What really matters?

contemplations on how to live a meaningful life in a world that is going mad

card from: autumnskyeart.com

My brain shows me scenes. Often the same scenes, over and over. Kind of like a coffee. You may have one in the morning and then, if you are with Europeans or Australians, there may be another in the afternoon. Not too much. Not too many. But the coffee ritual is something that often repeats. Until you decide you don’t drink it anymore.

Sometimes it seems to me, my brain works like that.

But it may not be my brain.

It may be angels, or my soul, giving my brain a little nudge to remind me that they have shown me something. Something I can learn from. Something that can help me grow.

The last few days there have been two scenes flowing though my brain and it might not be surprising that once more, both scenes have to do with airport security.

In a world that is becoming more and more technocratic, there is nothing like a nice trip through airport security to remind me of just how bad things are getting.

This time I was heading out of Australia, to go to Fiji.

Honestly, I thought getting out would be pretty easy. To get in, I had to download an app and then answer questions that seemed to me, to be none of Australia’s business. I wasn’t about to be deceitful on a government form. I have had too much government schooling to make that even a remote possibility. Of course, I did consider not going to Australia, but I wanted to visit my friend. And it was just a form. Another form. Another thing I was doing where I was being tracked and evaluated in ways I found invasive. But I complied. I knew fear and guilt would have been the result of deception. I gave them all the information they asked for and got my permission to enter the land of kangaroos and koalas.

While there, I saw more evidence of control and compliance. Things were tidy everywhere. People were well dressed. Homelessness in Brisbane, in the areas I was in, was next to non-existent.

There was also not a lot of organic food, and I found almost everyone I met or overheard talking, had some kind of health issue or was dealing with someone who did. There were a lot of cameras, a lot of rules and regulations (many of which seemed a good idea to people I was with) and a general sense of patriotism. Most of them, although being very kind to me, were also not very happy with the US.

I was told that the app I had to fill out to get into their country was not even close to what they had to deal with when attempting to visit the US. They also would equate the US with me, which I tend to find causes me to tense up. “When we want to visit YOU…” they would say. Or, “since so-and-so was elected in the US, YOUR COUNTRY…” It didn’t matter where I lived and they never asked who I voted for, or if I had. They typically assumed I felt the same way about whatever they were saying, which sometimes, I didn’t. But I understood and I felt for them when it came to entering the US.

“Now we have to hand over OUR PHONES at customs, Terra. And they download everything. My friend had a meme sent to him…not a meme he sent, or one he necessarily agreed with. Just one that was on his phone and said something negative about the current President, and he was turned away at the border. He couldn’t get in. He had to buy a ticket back.”

All Australians now have to hand over their phones and allow everything on it to be uploaded into the cloud to be evaluated. Nothing is private.

And they were not happy about it.

In addition to learning things like this, I dealt with various forms of frustration which mostly had to do with accessing the internet. I thought I was heading to a first world country and after Egypt and Cambodia, I was ready for clean water and fast internet.

But in Australia, the internet and cell service was the slowest I have encountered in three years of travel. I figured it had something to do with surveillance. It did seem to help when I turned my VPN off, which is something I use for security purposes when working online. And even then, I had to wait what felt like eons for a page to load while I wandered around my friend’s house trying to find a place closer to her wifi router. That also helped, but only a little bit.

Then there was the day I called a friend in El Salvador from a park near the house where I was staying. I was looking forward to hearing her take on things there, which I knew would be a lot more boots-on-the-ground than my news feed on X. I finally had a moment and so did she, so I plopped myself down on a bench to chat.

I was using WhatsApp as I really hadn’t thought things through around our phone call and surveillance. It was the strangest call I ever had. Periodically, the audio would stop and then start again. It was tremendously suspicious to me and to her as well. I told her next time we would try using Signal, another more private messaging app.

We were not talking about anything secret or anything that could not have been posted on X .

But I was almost certain that Australia was listening. And that irritated me quite a bit.

So, I was more than ready to leave. My gracious friend had never made me feel like I was a burden despite my 2 1/2 week stay and my incapacity to be as tidy as her, despite my best efforts. She gave me a hug and wished me well. Bless her Aussie heart. She told me they do their best to welcome guests.

So, finally, after her friend who drives for Uber dropped me off, I was back in the airport. I had to mess with my suitcases to get the weight within the acceptable limit. I placed my checked bag on a belt and then attached the tag a machine spit out at me which still labeled it “Heavy” despite now being within the weight limit before placing it on a belt that I hoped would take it to Fiji. There was no one there. Just the automated system telling me what to do. At one point a woman stopped by to answer some questions, but she didn’t stay. It was between the computer, the scale and me. But I got it to work. Next, I made my way to security and placed my remaining bag and backpack on the conveyor belt to be scanned for water bottles I may have accidentally left. My passport, computer, and fanny pack were gliding rapidly towards the waiting black flaps to enter the x-ray machine.

There was just me left.

I looked at the machine in front of me. It looked like the full body scanners they have in the US, the one’s I always opt out of. Only once have I set my desire aside when I was in a hurry to see someone who was in a hospital who I was told, might not make it through the night. I was headed for the last flight out of Durango and was determined to make it. So I let them scan me. Once.

Otherwise, I am quite stubborn about avoiding them.

The security agent up ahead motioned me forward and I mentioned, “Those look a lot like the ones in the US,” as I glared at it suspiciously and people passed me and took “the position” with their arms out to the side and their feet on top of little footprints on the platform below.

“They don’t feel good to me,” I continued. “I want to opt out.”

Now, I am not so sure Australians do this. He looked at me a bit confused and then nodded his head.

I kept waving people who kept trying to line up behind me to pass by and prayed the cameras everywhere would work in my favor as all my personal belongings were now successfully scanned and sitting out of reach waiting for anyone to take them.

But I wasn’t going to budge.

This is one of my lines in the sand.

I don’t think they are good for me and so I am not getting into one of them. I will allow the rubber gloved body molestation instead. For me, it is the lesser of two evils.

After a few minutes, I started to wonder if they had forgotten about me or were taking their time on purpose.

“You can go ahead,” I said to the polite and confused people forming another line behind me. One of them glanced at me with curiosity.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“I don’t want to go through that,” as I pointed at the person who looked like they belonged in a line-up at a police station. “I don’t think it’s healthy.”

“You can do that?” she asked (and I thought I noticed a tiny bit of longing as well as curiosity in her voice).

“Well, I am,” I replied.

And I thought to myself, “Well Terra, you may be having more of an affect than you have realized.”

I really hadn’t thought much about that.

I don’t opt out to try to convince anyone of anything. I opt out because it aligns with my principles.

The woman paused. She was reconsidering, and I could see the conflict on her face.

But she took a breath and stepped into the scanner and spread her feet apart just as the security man looked at me and asked, “Will you go through one of these?” and pointed at a metal detector up ahead.

“Sure!” I said, as I silently realized that in Australia, it seemed that people just didn’t opt out like this and I had taken them quite by surprise.

I still had to walk through the scanner to reach it, which I did quickly while telling myself it had to be off. The lady had gone before me and she looked at me as I walked by and said, “I knew I should have waited!” I winked at her, which I hope felt like encouragement for the future, and strolled through the metal detector and then headed to collect my things.

No one patted me down.

All in all, I considered it a win.

But I also realized that when I do this, people are watching and that contrary to what I have imagined, it may actually make a difference. It may mean that more people opt out in the future even though I didn’t do it for that reason.

But then I had to go through customs and I saw the facial recognition software and a place to put my passport on a scanner. There were some words above that said in doing so, I was agreeing to a bunch of things I am sure I consider private.

But by then I was tired. Those facial recognition scanners are fast and I have yet to opt out of them. It feels a bit shameful to say that as I have followed many people who have encouraged me to do just that. And I haven’t yet. I have kept my TSA pre-check status and been happy to have it as I am shuffled towards the metal detectors and away from the full body scanners in the US.

In that moment, I didn’t want to do it.

I didn’t feel good about it.

But I did it anyway.

I took my big red glasses off (as the facial recognition software absolutely can’t deal with them) and walked through the turn style.

But I had a sinking feeling in my stomach about the whole thing and cursed Australia silently despite complying to similar things in the US.

Two custom agents stood in front of me.

I wondered what would have happened if I had said I didn’t want to say yes to whatever I did in order to whoosh though their system? I had read a substack post recently from someone who said she had stopped complying with facial recognition and it had actually worked out for her. She even mentioned telling the custom agent in one airport that she did it because she was trusting her heart and just didn’t feel good about facial recognition. She mentioned that he seemed understanding.

“Hi,” I said to the two young agents nearby. “I was just wondering what would have happened if I didn’t want to do that?” and I pointed towards the turn style I had just gone through.

“Oh, you still would have had to have your picture taken,” said one of the young men. “And you would have had to wait in that line,” as he pointed towards a queue towards another customs agent sitting in a plastic box nearby.

Something must have crossed my face. I have been told that my face is terrible at keeping a secret. It might have been the scent from the thought I had which was wondering if maybe the picture was still better than whatever I had agreed to as I placed my passport on their scanner a few moments ago.

That’s when the other young man, who couldn’t have been over twenty three looked at me and said, “Why wouldn’t you? Do you have something to hide?” as he laughed in a threatening and disparaging way.

His friend had been professional and honest with me and I do believe in his eyes, the picture would have troubled me equally.

But the other young man’s sarcasm stayed with me.

I didn’t have anything to hide. I knew that.

But I also felt a lot of me and my life was none of Australia’s business. I started wondering about boundaries. I thought of the cells in my body. They had boundaries. It seemed so absurd to me that anyone could think it was a good idea for no one to have any boundaries.

The older-than-you-young-man part of me wanted to march back and ask if next time, perhaps it would be easier if I just walked through naked? That thought repeated more than once and despite my desire for humor and compassion for myself and him, it only made me laugh a little bit as an angry part of me was feeling spiteful and wanted to follow through with it.

But soon I was on the plane to Fiji, tucked in next to a muslim woman with kind eyes who eventually added a medical mask to her head scarf. At that point, my brain suggested that if things get really bad, I could always dress like that.

But then it reminded me that there were iris scans and fingerprints. There was really no getting around it.

Now I am settled in a lovely hotel spending time with my younger son. Fiji is more wonderful than I imagined. The internet and cell phone service is fast and easy to use. The food options are fresh and they tailor things for me as I wish and agree to use olive oil instead of canola on my eggplant parmesan. The roads are paved and the people smile a lot and look me in the eye.

And I have been thinking about those two moments in the airport.

It is so easy to get caught up in all that is happening in the world. Regardless of one’s political views or outlook, it is likely that there are things that just feel off. It is easy to feel like one should be doing more.

In the airport, I did one thing that felt in alignment for me. That it may have inspired someone else to do the same, or shown them another way, was lovely. But the lesson I saw from it was that simply being me and doing my best makes a difference.

It is easy to move on to the second scene and berate myself for not opting out. Kind of like the woman who watched me, I feel a little more comfortable knowing that I can and the possibility feels nice to me.

There is a part of me that tells myself that I need to. That taking a stand is very important and that I am not doing enough in so many ways. But that doesn’t feel kind. It doesn’t feel like care.

A few days ago, I found that I had a lovely deck of Oracle cards with me I purchased in Canada. They were tucked in the back of my suitcase and when I noticed them, I took a moment to ask for one meant for me.

The card I found had an image on it that reminds me of self-love. I started to practice that a bit in Cambodia with my new friend Timo, when I realized there were parts of myself I have judged.

Now here it was again.

And I asked myself, “What really matters Terra?”

Whether I opt out of something or not, what really matters is how I am caring for myself in the moment and how much compassion I can have for myself and others. It is easy to feel like I am not doing enough or am never enough and those thoughts just don’t serve me. They don’t nourish my soul and my energy.

There is something magical that happens when I intentionally connect to my crown chakra and invite in the energy of my soul. I imagine that my energy body fills up a bit with light and that in itself prevents whatever is going on around me from bothering me as much.

I have tried this recently a few times when I feel my jaw tightening when someone says or does something that doesn’t resonate for me in some way and it has helped.

There is also something lovely that happens when I tell myself that I am doing just fine and that who I am matters more than what I do. It helps to see the second situation with the sarcastic young man with compassion for us both. He is still learning. He doesn’t understand yet, about personal autonomy and boundaries. But he will. He is still growing up and so am I.

It is more important that I savor time with my son, and moments connecting with myself and others. It is important to see all these events in life as opportunities to love myself and others more and less important to get things “right.”

It is good if I can learn to connect to my soul and heart. It is worth the time I take to practice this and also good to remember and remind myself that it is ok to trust that things will work out in the end. The more I feel the future I want, and hold the energy of that, the more easily it will flow into my experience.

As I sat on the beach in Fiji and watched the sun rise, I realized I didn’t need to worry so much about whether or not I opted out of something. It was more important I gave myself an energetic hug and savored the exquisite beauty of the world around me. It was good to trust that and to take in that things are beautiful.

Silver fish swam by and a lone man strolled up to me and pointed at my phone.

“Take picture?” he said.

“Sure,” I smiled.

“Beautiful,” he said.

I don’t think it was really me he was seeing. I think it was the woman on the beach taking time to really savor a sunrise.

We are all beautiful when we take a breath, love ourselves as we are…doing our best…and savor things a bit. Even when, maybe especially when, the world seems to be going crazy.

*I opted out of a game of pool with my son last night to write and left him to play with another traveler. This morning I started to berate myself. “What really matters? How can you write about that Terra and then skip some special time with your son?” But I caught myself, being hard on myself. It is an old habit which can also be an opportunity to see things through the eyes of love. My son was happy, and he reminded me we have lots of time here. I had fun writing. All is well. I remembered the image on the card again. It is so easy to be hard on oneself. What really matters most is love and that starts with loving me.

autumnskyeart.com

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