When the Universe Whispers

 A few years ago, after my husband died, I left the city and moved to a regional seaside town. It wasn’t a grand plan, just a quiet need to start again somewhere that didn’t hold so many memories, and to be closer to family. I found myself in a place marked with the number 10.

As someone who is deeply spiritual and believes strongly in numerology, that number didn’t stay insignificant for long. Ten is often seen as a number of renewal, a return to self, a new cycle beginning after everything has been stripped back. At the time, I didn’t fully understand the effect it would have on my life. Looking back now, it feels like the beginning of something I was only just stepping into.

What I didn’t expect was what came with it.

Nearby were people who would become far more than neighbours. Aria and Camille (names changed for privacy) in particular became part of my everyday life. Camille arrived in our street just a few months after I did, moving in across the road. She too was a widow, and we bonded over that shared understanding that doesn’t need much explanation.

Camille was theatrical, outgoing, and often delightfully outrageous in the best possible way. Aria, my next-door neighbour, was our gentle, beautiful hippie, grounded and warm, alongside her much-admired husband. Then there were my other wonderful neighbours, let’s call them Rose and John, who also became part of this small, close-knit circle.

The girls shared adventures, and all of us fell into a rhythm of weekly get-togethers at each other’s homes. There were wonderful conversations, much laughter, small acts of kindness, and that steady, quiet presence that, over time, helps you rebuild without even realising it. They helped me find myself again, drawing me out of grief and back into life. And they all loved animals, which, to me, mattered more than I can properly explain.

Life moved on, as it does. Camille and I eventually relocated to another part of the district, but the friendships held. They had already grown beyond streets and postcodes.

Then, somewhere along the way, Camille and I had a falling out. It happens. Life gets complicated, words go unsaid, or said the wrong way, and before you know it, years pass. In our case, three of them. No calls, no messages, just silence where there had once been connection.

During that time, Camille moved away. Then moved again. Eventually she settled about two and a half hours south of where Aria and I now live.

Things might have stayed that way.

But early in 2025, I heard that Camille’s much-loved dog had died. Anyone who has ever loved an animal knows how deep that loss runs. I reached out, not knowing how it would be received, only knowing it felt like the right thing to do.

What I didn’t expect was what I would learn next.

Camille had been in hospital for months following a brain operation meant to stop her falling. It hadn’t worked. What followed was more than a year of her life caught in a cycle of hospital stays, setbacks, and uncertainty. We began speaking regularly on the phone. Her daughter lives in London with her family, and Camille had no one close by. The isolation she experienced is something I won’t fully unpack here, but it was profound.

By November, I found myself helping her move back to the area where Aria and I live. It wasn’t a simple decision or an easy transition. It came after the difficult reality that Camille could no longer safely live on her own. She was told she needed aged care.

That’s where she is now. Bed bound. Working, day by day, to relearn how to walk. Holding onto the belief, as I, Aria and wonderful team at Lakeside do, that this is not where Camille’s story ends. Far too young to find herself having to face that. 

At the same time, Aria is navigating a loss of her own, having recently lost her husband. And somehow, the three of us, two who have already walked that road and one just beginning it, have found ourselves supporting each other in ways none of us could have predicted.

Camille, from where she is, still gives strength, whether she realises it or not.

Aria, in the midst of grief, carries a quiet gentleness that continues to hold space for others.

And I find myself alongside them both, remembering what it is to rebuild and trying to offer something of that back to both of them. 

It would be easy to look at all of this and say that everything happened for a reason. And as someone who believes in signs, in patterns, in the language of numbers, I do sometimes wonder.

The number 10. A new beginning.

A separation that lasted three years, another number often tied to growth and realignment.

A return, not planned, but arriving at exactly the moment it was needed.

Camille and I arriving in the same place, at the same time in our lives, and finding ourselves surrounded by neighbours who would quietly help us rebuild. Two women, both carrying loss, not realising then how much we would come to rely on each other. What began as proximity became connection, and connection became support, each of us, in our own way, helping the other find a path forward when life had shifted beneath us.

Maybe there are threads we don’t always see at the time. Maybe there are moments that gently guide us back toward each other.

But I don’t think it’s as simple as everything being pre-written.

Because even if the signs are there… we still have to choose.

A message sent after years of silence.

A decision to show up.

A willingness to step back into someone’s life when it would have been easier not to.

And that, perhaps, is where the real meaning lies.

Not just in the belief that everything happens for a reason, but in the way we respond to the signs when they appear. The way we act on them. The way we become part of the reason someone else gets through.

Three women. Different paths. Periods of connection, of distance, and of return.

And somehow, when it matters most, we are here for each other.

Not only because the universe may have whispered…

But because we listened.

It’s a story of beginnings, of returns, and of the remarkable ways people can become each other’s reason to keep going.

Because in the end, it’s not just the universe whispering, it’s us, listening, responding, and walking forward together.

The story of Camille, Aria, and Kate is not just about loss or hardship. It’s about the quiet power of connection, the strength we find in each other, and the choices we make to show up when it matters most. It’s about noticing the signs the universe places before us, and then taking action to create meaning, love, and support.

It’s a story of beginnings, of returns, and of the remarkable ways people can become each other’s reason to keep going, when the universe whispers. And all of us can do that. 

You do not get over grief. You can only learn to walk alongside it.

I haven’t had a black cloud day for a long time, but I’m having one today. Black cloud days remind us that healing is not a straight line; even after long periods of stability, these darker days can return. Some describe them as the counterpart to “blue sky days” — moments when someone feels lighter, more at peace, or even hopeful again. Both are part of the natural rhythm of mourning. They come from nowhere. 

Importantly, having black cloud days doesn’t mean we are “going backwards” — it’s part of carrying the grief which never leaves us. I’ve learnt not to fight days like this and to just let the emotions of the day play out. 

I just keep reminding myself that this is a grief wave and it will pass and it will.

The separation of time

I’ve never been one who was that enthusiastic about celebrating my milestone events like wedding anniversaries or birthdays. Albeit I love recognising and celebrating other people’s milestone events. Whilst I was fortunate to have a wonderful marriage, Richard and I usually forgot our anniversary. We even forgot our first. Much to the dismay of my mother-in-law, Richard’s step-mother Lillian. But Richard loved birthdays, and I enjoyed organising special celebrations for him. Whilst I wasn’t that excited about mine, it made him happy to do something special for me, and he had excellent taste, which meant beautiful gifts which were always gratefully received.

Since Richard died, those dates and others take on a new meaning. They are no longer days to forget or ignore. They are a reminder of another event that he missed. My birthday this week is the first of the year 10 events. His absence is painfully highlighted by each of those special days. And in heading towards the 10-years this coming December since he passed is hard. It seems such a longtime ago, but in so many ways it feels like yesterday. And it's hard to explain, but to me 10-years feels like such a significant milestone.  

I have said many times that we get on with life because we have no choice. Tomorrow, things will be back to normal as life goes on until I hit the next milestone event, being Richard’s birthday in October. Forever there will always be those events that continue to remind me of what I’ve lost. 

And the separation of time is challenging because it represents another step away from the life I had and the future we planned. That doesn’t mean I don’t have a good life now, it’s just not the one I wanted.

When We Learn To Be The Willow

There comes a time for all of us when we come face-to-face with unbelievable hardships in life. The death of our life partner is the most profound. Sadly, an inevitability of being human. And facing this hardship and dealing with it is something that life’s wisdom gets around to teaching us. It is a very hard lesson to learn but, “bouncing back” is a central part of the human condition.

How we face grief and cope with it is different for all of us, albeit the emotional roller coaster is the same. It takes time to accept the reality of a new life, and fighting grief makes it harder. Something dare I say I learnt the hard way. Not uncommon for those of us who are skilled at dealing with crisis. We are experts at shifting into must do mode and we file the overwhelming emotional side away. At some point that comes back, and we are forced to deal with it. It is at that point we “hit the wall”.

So like the Willow, when we learn to bend with the winds of adversity (grief) that’s the time we learn how to grow again in times of profound change.

The Importance of Storytelling

When we have the courage to share our stories, it enables others to understand that they are not alone, that many of us are going through the same things. That, in turns helps others to find the courage to share their own journey. When you are struggling, just feeling safe in sharing those experiences is vital. 

When we rebuild our lives and we share that, that inspires others to try something different. Knowing we are helping others gives meaning back to us. Thus, the ripple effect begins. Never underestimate how powerful that is. 

It Will Never Just Be Another Day

 The dilemma of explaining it’s not just another day. Even after nearly seven years, I still (inwardly) struggle with this. In a week’s time, October 2 is my husband’s birthday. Two months after on December 8 will be the anniversary of his death, the 7th since his passing. In a discussion with my brother yesterday, he said, “But it’s really just another day, isn’t it?” That felt like stab through my heart.

He didn’t say it to be unkind because he loved my husband and misses him. He also loves me. He was trying (in a clumsy way) to be helpful. But as we know, those who have not been through the loss of the person they shared every aspect of their life with can ever understand that it is not just another day. It’s the day we relive every minute of the last birthday or the last day of their life. It’s the day that we think about everything that has been taken from us. It’s the day that we have to accept all over again that they’re never coming back. No it is not just another day.

I went on to explain that for 363 days of the year I get on with living life but on those two anniversary days I’m back to where I started. Time does not change that. It will never just be another day for me.

The Victim Shield

Life can be hard and conflicting. Whilst some are rejoicing in a new life, others are dealing with death. Or trying to come to terms with what is ahead. It is in moments like this that we ask so many questions.

 Why are they so happy and I’m at the depths of despair?

 

Why did they take my husband?

 

Why am I the one left to cope with this?

 

I wasn’t prepared for this. Why me?

 

How can I face life on my own? I’m not ready!

 

There are so many whys. We simply don’t know what the answers are and so we do our best to figure out how to deal with it. We often have to battle resentment toward those who appear to have everything. We doubt ourselves. Worst of all, it is so very easy to take on the mantle of victim. Why me? Why am I left here? Why do I have to suffer the pain of loss? If we aren’t careful and without being aware of it, why and I become our Victim Shield. When we are in that space, it’s very hard to be positive about anything.

 

I’ve been in a bit of dark space these last few days. Not because of my loss, I’ve learnt to deal with that and have a good life now. It is a loss that is to come, that of a much loved nephew who is entering the final stages of terminal cancer. I’ve asked the why question many times. Why him, why them? He still has half his life ahead of him. I also know what his equally loved wife is facing. Thinking about this has surfaced the dark days of dealing with my husband’s death, albeit his was very sudden. When I find myself in places like this, I find solace on my beach.

 

I live on the east coast of Australia. We are currently witnessing the aftermath of the underwater volcano eruption off Tonga along our shores. When I was watching the surf yesterday, I was reminded the reality is life is full of ebbs and flows just like the oceans. And when things happen, particularly when we aren’t prepared for them, it’s so easy to put up the Victim Shield. That is exactly what I had been doing since hearing the news from my nephew. The endless why me? Why our family again? Haven’t we lost enough already? How am I going to cope with another loss? Me, me, me! 

 

But the ocean will settle again just as we all will despite what we believe. Why? Because everything in life is temporary. Nothing is permanent. Life itself is temporary, and why should we be spared from loss when others aren’t? The pain and fear I was experiencing these last few days will be temporary.

 

Whilst sometimes in life, things happen that seem unfair, inexplicable or challenging. If we can find the courage to open our hearts and minds and acknowledge we’re being guided to our destiny and that certain experiences are necessary for our growth, then there is the glimmer of hope that we will emerge stronger and better equipped to help others. That’s what life is really all about, helping each other. That helps us find our purpose and meaning in death. 

 

 

Before you turn the light out tonight…

I wrote this for people on a Facebook Community I’m a part of for people who have lost their husbands or wives. However, it applies to anyone dealing with death or loss of any kind. Even those of us who are finding just surviving day in, day out is a struggle. 

The Power of Yet

Losing our life partner, for most of us, is the hardest thing we have ever had (or will ever have) to deal with. And it is for the rest of our life that we have to. It is not one of those things that we just “get-over” or cure. It can be utterly debilitating and it can so easy to just give up. 

However, I’m a believer that we can and need to keep going. It’s not easy by any stretch but those who loved us (and still do) would want us to at least try. That is where the Power of Yet can play a very important role. 

If we just pick one thing we can’t do and change how we deal with that, it can and will make a difference. Once we have fixed one, move onto the next thing. Just work through the list one at a time and as we tick each one off, our lives will change. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, we simply work at our own pace. 

Life may never be as happy or filled with love that it once was, but we can find peace and contentment. That is so much better than where many of us were and, sadly, many still are. So each time we hit a wall and can not do something rather than say I can not do this, add YET. ♥️♥️♥️

I posted this on a community page I share for people who have lost their husbands or wives. But this principle can apply to any challenge in life not just dealing with grief. Changing how we approach obstacles can make all the difference. 

Something Special Happened To Me Today

I was walking on the beach searching for shells. Shells are usually perceived as feminine; a symbol of birth, good fortune, and resurrection. We could all do with some good fortune. 

On the way down to the beach, I walked by a Scottish Thistle. It reminded me of my childhood in the country. We used to wait for them to dry and go a beautiful silver and we’d used them as chandeliers in our cubby house. It was a nice memory but nothing more that the time. 

I was walking along the waters edge trying to spy a nice shell specimen but it’s very hard to find perfect shells on an open coastline like ours. I’d walked some distance and couldn’t find anything that wasn’t broken. Then I was suddenly struck by an overwhelming feeling of loneliness. Lonely in the sense of missing those who have left, particularly Richard and of course my mum, dad, and sister. I felt very sad, very alone

However, I kept walking and then I realised in front of me was one beautiful shell after another. I picked up three. On the way back, I looked for a shady area to just rest and breathe in the salt air. I found a rocky spot at the edge of the sand near the bush and sat down. I looked to my side and to my amazement there on the rock was this beautiful, slightly weather-worn but almost perfect shell. I picked it up to add to the three I already had. 

I wasn’t far from the steps leading up to the walkway home and a beautiful black and white border collie raced up to me. I had noticed her sitting with her owner. He waved and I waved back. She reminded me of my childhood border collie, Lassie. I found out her name is Emmie. She is a beautiful dog, I could have easily stolen her. 

So what is the amazing bit? I believe when people leave us, they still keep an eye out for us. Particularly in those moments when we are feeling low. They show us they’re around in leaving signs. Two of the people most dear to me showed me today; my dad and my Richard. 

My dad always told us how amazing our chandeliers were. He also knew how special Lassie was to me. Richard knows I love shells and symbolism. You see we never truly walk alone despite how we feel at times. 

Just those three little things; a thistle, a shell and a dog can have so much meaning. They certainly did for me today. 

The Influence of Numbers in Our life

When a partner dies we never believe we will be able to live again. I know I thought that way. But time and our approach and most importantly the positive influences in our lives proves otherwise for most of us. Yesterday was one of those major turning point for me. What strikes me is the influence of the number 6 and the impact that is having on my life. 

Anniversaries, following the death of a loved one are never easy. Yesterday, being my birthday was the first anniversary day of the 6th year. 

I’ve never been that into celebrating events, but Richard was. He always made a big deal out of my birthday. The last five years I’ve dreaded my birthday and usually spent the day by myself having a good old sob. Or putting on a brave face until I could escape back to the sanctuary of home and then feeling utterly miserable. 

But yesterday, being the 6th without him, was completely the opposite. I had a great day with not one hint of sadness. Just brilliant company, fabulous food and wine, and lots of laughs. Not one tear was shed, and I just thought that Richard would have loved the day. 

So, where does 6 come into it? Well, it’s the 6th birthday without him. April 17: I’m moving into my number 6 house. April is the 4th month; add 4,1,7 = 12 div by 2 = 6. 

The number 6 is the most harmonious and caring number. It projects the attributes of charm (I might have to work on this one 😊), amity, love, care, compassion, friendship, insight, health, beauty. It is the only number that has more positive qualities and less negative qualities when compared to any other number. 

A house number 6 promotes the artistic expression of the dweller. It’s the perfect home for people who love cooking (I’ve just got back into that) painting, writing and music (my passions). Dwellers also like symmetry and refinement. 

I have a good life and I’m very grateful for what I have. However, since Richard died, there’s always that black cloud hanging above. On anniversary days that’s when it’s the blackest. After yesterday I feel that cloud is not so black, and it’s moved higher up and that is such a great feeling. 

I can’t wait to see how the rest of year six turns out and I just know it’s going to be fabulous.

Finding The Artists of the Spirit

 Last week a friend posted this. It happens to be one of my favourite pieces. 

“I have learnt to surf the waves of anguish which roll through, the waves now less frequent and less intense.” 

It’s a beautiful statement that was written by Monica Zwolsman when telling her story of being widowed twice and facing the death of her 16-month-old son. Her book is well worth a read. 

Monica prefaced her waves statement in saying. “Of course the deep sorrow and horror of my past never go away and it is always lurking in the neighbourhood of my mind. But I have learnt to surf the waves of anguish which roll through, the waves now less frequent and less intense.” 

I resonate with that. She is right; the waves do become less frequent and intense, but now and then they do rise and viciously crash over me. This is one of those weeks. It’s a combination of several things, but mainly the fact that I’m about to embark on another major life change. Another one that Richard won’t share. With each change, the threads to my past life become ever more fragile and thin as the chapters of my new life are written. 

So in search of motivation I found this beautiful piece written by ~ Joshua Loth Liebman. 

“The melody that the loved one played upon the piano of your life will never be played quite that way again, but we must not close the keyboard and allow the instrument to gather dust. We must seek out other artists of the spirit, new friends who gradually will help us to find the road to life again, who will walk the road with us.”

So what does finding my artists of the spirit really mean. After a bit of soul searching and exploring, this is what it means to me. 

When we dig deeper into our being, we understand that we have so many pressures in life. It’s understandable that many of us feel overwhelmed, pushed and pulled. It’s not only by the pressures we place on ourselves, but it’s by the emotions and manipulations of others. When that happens, we get out of balance; we’re not centred. That’s when we stray, off course. With that, we give or leak our power, away. 

When that happens we lose our energy. That makes us tired, unmotivated and even afraid. If this goes on long enough, we become sick and even depressed. We don’t always speak our truth because we are afraid we’ll lose love and connection. But in not doing so, we often lose the love and connection with ourselves. 

On reflection, finding the artists of the spirit is about finding ourselves. Taking back our power and speaking our truth. Cleansing our souls and our surroundings of negativity. It is about our deeper spirituality. The spirituality of how we live life day by day, moment by moment. It is the way we do what we do and the energy, quality, sincerity, determination, attention, character we carry for living our life. The foot prints and energy we leave as we go. 

I said to a friend last week that I wanted to get back to a simple life. That means the connection of body, mind, energy and spirit. Combining the four elements air, fire, water and earth.

The Element of Air represents our mental body - our mind, thinking, perceptions and analysing. 

The Element of Fire represents energy and our energetic body. The action of fire is about movement–in body, mind, energy and life.

The Element of Water represents our emotional body. The action of water is opening, flow and fluidity. 

The Element of Earth represents our physical body and the action of earth is supporting and nourishing ourselves - inside and out.

Today I took the first step in creating my new environment. I went down to my new home and burnt white sage to purify the place and cleanse it of negative energy. I will at least start with a clean slate. Exploring my artists of the spirit will be a fascinating journey. 

MY NEW TREE - I’VE NAMED HER FAITH

I spied this tree on the walk to Rainbow Beach. It reminds me of the last 12-months. Doing major things on your own and facing enormous challenges on your own isn’t easy. Especially when you haven’t had to do that ever in your life. 

When I spied this tree, it reminded me of my last 12-months. Settling in to a new community and making new friends. Dealing with the emotional ties of letting go of the past. Facing droughts and trying to save my precious garden. The fires added another challenge. There were many sleepless nights during that time. Then the restrictions of COVID, which meant spending more time home-based than I wanted to. None of those things in isolation are earth shattering. However, when they come one after the other, the pressure mounts, the cracks show.

So, as I approach year-end, I have two more big tests to face. The 5th anniversary of Richard’s death on December 8. Our wedding anniversary December 16. I feel this year they’ll be much easier because of the year it’s been. 

Every day when I walk by this tree in 2021 I’ll say thank you for reminding me that no matter what, if I believe and I have hope I’ll survive. Nature is a brilliant teacher and a great healer, if you just take the time to look and to relate. ♥️♥️♥️

The Book of Me

Life has a way of steering us in the right direction if we are open to trusting our inner voice and if we have the courage to ‘just do it’.. 

I’ve been on an enormous personal journey over the last three years and nine months. It has almost been overwhelming. At other times it’s been enlightening. In the last two weeks I’ve understood how far away from my true self I’ve been for such a long time. I guess that’s a symptom of living with someone else. Over time ‘me’ becomes ‘we’ and the ‘me’ adapts to that. Often in that process we lose some of who we are as individual people. That said, I wouldn’t have changed any of my past life for anything. But for us to move on we need to find us again. That’s difficult because it’s like a rebirth. 

I think of it as being like the cicada breaking out of its shell. After 2 - 17 years (underground), cicadas emerge from the ground as nymphs. Nymphs climb the nearest tree and begin the process of shedding their nymph exoskeleton. Free of their old skin, their wings will inflate with fluid and their adult skin will harden. Once their new wings and body are ready, they can begin their adult life.They transition from one life to the next. That’s what those dealing with grief have to do. It is what I’ve been doing; transitioning. I’ve a little way to go but I’m almost there. 

Which brings me to my new home. The moment I walked in the front door I knew I was home. Even my brother commented on that. I committed to buy within 15 minutes the connection was so strong. I believe in the influence of numbers and my new house number is 10 which converts to a 1 number. The 1 home is a place to show independence. I’ve always been independent. But the rest is interesting & explains my immediate connection. 

It’s all about “#1” the 0 softens the harsher edges of 1 and 1 energy promotes innovation, individuality, ambition, drive and leadership. 

People who live in a 10 home will be encouraged to keep their independence. Living in a number 10 home also teaches them about self-confidence, about courage, determination, and most importantly falling forward. 

I like the falling forward bit...it’s an adaption from John Maxwell’s “failing forward’. The hardest step is always the first one. Fear of failing is something all of us are challenged by. But, we can’t let fear be the excuse. It’s proceeding despite it. This is the scariest thing I’ve ever done but knowing where I’m going has made it feel less fearful. 

And losing someone batters your self-confidence and courage. Which has been a real challenge for me as someone who has always been confident and taken risks. When Richard died I ended up the exact opposite very quickly. It’s one of the reasons why I needed to move.

In Feng Shui a 10 home symbolises the energy of new beginnings, a freshness, an open and unobstructed flow. That’s perfect. My new home is all about openness and free flow. 

I have to drive by a memorial garden to get to my new home. I will put Richard to rest there. He can’t live in the bookcase forever. I had his ashes put into 2 urns when he died. My plan was to take one back to the UK to be with his mum & dad. But I’m not doing that now. One will go into the memorial garden. One we’re scattering off Rainbow Beach at sunset. There will be bubbles (Pol Roger his favourite) sharing the most wonderful memories and lots of laughter. I know he will always be close by keeping a watchful eye. 

Someone whose opinion I’ve learnt to value said yesterday, “The fact that it is a ‘you’ place and a whole new life spins off from there must be really energising.” It is. Now I understand why I had such an immediate connection. It will be where I become me again. It’s also such a relief to know that my little fur ball and I won’t be homeless. We’ve only a week between settling on our current home and our new one. I know Aslan will love it. 

So on October 15 when I pick up the keys, I will finally close the chapters on one book, open the door and start writing the first chapter of my new book. 

The Book of Me 

Facebook Memories

I love Facebook memories but they can confront. Particularly when they’re reminders of sad times and the loss of loved ones.  At other times I sit and shake my head and say to myself, “What on earth was that about!” This morning a photo of Richard (one of my favourites) along with this message popped up in my memories feed. 

“It’s been 15-weeks today since Richard passed away. It was close to this time in fact around 9:35am. I still can not believe that he won’t be back. But at least I have lovely pics like this to remind me of him. He was never happier than sitting in the pub on a chilly winters days in the company of friends & family.”

Do you know the lovely thing about this? I could look at that photo and read what I wrote and not burst into tears. I smiled and had a silent chuckle about that day at the Still & West in Old Portsmouth. 

In 2016 when people told me that would happen I never believed them. But it does. It’s doesn’t mean the hole left in a heart ever mends. I doesn’t. But, at some point you find a place of peace, the pain eases and you give thanks for the happy memories. For me (thankfully) there were many. That is why creating happy memories is so very, very important. 

Sanober Khan wrote in the Turquoise Silence. 

Some winters will never melt

Some summers will never freeze

And some things will only live in poems.

And for some of us some things will only live on in memories. Treasure them. 

This Is NOT OK!!!!

The Australian’s Greg Sheridan wrote a powerful piece today. They headed it “In face of racist terror, we are all Muslims today.” 

The mere reference ‘we are all Muslims today’ inflamed many. Despite it being a reference to solidarity. As a result, people ignored the key points. That is all too often the case today. 

Greg Sheridan said, “You get attention on the net by being more extreme, more emotional, more foul-mouthed, than the next fellow.” That comment is true, and it should concern all of us. The change in many people over the years has been stark. People who were engaging and polite are now some of the most abusive and foul-mouthed I’ve come across. The level of hate expressed is alarming the tribe behaviour most times out of control. I can understand how nutcases like Brenton Tarrant prosper in environments like that when I see ordinary people (mums, dads, grandparents) being turned into hate-filled abusers. 

I read Tarrant’s manifesto last night. I don’t believe he was the original author of much of the content. It appeared obvious he’d cut and pasted a lot. but, it was chilling reading. There are people out there who would be motivated to act based on what he posted just as the words of others inspired him. It’s terrifying. 

Far too often the words used to describe mass murderers becomes the key focus rather than dealing with the actions. There was a comment posted thanking Greg Sheridan for not referring to Tarrant as a right-wing extremist unlike and to quote, “our unintelligent Prime Minister did.” These same people erupt when Muslim terrorists are not named Muslim terrorist or extremists. Well they can’t have it both ways. It’s obvious Brenton Tarrant is a far-right extremist. Well done to the Prime Minister for saying that. We have to get our heads out of the sand and deal with the reality. 

Every time something like this massacre happens we say let their deaths not be in vain. Every time we say something has to be done but nothing ever changes. Why? Because it’s people who spread hate and division. The questions we never ask as a society is why people think it’s OK to behave like a pack of foul-mouth feral animals on the Internet? What impact is this behaviour having on the mental welfare of people? Why as a society are we not standing up on mass and saying this is NOT OK!!!