I recently got roped into a WhatsApp chat group that was created by a group from my secondary school back in Klang. Named “Class of 82”, it is a bunch of ex La Sallians from Klang who are bathing in nostalgia.

Given the shemozzle that is Malaysian politics now, the current topic of conversations amongst Malaysians have been on a “WTF” approach. As I write, Muhyiddin Yassin has been appointed a Prime Minister of Malaysia. Mahathir Mohamad, the nonagenarian who was given the reigns in May 2018, has been tied up in knots by those of his coalition partners who continue to hold on to the idea that Malays must rule in Malaysia. Chinese, particularly those from the Democratic Action Party – DAP – must never be given any influence over how the country is ruled.

Muhyiddin Yassin was a deputy prime minister in Najib Razak’s government. He was an UMNO man for a very long time, before he left to join Mahathir Mohamad in the latter’s newly minted vehicle, “Bersatu” leading up to the May 2018 elections. I imagine it takes only a very small leap for him to return to his familiar cauldron of racial politics in upholding the eminence of Malays and subjugating the rights and interests of Chinese and Indians.

All that shenanigans in Malaysia only cemented our long vindicated position of bidding farewell to Malaysia all those years ago. Friend and ex-colleagues who still live there, now tell their children to build their homes away from that blighted country.

Other than those brouhahas, the weekend also saw a couple of comeuppances. Of sorts. The smug Chinese swimmer that is now a double confirmed drug cheat, Sun Yang, was finally dealt his long overdue penalty. He has been found guilty and banned for 8 long years, by CAS (Court for Arbitration for Sport). An arrogant cheat who thumbed his nose at fellow competitors who stood against his cheating ways, he had recklessly and arrogantly (and most probably stupidly) smashed vials containing his blood (and urine?) samples during a surprise drug test. He claimed procedural improprieties, but smashing those vials go beyond such claims, surely? I was very glad that the Aussie champion Mack Horton, has been vindicated. Some of my Facebook friends took issue with me when Mack Horton stood his ground during a world swimming competition and refused to share a podium with Sun Yang. We had extended exchanges then. I’m glad Mack Horton is vindicated now.

At St Alf’s on Sunday, Mike McNamara a minister, couldn’t resist mentioning Watford’s triumph over Liverpool in the English Premier League. They thumped the champions in waiting 3-0, and brought the latter’s long unbeaten run to a crushing halt. Like Gary Neville, I felt like popping a champagne.

I couldn’t help but soak in a sense of schadenfreude, and a hattrick at that. Malaysian politics and the circus that comes with that, Sun Yang’s validation as a drug cheat, and Liverpool’s stutter.

Sometimes, recognising I am such a sinner, brings a wicked smile nonetheless. Romans 7:15 bears on me but I couldn’t help but feel the wicked humour those events brought.

And of course, our usual weekend routine grounded away without abatement. The lawn and garden are tidied and clean, the meals (ours and the Little Black Jedi’s) cooked, grocery etc re-stocked, haircut done, etc etc etc….

I am increasingly befuddled by the likes of a doctor who appeared on a radio show yesterday afternoon. A Dr Fiona Stanley was a guest on the show of Tom Elliot on 3AW Drive show, when I was driving home from the station after work yesterday.

Dr Fiona Stanley was to speak about HESTA super fund investments in fossil fuel related companies. Dr Stanley was going to, apparently, seek HESTA divestment of all fossil fuel investments.

I switched off when Dr Fiona Stanley came on. I had enough.

If Dr Stanley wanted to have nothing to do with fossil fuel investment, she should just switch funds. HESTA is not just for medical doctors. It is also a fund for many health sector employees. To many of these employees, what matters more is the return that augments their retirement nest eggs.  If Dr Stanley thinks that is of lesser importance than her views on climate change matters, she can simply transfer her super elsewhere. To impose her own agenda on others is something I cannot stand listening to.

It was easy to tune out of Tom Elliot’s show yesterday, when the likes of Dr Fiona Stanley is on.

We had a weekend away to Sydney a couple of weekends ago. A cousin got married and a whole bunch of relos descended on the harbour city. We got in to Canberra on a Thursday, stayed with Kiddo and Mic for a night, and pushed on to Sydney the next day.

We checked in to our air b&b home when we got in early in the arvo, and no sooner had we unpacked and tried to sort out a couple of bugs with that place, when my brother rang to say they’re ready for us to pick them up. They had arrived from KL the day before and had stayed in a motel near the bride’s family home and were to stay with us for the rest of their time in Sydney.

We battled our way through Sydney roads and traffic and got to the motel somehow, picked them up and went back to the air b&b home in Willoughby, before going to a pub for dinner with my brother and Jean.

After dinner, we waited at home for Kiddo and Mic who arrived from Canberra late that Friday night. It was good for all 6 of us to be in that same house for the next few days.

The next day, we drove across a couple of suburbs and the wedding saw many relos catching up and it was really nice.

The dinner reception later that night was further across town and we had to go in 2 separate cars. The vino didn’t flow too well that night – it had dried out by the first course (of a Chinese 12 course banquet). We all laughed about it, savaging (in a good humoured way) the well known tight arse nature of the father of the bride… It was just as well anyway, as it meant I could drive home instead of letting Tress take the wheel through the narrow and winding road (riddle with pot holes) of Sydney.

The next day, the relos congregated at Wynyard Station in the city for a bit of a tour around the city, lunching at Chinatown and finishing with a ferry ride to Manly beach.

On Monday, we drove Jean to the home of my uncle (father of the bride), from whence the road trip to Melbourne and back was to embark. We then dropped my brother at the home of another uncle, before he flew back to KL later that night. We then drove back to Canberra to spend another night there before heading home.

We got home late in the arvo on Tuesday, and I then burrowed myself in a busy 3 days of work. We again caught up with the road warriors who had made their way on a 12 seater van/bus from Sydney through to Melbourne. Tress and I shouted them to a Peking Duck dinner at Box Hill South, after which they dropped in to our home for drinks and chats. That was lovely.

Early the next morning, I looked at my phone and saw a mini SOS message. My uncle, the driver and father of the bride, had come down with the Teh family ailment, the debilitating gout. I said I had some meds for that and drove across town to Albert Lake park where they were staying, and delivered the drugs. By the time we got back, it was nearly noon.

Tress had her ethereal stuff later that arvo and I was left in a disorientated state, with my weekend/Sat twirled in a state of incognito. I ended up in a Bunnings warehouse, wandering around before heading home to watch something on Netflix. We were supposed to go over to Alex and Lil Har’s for dinner that night but before Tress went out, she said there was to be a 60^th birthday party at Alex and Li Har’s. That put me off as we had been unprepared. I didn’t want to rock up with nothing to contribute to such an occasion so I decided we’d just take our time at St Alf’s that night and skip the dinner.

At St Alf’s we were treated to a wonderful presentation by Greg Sheridan, a veteran journalist at The Oz. He was terrific value, so witty, erudite and knowledgeable as well as extremely well connected. For him to attend St Alf’s on a Saturday night to speak at a “Men’s” event, either spoke highly of St Alf’s or showed what a man he was. Maybe both.

Sunday saw a bit more normality. After St Alf’s we went to lunch, did some shopping, and went home for some cooking and pottering around the garden. It was well past 6 by the time we walked the little guy. Just as we were preparing for bed, I looked at my phone and saw that Mahathir has been to his old styled machination.

I woke up this morning, to mixed news. United had beaten Watford 3-0 at home, with new signing Bruno Fernandez scoring his first goal. Countervailing that is the news of Mahathir ditching his coalition partners to shack up with those twerps of critters at UMNO. Disgraceful but entirely unsurprising. I am too weak a person not to be a touch smug but the more overwhelming emotion is sadness. Malaysia deserves better. The temptation to trumpet my “I told you so” is too great. I wished Malaysians had been stronger than they were, running up to the May 2018 elections. Mahathir should never have been allowed his return.

I said to Tress, over the weekend, that there has been events in recent days, that tend to suggest my premonitions are often right. I feel like a Cassandra and I hope I become more positive in the days ahead. I want to be and I guess only God can change that. Until then…

I can probably replicate my usual Monday memos to this journal, for the weekend that just went by. There was a child safety training in St Alf’s yesterday after the service and that was probably the only departure from business as usual.

Business as usual had Mike McNamara deliver a really good sermon on temple theology, when the series on 1 Kings got to the part where Solomon built the temple.

Business as usual also had me, the only Asian amongst 4 others middle aged Anglo-Saxon white males, inspecting a business premise on Wantirna Road on Saturday morning. We were there to look at the prospects of Steer buying its own office premises, several years after selling and leaving the Court St property.

Business as usual meant I worked on the lawns on Sat, did some cooking on Sunday. I guess Tress at the hairdresser’s on Sat morning was not a business as usual matter, but it’s pretty much the usual type of weekend.

As always, routine is good. I should relish it, I guess.

“Honestly…” – My boss – a Caucasian – likes to preface his (exasperated) statements so.

“Chan Hai Ah…” is the Cantonese equivalent. You hear that a lot from Hong Kongers.

“Sit Chai…” is often heard uttered by my father-in-law. That is an old Hokkien expression.

I guess we all appeal to some unexpressed truth of some form. We believe there are universal, obvious truths. Truths that I think make us wonder what others were thinking when they ignore them.

I guess sometimes, distilling what that truth may be, becomes very hard. Maybe that’s when we throw our hands in the air and do a Pontius Pilate to suggest who knows what truth is anyway.

Maybe, truths are “too hard” because they can be inconvenient. Maybe, and I’m guessing often, truths are “too hard” when the vox populi runs counter to them.

This morning, when I read of Margaret Court’s views about reactions to her expressed beliefs, and then when I heard my boss uttered his favourite preface, I wondered when my city will come to read and think about what Jesus said in John 14:6.

January appears to have whizzed past. It has been a tempestuous month, and Melbourne appears to be in the thick of storms of sorts, metaphorical or otherwise. On Friday, a very hot day ended with heavy rain as well as a dust storm that threatened to again coat the city with a carpet of orange brown muck.

Tress and I braved the unpleasant conditions on Friday for our usual end of working week dinner at a local joint. We opted for Thai and had a quiet unwinding dinner that was quite pleasant. We then went home to enjoy the tennis. January each year is the one time we watch tennis on television, as the spectacle of having the world’s top players battling for a grand slam title is worth every minute. Melbourne puts on a grand party for the event every year and most Melburnian I know bask in this.

On Saturday, the orange brown coating threat was fully realised and I got out the pressure cleaner to clean the car that was on the driveway, as well as the driveway itself. It was to be another rainy day but I didn’t trust the rain to wash away the muck, and I felt far better after the quick cleaning job.

Car quickly cleaned, I gave the little fellow a bath. I took my time working the medicated shampoo into the little guy’s coats, and finished it off by rinsing some vinegar into them. He looked far cleaner and fresher after that.

Pooch and car cleaned, I got stuck into vacuuming. The day got much more humid and I was sweating like a pig when I was done vacuuming. It was well past 1pm by the time I hit the showers. Tress too had done a truckload of work with the laundry, and when we both got cleaned up, we ducked out for a bite at the local shops, and then picked up the groceries.

The night ended with the tennis again, this time watching the young American lady picking up her first grand slam title. Ms. Sonia Kenin had earlier taken out local sweetheart Ash Barty and it feels like Ms. Kenin will pick up more trophies in the years ahead.

I was up early on Sunday morning. There was a game at 4.30am. United was playing Wolves and I thought I’d catch it. I was up from 4am instead, and instead of turning to the iPad as I normally do, I just lied on my bed to take in the silence. I listened to the silence and whispered a prayer.

In as much as I appreciate the routine of work and rest each week, sprinkled with little indulgences of good food and wine and local drives to wineries and beaches, what I long for is to seek some form of “higher” purpose. I don’t know what that looks like though, and I have been asking the Lord “what next”, for a while now. I have been seeking and asking for a little while now but as life is chugging along anyway, it is easy to get distracted. Life can settle into a rhythm and offer enough nice things to keep one’s thoughts away from stuff that is messier or, simply less pleasant.

I have no desire to travel more or make new friends or seek new experiences, I merely want to find some form of service or engagement that gives me a sense of fulfilling a higher purpose. Do I need to have some form of pre-qualification before that happens? Probably not. So why has it been so silent out there? As I lay on my bed in the dark listening, all I hear is silence. I didn’t let the silence linger however, as one of life’s pleasant distractions soon butted in again. It was soon 4.30am and the match had started. I started to watch the game on the iPad but then moved to the lounge room to turn the TV on to continue watching.

United delivered another pedestrian performance, new signing notwithstanding. Bruno Fernandez looked promising on paper and didn’t look too bad on the pitch either but somehow, the overall team performance was all too familiar in its ordinariness. United slogged on for a goalless draw at home to Wolves and yet again, all that is left is unfounded hope.

At St Alf’s later in the day, Peter spoke on 1 Kings 4 & 5, and continued the theme on wisdom – God’s wisdom. He spoke about seeking wisdom to work out practical matters of everyday living. I wonder if eking out a routine not unlike mine, is an example. Probably not.

We then had a very ordinary lunch at a local Indian, before we went home and I did the week’s cook, human and pooch, while Tress went out for her ethereal activities.

Later in the evening, as the day ends with sunny and cool conditions, it felt so lovely that Tress and I spent a little time outside, weeding and fussing with the lawns, flower beds, etc. We kept going until the tennis – the men’s final – started. I had wanted Thiem to win but the magnificent Djokovic prevailed again, albeit he needed 5 sets to overcome my horse.

As I continued reading Tracy Kidder’s book on the train into the office this  morning, I wondered if my reading this book will have anything to do with the trajectory of my thoughts in the past year or so. Kidder’s book on Dr Paul Farmer, the founder of the Partners In Health charity that does great work in Haiti and Peru, has been sitting on the bench top for a while (many weeks). It wasn’t even my book. Tress had picked it up from her workplace but she had then left it on the kitchen bench top and never touched it since. I picked it up only because after reading a Helen Garner book on my first week back at work after Christmas, I had nothing else to read. I simply picked up Kidder’s book on the way out of the house one morning and notwithstanding the crowded trains leaving only standing room and the hustle and bustle and noise of summer commuters, I have plugged away and am nearly done with that book now. I don’t know how this will impact and shape my thoughts on the question of what next. I will soon return to Helen Garner – her “Monkey Grip” now sits on work desk in the office. When I pick it up, Kidder’s book and Farmer’s work will likely ebb away. I hope that doesn’t mean the silence then envelopes me again. It can feel like being covered, again, by a layer of orange brown muck that will again need high pressure cleaning.

 

The familiar combination of long summer days and the tennis grand slam event that takes over the city this time every year, makes for a lazy, holiday like feeling. The long weekend (Australia Day), which is just a day after the Lunar New Year, made the occasion even better.

We were with Jason and Mel at their home on Friday night, for a Lunar New Year eve dinner. They put on a hot pot (“steamboat”) and we brought some stuff along (some pre-cut pork belly slices and fish ball/fish cakes, and some kimchi) including a couple of bottles of wine. It was nice spending the evening with their family.

Unfortunately for some reason or another, a photograph of Tress and I that Jason took that night in his home, ended up with Ruth and Jonathan, my cousins from an opposite end of Melbourne. This haphazard sharing of photos through social media like WhatsApp for no cogent reason, is thoroughly annoying, so I decided to exit a number of these chat groups – a risk reduction measure, I guess. Now, I’m only on chat groups with immediate family members.

On Saturday, we slept in and then drove to the beautiful Yarra Valley. Every time we make our way to this part of Melbourne, I wonder why we don’t do it more. It’s only a bit over half an hour away and we’re in beautiful vineyard country. I had made a reservation at the Mandala vineyard restaurant (“DiVino”) and we had a beautiful lunch there.

After lunch, we drove around, and dropped into the chocolatier and ice-creamery place, which was jam packed. The summer holiday feeling was heightened and by the time we got home late arvo, I felt rested and had loads of fun. Even when I had to wash the cars later that arvo, those feelings didn’t abate.

Melbourne/Victoria has undergone some pretty trying weather conditions. The fires had created a smoky and dusty atmosphere and a few days earlier, a thick brown fog of dust descended on the whole city and left orange/brown dust all over. The cars were covered with the stuff, as were our deck and driveway.

So on the way back from Yarra Valley, before I took the cars out to wash, we dropped by Bunnings and we picked up a high pressure cleaner. On Sunday arvo, after St Alf’s and lunch at a usual spot, I gave it a red hot go to clean the driveway and deck and while they are now much cleaner than before, it’d probably need another round of efforts.

St Alf’s on Sunday was special as it was a farewell service of sorts for Jordan Hitchcock, a minister who had responsibility mainly for the young adults and families. He had been there for 7 years and they are prepping him for a more senior role, probably in a leadership capacity in some other parish. I have always enjoyed his sermons, which I thought were always very well crafted. His core points were always solidly grounded on sound theological footing and delivered in great style. He is very good with his preaching ministry.

Monday (yesterday) was a public holiday and we drove down to the beach at Chelsea. Auntie Hooi and Uncle Marloney had bought a beach apartment a few months back and furnished it over Christmas. They invited us to come around and so Jason and Mel and us drove down there separately, and met up at the apartment. Tress and I arrived some half an hour earlier, and walked on the beach. I couldn’t believe that was the first time I had been to the beach this summer. It felt very nice. Later on, all six of us walked to a nearby café and got some lunch, before heading back to the apartment for drinks and nibbles and chats. We left a few hours later, and arrived home to walk the little fellow.

Later that night, there was the little event of the Australian Open tennis highlight match of the world’s number one player taking on what is hopefully Australia’s ex-brat. Nadal and Kyrgios hadn’t seen eye to eye but Kyrgios appear to be more serious at giving his tennis better effort. I guess he’s growing up now and while he lost to Nadal overnight, I think more Aussies would be prepared to back him now.

I saw an advertisement by the Salvos this morning. It was for a legal role and it’s based in Blackburn. That appears to be a no-brainer so I responded. Let’s see if anything comes out of t hat.

Another busy weekend passed. The busyness was entirely to do with the domestic front. The dirty week, weather wise, meant the lawns, flower beds, etc require another weekend of work. The wagon also needed a service and I had booked it in earlier in the week so that was what we did first thing on Saturday – dropped it off at the mechanic’s.

The night before, we caught up with J & M again for dinner. This time it was at a Malaysian joint in Mount Waverley. We thought we’d let them pick the place for a change, as our Friday night catch-up dinners are usually our pick. As usual, it was a good time of just chatting away. When we got home it was close to 10pm and the conditions had cooled and before long, I felt I was crashing out as I struggled to keep awake while watching tele on the couch.

After dropping off the wagon at the mechanic’s we went home and Tress did a whole lot of weeding while I tidied up the lawns etc. I had the blower on, turned on the vacuum function, and kept it going as much as possible, until it was time to pick up the car before the mechanic finished up on their usual Saturday 1pm close.

We then had lunch in a lovely Japanese café in Ringwood, then did some quick grocery shopping after that and before heading to our usual shopping centre to catch a movie.

“1917” has received really good reviews and I have always been a fan of Sam Mendes so it was a no brainer and Tress had booked the tickets earlier in the week. It was a really good movie.

I often say to Tress one of the really enjoyable things of summer is how late the sun sets. Long days let you do so much more and you just feel better for them. It was nearly 7pm when we finished the movie and got home and there was still plenty of time to walk the little guy for a bit.

On Sunday, Mike continued with the series on 1 Kings and I continue to wonder what I needed to do with my faith journey. Like other aspects of my life, that has settled into a routine, a rhythm, that sometimes makes me feel like I’m not sure where the direction or purpose is. I just “get on with it”, not really knowing where I’m heading. After lunch, we went home and I did the week’s cook, which included roasting some meats on the weber, cooking some cabbages and also doing the little guy’s meals. Towards the end, the forecasted storms made their way in and while it was lovely to see the rain belting down, elsewhere in the surrounding suburbs, there were reports of large hailstones pelting down. It wasn’t until about 6pm that everything was cleaned up and packed away and Tress had also done the breakfast smoothies so we could put our feet up again.

We had been receiving social media and messaging clips about the coming Chinese New Year. A part of me feels glad and relieved that we are not in a community where loads of chaotic noises would pollute the streets, restaurants and shopping malls at this time of the year. Another part of me however, as usual, wished it wasn’t so hard to have family around under circumstances which are far more serene and far less “noisy”. In as much as I’m seeking and asking about purpose and direction, I’m not unhappy we’re just busily “getting on with it”. Living may be it.

As Tress and I walked into our usual Italian joint last Friday night and settled down to end the first week back at work, life felt like it has returned to our normal routine. The weekend certainly saw an ignition of our regular activities that pushed us along that path.

On Sat morning, I headed out to St Alf’s for a sweeping/cleaning duty as Tress started vacuuming the house. It was unusually messy at St Alf’s so the work took longer. I also bumped into Paul W, who had been doing some mowing and whipper snippering and we chatted for a couple of minutes before he took off. Back home, I started to clean up the mess that a hot, windy and gusty week had wrought. Raking, sweeping and blowing, it took a while to sort through the mess to have the outside of the house appear much less strewn and chaotic. When I finished and got back in to clean myself up, the inside of the house too, felt so much fresher for having been cleaned well.

Tress and I then headed out for a late lunch, did some basic grocery shopping before we headed home to get ready for our “Dinner Tonight” duty at New Hope, just down the road from St Alf’s. By the time it finished close to 7pm, I was ready for a feet-up-wine-in-hand winding up of the day. Tress and I certainly slept well that night as we woke only late-ish, and had a quick brekky before heading out to St Alf’s, where Peter delivered the second of the new series on 1 Kings. The story of Solomon’s early reign, sorting through his friends and enemies with his father the ageing and dying David, sounded a bit like Vito advising the younger Corleone, Michael. The passing of the baton from the senior outgoing Godfather to the heir and new head of the family, rang through the message as Peter talked about David advising Solomon to deal with various friends and enemies.

After lunch at our usual place off High Street at “Wong”-Caster, we went home and I gave the cars a wash, cooked the week’s lunches and then had the sprinklers on post mowing and getting ready for the warm week ahead. Again, it was late on before we could put our feet up, and we started on a new series on tele – the “Treadstone” Bourne spin-off.

All the familiar activities took us back into our routine which in turn took my mind off the troubling bushfires that appear to have ebbed. Threats of huge fires continue to burn at the Alpine, and holiday destinations along the South Coast of NSW and Gippsland continue to dust away the aftermath in attempts to resume business. Some places urged the public to return, saying at the same time however, that they weren’t ready to take bookings for another week. For those folks so badly affected, I bet they couldn’t wait to return to their routines too.

It has been a horrid start to the year, and the Queen may want to put 2020 down as a leading contender for “annus horribilis”.

The fires here in Oz have raged furiously and are now said to be the worst the country as a whole has ever experienced. Then there was the assassination of an Iranian general by the US, that lead to a barrage of missile being fired by Iran, on to US bases in Iraq. Then a Ukrainian commercial plane crashed in Tehran, killing about 170 people.

Against such horrid backdrops, I’ve been in a a pretty ordinary mood. When I then saw a message in a chat group that felt like a gigantic signal for a fight or flight response, the answer became clear in my mind. I did a quick thanks-but-no-thanks response to that message and exited that chat group.

For weeks now, that chat group has been discussing a drive from Sydney to Melbourne, after a wedding . That drive was going to comprise a group of 12. I stayed away for a little while but some comments about this being an opportunity for family to do stuff together, got me sucked in, much against my instinct and preference. I thought I’d put aside those instincts and preferences and give the family doing stuff together bit, a chance. I should have stuck to my guns because no sooner had I decided to join that drive that the father of the bride wrote to me asking if I could lead that drive.

He said it would help him if I took the lead on the drive, as he would be tied up with the wedding stuff. Again, I should have remained strong and declined but when someone from the (albeit extended) family asked for help that way, it’s hard to say no. Again, I had seen this (being asked to lead the drive) coming when I decided to come along for the drive, so I should have not chosen to come along in the first place.

With the fires raging through much of NSW and Victoria, Tress and I thought about whether we could do an alternate route instead. That set of a chain of communications that confirmed my worst fears – this was going to be a difficult bunch to “lead”. You are asked to “lead”, but really, what they want is for you to do the work to execute their wishes.  That became apparent when what we said were ignored, and they would do things they had wanted to do anyway.  I said “they” but it really is what I’ve called a “tribe” within the larger family, where anyone outside that tribe will get no bite or time of day, and whatever anyone within that tribe throws up will be grabbed and embraced, no matter what others in the family (who are non-tribe folks) think.

It was for that “tribe”-within-the family reason that I had, maybe a couple of years ago now, left another chat group that had heaps of people in the family. I felt then already, that unless the “speaker” was someone in that tribe, whatever was said would get little or no traction. Whereas no matter how trite or silly a tribe person would say, it would get loads of traction and nods. I have to clarify that this tribe has a bit of a concentric feature; a few would be nearer to the core and would get the most traction. Someone on the next circle would still be part of the tribe and get traction. But the circles end abruptly and someone like me would be so far outside the outer circle I might as well be even beyond the family corroboree line. I didn’t take much for me to exit that group.

When I exited this “road trip” group, after announcing I was going to “un-join” the trip, a great sense of relief took over. If the planning was so fraught, I imagine the trip itself would be just… “fun”. I’m actually glad I out of all that, and regret agreeing to come along and even more so, for agreeing to “lead” the drive. Someone outside a tribe would always be up the creek without a paddle in that tribe, and can never “lead” that tribe. Not all family are equal I guess.