Envy

I am very envious these days.

I am not envious of the rich, or the powerful, or the famous.

I am envious of indigenous Australian (or as they are better known, Aborigines).

I envy their practice of "going walkabout". Going walkabout is a temporary return to indigenous life between periods in the dominant white Australian culture. Some people go walkabout between periods of schooling; others go walkabout between jobs.

Of course, I am not aboriginal; I am a white, (nominally) Protestant, male. In other words, I am representative of the white lifestyle that the indigenous Australians are walking away from. That doesn't mean, however, that I don't feel the same powerful urges to return to my roots when modern post-industrial Western culture threatens to overwhelm my very existence.

The trouble is that I have no roots to return to. I was born in Saskatchewan, but I moved as a child. I have nobody to see there and no places with special memories. I lived in several mid-western American states, but have no concrete ties with anyone there. I attended high school and university in British Columbia, but despite the fact that my entire family lives there, it never feels like home when I return. Nor do I feel at home in Ontario.

Perhaps that is why I envy the indigenous Australians. They do have a place to go back to. They have a culture and a geography to return to. They have a connection to the generations who have been here before them. All I have is Toronto.