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THE SIGNIFICANCE (OR INSIGNIFICANCE) OF THE YEAR 2000 - A PEACEFUL STATE OF MIND - A BAD CASE OF POST-OLYMPIC FEVER HEROIN (A collection of poems inspired by the devastating effect that heroin has on our society)
THE SIGNIFICANCE (OR INSIGNIFICANCE) OF THE YEAR 2000
Jane Carter
Unless you've lived your entire life in a monastery, secluded from all of civilisation, there is no doubt that the frantic expectation of the highly anticipated year two thousand has long been programmed into your very soul. The phrase 'Y2K', which once held as much meaning as the jumbled piffle of any baby on the street, is now filled with stark significance. Add the simple, three-letter word 'bug' to the end of the phrase and its meaning is dramatically transmogrified. For, whether we like it or not, the coming of the new millennium has brought with it unmistakable alterations to our daily lives. Now, only weeks after the momentous occasion has passed, we are suddenly faced with the morbid truth that our lives must continue and that, apart from the two zeros on the end of the date, very little else has changed.
For decades, the year two thousand has held the hopes and dreams of our future. The year, which once seemed so distant from our lives, was perceived to be the era of intergalactic life forms, robots, silver foil and sequins. For others, it held the coming of Christ, an end to international debt and the beginning of world peace. In some small way, everybody acknowledged the occasion; some with indifference, but most with anticipation or fear. People were heard to have booked one-way tickets to Israel, whilst others stocked their pantries with an assortment of tinned food or sold all their possessions. Yet, as each person awakened on January the first, year two thousand, many with heavy hangovers from drunken slumber, he or she was faced with the reality that the sun continued to shine and the birds continued to sing. With thankful relief or intense despair each and every member of the planet realised that the world would, indeed, go on.
I must admit that, as I awoke that morning, I could not help but feel a small tinge of disappointment nibbling inexorably at my thoughts. For, although I had not anticipated any great revelation, to wake up and merely be faced with the prospect of making my bed was somehow a letdown. To then realise that I might have to face another seventy years of this monotony, or at least another month - until the return of school - was hardly a very inspiring thought. And, just for an instant or two, I wished that something - anything - had happened.
As the disappointment slowly faded I began to ponder what, if anything, had changed on the dawn of the new millennium. Maybe, I thought, we had gained some form of precious wisdom but, as I glanced across to where my nine year old sister was singing 'I am a bubble' in perfect unison with Angela on Playschool, I realised that this could not be so. Then I learnt of the sad fact that our government had refused to join with many other nations in the Jubilee 2000 campaign; a program by which third world countries could be released from their debts. It seemed that everything that constituted the very core of what so many had hoped and dreamed and prayed for was lost. Wisdom had not been achieved, world peace had not been gained, national unity was not present and hope had not been found. The clock had struck midnight and the hour of glory had flown away, leaving behind only the bitter remains of the glittery hype and marketing scams of the media.
As I survey the occasion with my meagre store of wisdom, I now realise that we have been tricked. The suave marketing techniques of the media have conned, swindled and cheated us all. Through their clever ploys, cute little gimmicks and captivating slogans we, the public, have been cruelly lured into believing every false pretence surrounding the hallowed occasion. The assortment of cheap plastic cups, paper plates, napkins, T-shirts, bags and hats doubled in price when they were so conveniently stencilled with a glittery 2000 motif; proving to be popular wares for the keen collector of millennium memorabilia. Now, however, the same items have been dejectedly tossed into the reduced trolleys, or shoved to the back of the shelves. Attractive offers of 'no payment until the year two thousand' and the myriad millennium sales have cruelly misled us to believe that the year two thousand has some form of significance. Here, maybe, the marketeers were partially correct for, lo, this year does mark the turn of the century and the beginning of a new millennium, but this trivial symbolic bunkum, my dear friends, is where the significance ends.
For, though we walk in the footprints of great leaders and eminent political activists, and though we have sent men to the moon and discovered the miracles of modern technology, we remain painfully ignorant. Did we honestly anticipate that, as the clock struck twelve, the world would be showered with glory? And why did we expect the changing of the date to bring such enlightenment? As we partied through the night - throwing streamers, shouting out celebratory greetings, or just watching the fireworks on telly - we waited for something to happen, but nothing did. We waited because we had been conned into believing that something would happen simply because of the change of date. We had forgotten that the earth has no recollection of time, as we know it. We had forgotten that a calendar or a clock does not bring about worldwide change and, worst of all, we did not remember that it is people who can make a difference. We had anticipated the turn of the millennium for so long but, when it finally arrived, we rolled over in bed and went back to sleep, simply because we had placed our faith in a four numeral number: the insignificant year two thousand.
For the sake of restating an old cliché, we must learn from our mistakes. We must awake from our slumber to face the future and all that it holds. Next year, and all the years beyond it, must not be repeats of the current year. Rather, we must join together as a nation to ensure that our dreams of peace, wisdom, unity and hope are achieved. We must combine our efforts to make each year significant; not merely because of the date, but because of what we, as a united force, make it. Now, with all of that out of the way, let the celebrations begin!
A PEACEFUL STATE OF MIND Jane Carter
It has become increasingly evident that this society is lacking something that is present in so many others, something to provide us with the same love and fervour for life. As we move into the twenty-first century, complete with all its technological advances and yet weighed down by materialist concerns, it is time that we seek a peaceful state of mind.
It seems that in this era the concept of inner peace has become more elusive than ever before. In what is supposedly the 'lucky country', we are experiencing an increasing rate of teen suicide. Since 1994 suicide has become one of the highest causes of death within Australia and this country now has one of the highest rates of youth suicide in the world. We hear, all too late, the pleas from these people for a life of meaning. We evidence their desperation to end their depression and emptiness, to free themselves from a life lacking peace.
These tragic endings, wedged between the heroin overdoses, unemployment, aids epidemics, nuclear wars and nation-wide devastation, provoke a sense of utter powerlessness, making us want to block out the whole depressing situation. Arthur Schlesinger once said 'No social emotion is more widespread today than the conviction of personal powerlessness.' As a civilisation, then, we stand at the crossroads - we will either continue to use our colour TVs and computers as tranquillisers or we'll realise that it's time to be responsible for our thoughts and behaviours.
Being responsible doesn't mean that we will be forced to bear the burdens of the world upon our shoulders. It doesn't mean that we will be transformed into amazing hi-tech, supersonic machines to rescue the earth from its perilous downfall. Though we may try to save ourselves from this downfall, and though our efforts will make a difference, true world peace may possibly never be obtained. For, while the twisted minds of society and warped ideals from history remain, so too will the hostilities and hatred. Rather, accepting responsibility means being able to accept the environment in which we live and, within this environment - no matter how havoc-filled or war-plagued it may be - being able to achieve a peaceful state of mind.
A peaceful state of mind, though influenced by them, does not rely on the circumstances which surround us. These events merely trigger thoughts which, in turn, lead to feelings and behaviours. What causes the differences between people facing similar external circumstances is how they view those circumstances. Some see their situation as catastrophic, unbearable or hopeless, and give up. Others accept it and find ways of achieving a peaceful state of mind, even under the circumstances. We won't always be able to influence what happens to us, but the thoughts we have about these events are under our control. By taking charge of our thoughts, we cover both options: we are in a better position to change what we can, or live with what we cannot, to find inner peace in a world without it.
We live in a society which upholds a very warped and shallow set of values, one in which our worth is determined by what we do, what we drive, and how much money we possess, one in which we are constantly striving for more, and yet never have enough. Higher stress levels lead to lower immune systems which in turn result in illness. In fact, research shows a correlation between levels of contentment and diseases, such as cancer and heart disease. In effect, our society is making us sick, and we are desperate for a cure. We yearn for something to fill the empty void within us, to provide us with the satisfaction and contentment that no material possession can provide. We long to feel calmer, more in control, and excited about life, but the possibility of that seems like an unattainable dream, a mere mirage within our minds. Our love of life is wearing thin. Something is very wrong. But what is it?
Some have recognised that they are no longer content to tread the endless cycle of straining for what they can never have, and aiming to become what they will never be. They need and search for a greater understanding of the world and themselves, than what they can simply see. They long for a peaceful state of mind.
The journey to discover this is no doubt one of the greatest personal challenges we will ever face in a lifetime. Peace of mind cannot be bought, and no human being can give it to you; this, so individual and so precious, is something that only you can achieve. And though we will each search for it and find it in different ways and places, its rewards, worthless on society's money-centred measure of success, will provide those who find it with a thoroughly enriching and fulfilling life. A true state of peace instils in us a spirit of tranquillity and freedom from inward disturbance and provides us with the confidence and courage to follow through our beliefs. No longer are we dependent on the approval of others, but we have a self-acceptance that far surpasses the opinion of any individual. A peaceful state of mind is moving into the flow of our experiences - good or bad - with a feeling of harmony, trust, gratitude and love.
Here, perhaps, though we may be ahead economically, is where we fall behind many less developed countries. Unlike our Oriental neighbours whose upbringing has been filled with the Eastern acceptance of spirituality, that balance them and bring them peace, our upbringing has been filled with the Western teachings of intellect over spirit, struggle over peace and a belief that competition and worldly success are paramount. And so we topple over as our learned beliefs pull us away from the power and joy available from a peaceful state of mind.
1986 was the international year of peace. Now, fourteen years later, we must ask ourselves how far we have advanced, for how can we ever hope to bring peace to the world, when we do not even have it within ourselves? Only once we have desired to escape from life's turmoil and sought inner peace can we accept the on-going challenge to make this more than just head knowledge, but rather something that sustains us and transforms us, despite our circumstances, to that peaceful state of mind.
A BAD CASE OF POST-OLYMPIC FEVER Jane Carter
A bit of au naturel Grecian muscle flexing and a nude run through Athens birthed the notion of today's modern Olympic Games and ignited the flame of pride that would turn these games into a revered tradition. 2,776 years later, with an impressive display of fireworks and giant kewpie dolls, and with the words of Juan Antonio Samaranch, 'These have been the best Games ever', ringing eternally in our ears, the Sydney Olympic Games were finished. Or so we thought.
In recent years the Games have become an example of national and, indeed, international unification and pride. Breaking language barriers and spanning continents, the Olympics draw countries together in the pursuit of a common goal. For those of us who are not considered to possess the elite qualities required to compete, the Games provide us with a facade, beneath which it is acceptable to exhibit goodwill and cheer to our neighbours. They give us an excuse to shout crazily at our television screens, or splurge our money on front-row arena seats.
In the true Olympic spirit, the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games swept through Australia like a whirlwind romance. All across the country, normally sane Australians became wrapped up in their love affair with Fatso the Wombat, Tatiana Gregorieva, and all things Olympic. But, as the celebrations came to a close and international competitors made their return flights home, Australia, unlike the rest of the world, could not let go. Now, months after the Games have ended, we remain paralysed with Post-Olympic Fever. Gone beyond the realms of national pride, we enter a state bordering dangerously on obsession.
We've published a plethora of books and magazines that capture our finest moments of the Games on film, along with a lucrative market of colourful Olympic memorabilia. For how much longer will we continue to see 'Official Olympic Sponsor' plastered across every (non-Olympic) product we buy? Competitors have been showered with money and public attention. These once 'ordinary' people have taken on celebrity status as the paparazzi follow their movements and as we admire and aspire to be like them. (Why, I've even seen people walking around in Cathy Freeman-look-alike body suits.) Like a treasured trophy, we have placed our sense of success at having 'the best Games ever' on the mantle-piece of national achievements; there forever to gaze at and show off at dinner parties. No doubt, in decades to come, we will still be talking about it, like the proud mother gloating over her small son's success on the potty.
If merely for the purpose of avoiding being stoned by pro-Games activists, I will admit that the 2000 Olympic Games were a wonderful event and should not be denied the respect and importance that they deserve. And I do hope that they, and the joy they brought, will be remembered fondly in our history books and hearts. My prayer, however, is that this display of physical ability will not become the central achievement or interest of this nation, and that our pride in this will not overtake our involvement in worthy causes.
A recent finding of the United Nations' World Food Program revealed that 830 million people across the globe are afflicted by hunger - that's more than 46 times as many people as Australia's entire population. If the findings of the United Nations' World Food Program are not enough to zap us back into reality, then that which is remains sadly elusive. The fact that we can pull off an Olympic Games that is the envy of our neighbouring countries should not be a subject of boasting, but rather a reminder that we are lucky enough to have the money and resources to do something about the poverty that afflicts those within our own, and other countries. For Australia is, indeed, the lucky country; not lucky because we can host 'the best' Olympic Games, but lucky because we have the power to make a difference.
And so, our leg of the relay complete, the time has come to hand over the baton to a new country, and to look forward to a new future. And, whilst the torch that bears our flame of pride must continue to burn, the flame of self-gratifying praise must be doused in the hope of a better tomorrow.
HEROIN A collection of poems inspired by the devastating effect that heroin has on our society
Jane Carter
Fred He sits on the corner,
Next to the milk bar,
Slumped in front of the bike shop that's always He looks at me.
I smile at him.
He does not smile back.
I think I will call him Fred.
Mummy tugs on my hand,
She coughs quietly.
A soft gurgling noise is coming from her throat.
If you are sick, I say, then maybe Fred can help you.
He even has a needle, Mummy!
Maybe he is a doctor, I tell her.
Mummy is walking very quickly,
Little tsk, tsking noises grating against her teeth.
Her Arms
Her pale skin hangs from frail, snaking bones.
Intricate mazes of veins pattern her arms,
Weaving over and around swollen mounds of purple-tinged skin.
Tiny ruptures of blood-red hue
And darker ones, almost black,
Surround the thin shaft of metal that pierces her skin,
Almost like a permanent fixture of her body,
Or a strange, deformed limb growing from her vein.
Yesterday
Yesterday I saw her.
Yesterday she was alive.
Today she has been reduced to nothing more than
Three lines of size-two font in the deaths section of the classifieds;
A dribble of black ink against cheap yellowing paper;
A string of drool that hangs from the foul mouth of a monstrous printer,
That spits out these words,
Cold and systematic,
Tiny droplets of gloom.Today the paper sits on somebody's kitchen table,
Another piece of litter within the chaotic mess they call their life.
It waits beside a cooling-coffee cup
And a piece of half-finished toast.
Two tired eyes skim over the words beneath her name,
As they scan the deaths column
Searching for anybody familiar,
Before slumping back into the chair with giddy relief.
They see her name, but do not care.
To them she is nothing more than this
Three-centimetre square of obligation.Tomorrow even this will be gone,
A ball of paper tossed carelessly into the flames,
And then a small pile of black ashes.
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©TalentEd is
located at the School of Education, |
This page updated: 23 January 2006 |