For me, there is no greater sense of home than the drive into Mullumbimby.
I face the mountain, she shows herself to me, and then on my approach she slips away, and then she’s back - like Mother Earth playing peek-a-boo. This hide and reveal is a portent of the magic of a community that can’t be easily articulated. A community of diverse opinions that manage to live harmoniously together.
Or did.
Side note: Everything that's happening in Sydney right now. Post continues below.
Covid has ripped our rainbow flag in two. Our beliefs have been polarised to such an extent that there no longer is a middle ground. Our tolerance of each other has faded. Our mountain has gone.
I realised walking the beach this morning how deeply this has affected me. I feel this overwhelming grief – like something I have loved has broken. There is a disharmony in my community I have never felt before.
I see it when a man in his seventies screams at a 16-year-old retail assistant about his sovereign rights not to wear a mask or QR code in. When a mask-wearing midwife is yelled at for being a sheep outside the IGA. And when I can no longer go to the café I have frequented for the past 15 years because the staff aren’t wearing masks and are playing know your rights anti-mask material rather than music.