|Nov 3, 2021 7:49 PM (2 days ago)|
It’s me. Coming from the technological universe. Ya know, the digital age and all. More and more, we are moving our lives online. Sometimes I don’t know where we begin and end. It’s almost like we have invested a part of our souls in the ethernet. Internet… whatever.
I’ve been pondering how our lives are slowly starting to settle back into a rhythm again. I can’t help but wonder about the endless possibilities of technology, how it expands, and how our stories will continue to unfold through digital space. Sometimes these stories don’t translate… like a Friday night family FaceTime, simultaneously heartwarming and chaotic.
We often sit in silence with our phones; a portal into each other’s lives. We speak about what we could be, where we could go and who we could meet. We laugh, breathe out slowly, letting out frustrated sighs as we imagine places beyond our four walls. Ah, that reminds me, I need to download a firewall… I digress.
Sis, we send multiple weekly emails to each other, out into the virtual void, hoping that our words will eventually circle back. We hope to connect with our mob and community through the smattering of pixels on our screen.
Since Invasion, our gathering places have been in constant movement, a consequence of forced displacement. Our people have always known curfews and isolation, but we have also known how to create the space we need to survive together.
We understand that connection comes in many different forms. The digital is just one space we have adapted to in order to survive. Many elements of our culture, our storytelling and our futures, have long since moved online, where they continue to flourish.
Being away from our families, the waterways and the bush has taken its toll on our spirit. I miss Latje Latje Country where I grew up. I miss the river, the saltbush, the mallee heat and the quandong trees.
As our people have always done we adapt to change, re-imagining the ways we wish to connect with one another and share our stories. Our people have had no choice but to survive – and thrive – in the ways we know how. We keep going, we keep yarning and we keep hoping that one day soon we can hold each other in our arms again.
The emails with stories from afar, the workshop zoom rooms, the phone yarns and the family FaceTimes have anchored us to our communities. And we have (kindasorta) made it.
Whenever we yarn, we ask each other “how are you doing?”. Our replies are bot-like and slow. “Good”, we say. I hope one day when we reply “good”, we can say it genuinely, hopefully, and with intention.
The last while has been a tiresome technological experience. But it’s been a comfort to realise that through all this madness, our people are still writing, sharing, imagining and practising deep love for our culture, our Country, each other and our loved ones.
Through all this madness we remain resilient and strong.