Fiction, Melbourne, Writing


I’m thinking a lot about my life some twenty years ago. It’s unsurprising really, given this is the focus of the manuscript that I’m currently writing. That whole period in my life was a compromise I wasn’t willing to make, yet I chose, freely and without coercion, to do it. Such is the juxtaposing power of organised religion.

Now, the compromises I make are for a positive reason. Mostly, they are for my children, or for Hubster. They are along the lines of not purchasing countless articles of clothing for myself because I need to pay for after-school activities for the kids. Or Hubster and I make the decision not to do date-night, as we need to buy new shoes for the kids. I don’t mind making such compromises because providing for my kids, and raising them to be decent adults, is my number one priority, closely followed by publishing a book. And as for Hubster, I know he’s got my back.

Compromises are necessary in life. Not one of us can get through without having to give way in some areas. When faced with such, they should not be like a brick wall, preventing our pathway, or the view ahead. I reckon they should resemble a diversion, a rambling pathway that takes us through an apple orchard, or a rose garden, sometimes maybe a dark forest, but one that still moves us forward. I believe we should also look deeply at the reasons why we are giving way. Are we doing it because of timidity, allowing others (or organised religion) to roughshod over us? If that is the reason, stop. Because that is not a diversion, not an alternate pathway. It’s a total blockage. Reassess. Realign. Reevaluate.

And live your best life.



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