his insights into life and the possibility he sees for society are as exciting as they are profound. And what gives his message even greater weight is the fact that he has spent all of his adult life in jail for a terrible crime. His passion for making a positive contribution to society as a way of making amends is inspirational and I only hope that our law makers and legislators will listen to his message rather than seeing him as a criminal.

Guns aren't welcome on school buses

That sure is a scary heading. In 2007, just after 30 odd people were shot by a crazy gunman in the US, it seems almost foolish to write a story that takes a light-hearted look at the day I tried to take a gun to school. But that's exactly what I'm going to do.

Back in the early 1970s, Jerdacuttup Primary School was a tiny two roomed transportable building with a flat tin roof and a rain water tank for drinking water that was the grave for the odd dead lizard. The rooms were square and each had jarrah floors that made the sound of slamming desk lids seem that much louder. During the winter we were cold and during summer we melted in the far from well-designed shelters. But that was life at Jerdy primary. Thirty odd kids - and yes some of us were odd - especially yours truly.

It was in grade four or five that we were given a project by our then headmaster Mr Jones. He was a thick-set, red-headed, short-strutting, tough-nut footballer who loved nothing better than to dish out shirt fronts on a footy field, and, whilst I didn't rate him highly as a teacher, I admired the way he went about his work in a game of football. One to be feared that Mr Jones! So when we were told we were to do a project about anything in social studies a few of us boys got together and began to nut out what to do. We all lived on farms so we were never going to read about Shakespeare. No, we wanted a boys project. And being that we'd all used guns on the farm, we thought they would make the perfect project. After all, there were plenty of what we considered pests at the time, eating our parents crops and pastures, or wreaking havoc on new born lambs. Guns it had to be!

At the time, our tiny library contained a single set of encyclopedia which we thought would be our best resource. We grabbed one of the thick, heavy books off the shelf and went to work trying to find out a little more about guns and rifles. Being that we didn't have a photocopier we thought it would look pretty impressive to trace an image of an old rifle to add a picture to our project. So that's what we did. Using a piece of tracing paper and a lead pencil, we fashioned an image of what for us was the ultimate farming tool. But when we looked at this puny facsimile of that which captured our imagination we were left flat. We were devastated to see that our art had so utterly failed to embody the essence of what our project was all about. What a let down! Then the brain wave hit me. If we're doing a project on guns, why not bring one to school!? That would be the ultimate way of showing the other kids what a firearm was and how it operated. What a great idea! I explained to the other boys that we owned an air-rifle with a sawn off barrel. It still worked, I enthused. I claimed that it would be perfectly OK to bring to school being that it was only an air rifle, and besides, we only ever used wheat or oats as ammunition. It was perfect. And without a voice of dissent - and thinking it probably best not to ask Mr Jones - the plan was in place. So the next morning, there I was at the bus stop on that lonely stretch of gravel road, school bag in one hand and air rifle in the other. I was going to do well in show and tell today.

When the bus finally arrived, I could hardly wait to get on. The bus driver though, didn't share my enthusiasm. Mr Dow calmly advised me that it would probably be best to leave the gun behind, and suggested that I hide it in the bush under the letter box - which I did. It didn't occur to me, when we finally arrived at school, why Mr Dow and Mr Jones were in such a long, concerted conversation after dropping us kids off. But then again, I've never been the quickest thinker.

I never did try to take a gun to school again. I took lassos and whips, but never a gun. And as I look back on those days I remember them being innocent, and full of fun and adventure. If someone tried to take a gun to school today it would probably be with anger and ill-intent. There'd be police and psychologists, court and a government inquiry, and someone would probably end up in jail. But back in 1973, at Jerdy primary, it was just shrugged off, and life went on as usual. It was a way of life that was practical and uncomplicated, where everyone looked out for each other and shared a genuine, earthy sense of humour. It was a way of life that today is only ever captured in fictional stories of the outback. A way of life I'm proud to say I lived.

Mum wants a story

Mum called today. She wants me to write a story about my life as a young kid growing up on our farm at Jerdacuttup, which is a tiny farming community in the South East of Western Australia. Apparently one of the ladies down at Jerdy is putting a book together about life in a pioneer rural community and needs some help with some of the stories from people who lived in the area when it was just bush and old tractors. So why not? Over the next few days I'll share a few of these stories.

I choose to give freely of my time

Today was a day of reflection. Reflection on my motivations. Reflections on what's important. Reflections on the affects of my needs and wants. I'd been feeling unappreciated with the work I do on a volounteer basis in my wife's business, and therefore took myself and our dog to the park for a little wander and silent contemplation. As I sat and listened to the sounds of the birds and the passing cars, I realised that the reason I was doing volounteer work were my reasons, and mine alone. Yes, it's nice to be appreciated but I didn't volounteer for the accolades. I volounteer to help someone who has supported me over many years. I volounteer as a small way of saying thanks for all the years my wife has been patient with me. I volounteer as a way of expressing my appreciation and supporting her growth. To expect an instant return on this investment of time is to treat the natural order of life as a business. It's a way of showing doubt in the law of cause and effect, and a way of desiring to reap before one sows.

So I choose to give freely, joyfully, and selflessly of my time, without expectation of return. I will observe the affects of my actions and have faith that all will work out perfectly.

Being strong and letting go

The landlord at our business is making demands that I believe are unreasonable. Whilst they may be technically correct - possibly - it still doesn't make what they are asking for fair. So at what point do we stop fighting for what is fair and concede to their requests in order to achieve peace? This has always been a delicate balancing act for me. How far do I go to protect my own interests and where do I concede in order to move on?

The answer probably lies in what is a win for both of us. As a corporation, the landlord probably has little in the way of social conscience and a sense of what's fair and reasonable. So it's important for me to have an understanding of what's a win for us and to be clear on that. I sense that it's a moral victory that I'm trying to achieve - a kind of "I won't let the school bully order me around." If this is the case then it's probably better to look at the bigger picture. What are the downsides to a victory of this kind? What other ways could this conflict be imagined?

This is one of those nights I'll go to bed with a little uncertainty, but over the next day or so things will become clearer.

Compassion for prisoners

In my spare time I volounteer for a small charitable organisation which provides support to long term male prisoners in their efforts to rehabilitate into society. Many of these men have spent most, and in some cases all, of their adult life in prison; so the prospect for them of being released back into society is harrowing. In some cases they have never used an ATM, never surfed the Internet, and never connected utilities in their own name. If not supported, many would find their way back to prison, at the expense of another innocent victim, and at the expense of the chance they may have of one day sharing at least a slightly "normal" future.

I see my role as being a listener, a role model, and someone who they can relate to as being non-judgemental and accepting of their fundamental humanity. I believe that, inside every human being, beats the pure heart of someone who wants the best for themselves and their family and friends. By closing our hearts to people who have committed serious crimes we rob them of the possibility of being someone better, of being someone who can contribute and love. And in so doing we increase the likelihood of them re-offending, thus deepening the scar on society, themselves, and their victims.

At times, it's difficult to look with genuine compassion into the eyes of someone who has murdered, raped, or molested. It's a struggle to move beyond the automatic response of judgement. But if I can do this and it helps just one of these men change and begin making a positive contribution to society and living a life of possibility and responsibility, I will feel well satisfied.

Fear

Someone close to me just sent me an email that was short and abrupt and badly thought out. Although I'm confident that the email wasn't intended to cause offense, it was obviously written while this person was upset and aggravated about something over which they had no control. It's often when we are confused, fearful, or angry that we behave in ways that are out of character.

The lesson for me is to never send an email in anger. Doing so rarely works out for the good. Sure, write it, type it, then save it and come back to it a day or two later. Let at least one night's sleep pass before pressing the send button. At least by then the heart rate has dropped, most of the symptoms of anger have faded, and what is sent is a reflection of our true values and some thoughtful consideration.

I for one will be leaving this email alone for a day or two, and then I might have a coffee with my friend to work out what's really at issue. Two angry people don't make for a calm world.

Creating a blog that works

I've now managed to set up my Google Ad Sense account. Any day now there'll be a big fat cheque arrive in the mail from all the advertising revenue this blog's earned. No? Isn't that how it works? God, I must have been mislead. Never mind, it's set up and that's a small step taken toward finding out more about how blogs can be put to good affect.

Here's a few things I have on my To Do list for the blog, most of which I haven't done before.

• Post a vlog on my blog
• Build my website
  
• Have my blog feed to my website
• Increase the number of places my blog can be found
• Add some pics

There's a few and I know there's heaps more. I've found some excellent ideas at problogger which I'm working through for some more tips.

Part of my reason for working on this blog is to find out how I can utilise blogs in my wife's business. Rita owns an interest in a small group of new age giftware stores and wants help in setting up a web site. I want to create something that's way more than a corporate brochure - a place where people can experience something really unique and exciting and immersive.

I'm excited

I'm a bit like Big Kev at the moment - excited. There's so much to know about blogs and website, RSS feeds and Ad Sense that it could do a guys head in. So I'm just going to dive in head first and see what happens.

I've decided to make blogger my home for the time being. Ideally I'll have all this stuff on my own site but for the moment this is the most cost effective option. My next project is to get Ad Sense up and running so I can start earning a bit of coin. And being that I haven't had a paid job since January, that's not a bad thing!

Is it human nature to be prejudiced?

I confess. I'm a non-practicing real estate agent. But, just because I know longer work in the industry, doesn't mean that I'm not sensitive to comments about agents and their ethics. After all, I have lots of friends who are agents, and I've invested most of my adult in the industry.

Sitting in a coffee lounge this afternoon, I overheard two gentlemen discussing real estate. There were bits and pieces of the conversation entering and leaving my awareness, but the bit that caught my attention most went something like; "oh, he's a real estate agent. You'd expect him to..." It got me thinking about the way humans tend to categorise others and the way this leads to prejudice. After all, it's easy to attribute traits to another person on the basis of the colour of their skin, where they're from, their religious beliefs, or their sexual preferences. It takes little thought and conveniently explains behaviour that would otherwise take effort to understand.

The problem with thinking that categorises is that, if it can be proven that just one person out of a population does not share the expected traits, then it cannot be concluded that all will display the trait. Why is this important? It means that each person is a unique human being, independent of their inherited body or chosen religious beliefs. We can each make individual choices about our actions, our behaviour, our attitude, and our future free from the influence of our past. In that regard, we are all equal and deserve to be treated fairly, impartially, and respectfully, without being burdened by the poisonous filter of prejudice.

If we can look beyond the physical, we will see that we are all Jews and all Muslims. We are all Christians and all pagans. We are all black and all white. All Asian and all Hispanic. In each is all and in all each. By looking at one another as though we're looking at ourselves we break down the need for anger and violence, fighting and wars knowing that we hurt ourselves while hurting another.

Let's try letting go of prejudice.

Climate change and common sense

There was an interesting article in yesterday's daily paper, the West Australian. Now the West, admittedly, is known for its right wing stance on pretty much everything. It's pro-big business, pro-development, pro-conservative government, and any time it has a chance to belt a lefty, lesbo, homo, greeny or libertarian around the ears, that's exactly what it does. I'm all for freedom of speech; don't get me wrong, but yesterday's story was a classic. There's plenty of evidence to support that our climate is changing - for the worse - as a result of green-house gas emissions. From Al Gore to our local CSIRO, Australia's peak scientific organisation, there's plenty of warnings of the consequences if we fail to change our habits when it comes to consumption - particularly of energy derived from fossil fuels.

Despite all this evidence, it came as no surprise to see Paul Murray of the West, under the cloak of investigative journalism, produce 'evidence' suggesting that the changes we're seeing are as a result of nothing more than cyclical changes to weather patterns that have been taking place since time began. And the 'evidence' Paul trotted out? None other than a prominent geologist who just happens to be on the payroll of one of the peak mining bodies here in Australia. Like he's going to shit in his own nest by suggesting anything alarming!

So I wonder, if Paul's so keen about evidence, if he's ever taken a trip through Europe with his eyes open. He may have observed all the smog. Cloudless skies where the horizon is constantly brown. I wonder, Paul, was that smog around a couple of hundred years ago? And has he ever wondered where the clear blue skies have gone? I remember as a kid on the farm, looking to the sky and marvelling how clear it was, how you could just see through this blueness forever. But that's probably not scientific enough for Paul, nor for his big-business, big-industry cronies. My hope is that passion will win over thought, that common-sense will prevail over theory, and that the welfare of the planet will be put before commercial interest.