I find myself deciding between zazen and whatever, literally.
Sitting still or moving on.
It still surprises me how long it has taken people like Canada’s prime minister and the French president to catch up with what many of us have been protesting for more than two years now: the collapse of international law and the return of rule by bullies. Had Western powers drawn a clear line the moment it became obvious that the end goal was the erasure of a people, the world would not be where it is today. Lawless. Precedent-free. A jungle again.
In response to a Bernie Sanders video deploring the actions of Trump’s ICE thugs, I pointed out that their behaviour is only a bulldozed home short of what the IDF has been doing in the West Bank for decades — with the ironclad backing of the United States, bipartisan and unwavering. It’s a law of the universe: when you negate others, you negate yourself. No exceptions. No escape clauses.
I wasn’t joking when I earlier asked who would come to Australia’s rescue if a powerful foreign nation decided to move in. I’m not the first to ask the question. Two defence academics recently argued against the purchase of Virginia-class submarines, noting that we could not even maintain them independently. And if a superpower to our north made a move, would the United States really risk global war for Australia? I doubt it. Greenland was openly threatened with invasion, and the only thing that saved it was NATO. Europe stands together. Who do we stand with?
Australia is rich in resources, land, sunlight, space, and strategic location. It is not unthinkable that a densely populated, resource-poor nation might one day decide they need it more than we do. Ask the Greenlanders. Ask the Ukrainians. Ask the Palestinians. If you still doubt it, keep an eye on Taiwan.
So I come back to the smaller question, the only one I can answer: what do I do with the years remaining?
Zazen is sitting still, legs folded into impossible geometry, mind emptied through patience and pain. It worked once, when I went walkabout and lived with the land. These days I lean toward iaido — meditation in movement. Drawing the blade, returning it. Breath, balance, intent. The katana has been collecting dust for too long.
As for writing here, I usually have no trouble talking under water, but lately I feel the futility of it. Silence can be a powerful response. Still, sometimes the obvious needs to be restated: dropping bombs on the heads of children can never be justified. Not by history, not by fear, not by law, not by God.
Hell is going to be crowded.