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There are more than 200 results, only the first 200 are displayed here.
There was a love that manifested in my house that needed no naming. It transcended adjectives or nouns. We were so playful to the extent we tried our mother's dresses, skirts, blouses. In days when I felt the fullness of my mischievousness, I dressed like my mother or sister and ran out of the house to make people laugh. There was no fuss about it.
All right, Chongqing, let my dry skin fall in love with your moisture, my eyes used to the desolation and wind and sand ... Your sudden flashes of lightning and thunder, commotion of dripping water, and the heaving quietness, the fate of history.
I did not need to put in much effort to imagine what such a ban would feel like. I have already experienced more rigid when I studied in Dubai and in India. I used to witness more interaction among students and more studious class environments in these places than what I do now in a private Victorian secondary college.
I closed my eyes to draw new thought. When I reopened them an empty stone slab lay before me in a cavern rough-hollowed but flooded with a light that had penetrated its roof. Mary hovered in the light, as a gull is both sea and air, in a flowing robe, her outstretched hand bearing the cincture I would need to recount the mystery to the others.
This was the nerve touched by Bill Shorten when he spoke of his mother's lost opportunities. Women who shared their own mothers' stories in response under the #MyMum hashtag did so with an acute awareness of both the gulf that separated them from their mothers, and the entrenched structural discrimination that remains.
The work of charities, including the generous work of volunteers, should not be a means of letting governments off the hook. People do not want to have to rely on charity; they want to be able to count on justice. And charity is never a substitute for justice. But it becomes so when governments abrogate their responsibilities.
A lady with tears in her eyes asked if I was Muslim. I told her that I am. She asked it if would it be okay if she came in and said a prayer. 'Of course,' I replied. She knelt, quietly sobbing, and said a few words. I also knelt and recited a few verses from the Quran. We were complete strangers sharing a unique and emotional moment.
Several incidents in Australia this week highlight the inherent challenges of undertaking travel which people in the Australian disabled community have long understood. Travel is neither completely accessible nor inclusive, even in 2019. I know this from experience. I have low vision and I'm profoundly deaf in one ear.
My relationship to Catholicism can be summed up as: I am on the outskirts, yet close and invested enough to care how the Church evolves. Because, it seems to me, how it evolves and the speed at which those urgent and essential changes take place will significantly determine whether it will survive — and whether it deserves to survive.
Mary Oliver, who died recently, came to realise it's not just kneeling and kissing the ground that needs to be encouraged, but that the natural world itself, which fed and sustained her creatively and emotionally for a lifetime, is now endangered. We are in danger of wrecking creation.
Just as prayers and sacrifices did not measure the true holiness of the Pharisees, so too has sexual propriety provided a false measure of closeness to God in the West. If someone has multiple sex partners but is helpful to strangers, are they better or worse than someone who has only slept with their spouse but is racist or unkind?
This remarkable policy of what Dr Eve Lester calls 'planned destitution' combines the most extreme instincts of neoliberal, nationalist and authoritarian thinking. Fundamentally, it derives from the Minister for Home Affairs' far reaching powers to determine the rights and entitlements of non-citizens such as people seeking asylum.
37-48 out of 200 results.