December 21st 2025

Let the storm blow through

Let the storm blow through

I read this quote earlier today.

My mother taught me that the longer you keep that howl trapped inside your body, the more wolf you become, but she never showed me how to let the howl out.

Womanhood is also this: a violence louder on the inside than it is on the outside. Smiling when truly all you are doing is baring your teeth.

Nikita Gill, This Wild Violence Visits Again

I have never been good at smiling. My rage comes out easily. I rarely smile while baring my teeth.

I have rage in me now. So much of it. There is a howl that must come out, and it must come out without doing harm.

I have rage at my elderly father, who, all of his life, has expected people to drop everything and run around at his beck and call.

I have rage that my country has never fully acknowledged the genocide we inflicted on the indigenous people, and now, our colonised roots soaked in blood, we support a regime that is genocidal. We are expected to honour the life of a man who encouraged genocide, who denies the rights and life of Palestinians, and who believed that the land of Israel belongs to the Jews and no one else. While his death was terrible and wrong, I refuse to honour the man and his actions. This same country now seeks to suppress Australians from speaking up against genocide, making our peaceful protest a crime.

Further, to appease the stranglehold that the Israel lobby has over our country, they have chosen to adopt the definition of anti-Semitism that conflates criticism of Judaism, which is always abhorrent, with criticism of Israel, which is necessary.

My rage is reaching the level of dis-ease. The howl is a roar.

To live in a Syntropic World, we begin by acknowledging that all life is sacred. Nothing happens unless there are relationships and partnering, where people are treated with dignity and respect. To consider our effects on others, and to willingly participate in sharing the physical, emotional and spiritual load of being together is our tax for existing in community, paid with love.

I know the antidote to my rage. After speaking, naming and writing, it is to hibernate, and let the storm blow through.

Photo Taken June 14th 2025, Article published December 21st 2025

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