Born To Run, At Any Cost....

IMAGE : HERALDSUN.COM.AU | Born To Run, At Any Cost

Anyone else feeling sad and generally uncomfortable about the outcome of this year's Melbourne Cup? I am.

It's going to sound weird and as though I've just discovered my conscience, but I'm harbouring these sudden feelings of unease given the fact that I've never really given a lot of heartfelt consideration to the ugly side of a sport which can at times, be fully (or at least partly) responsible for the untimely death of defenceless animals. My sense of unease is about both my own lack of objection prior to now and also about my own realisation of what potentially takes place behind the scenes in the racing industry; in the darker shadows of the sport. I would never attend a rodeo, a dog fight and I even detest fishing so I wonder why that one day in November has always simply passed me by as an ordinary event and even at times as a welcome part of the social calendar? 

Before anyone jumps on me about one-off freak incidents, about an objection to banning the sport outright and that one should be a vegetarian to be truly pro animal rights, let it be said that this is just about my own new found feelings of unease towards the 'sport' we call horse racing, not a self-righteous rant about what the world should do and not do. I'm not standing up loudly calling for a ban (although it would be nice in a perfect world, but as we know the world ain't perfect). I'm simply feeling sad about the death of two horses after a race which is well known to be one of the most gruelling, even for the fittest, most enthusiastic thoroughbred. I'm annoyed at my own prior ambivalence and general naivety and I guess I'm now against putting these animals through something that once may have suited their "born to run" nature, but at times maybe not.

Finding Your Passion - A Nine Year Old's Big Issue

It seems I have my first guest blogger. She's smart, funny, a great thinker and she's about to turn ten.  Recently, she's been a little concerned by the fact that she hasn't found her 'passion'. Its been worrying her, distracting her, causing many unwanted sighs and keeping her from sleeping soundly. Seriously, do you recall ever giving that much thought to such things when you were nine? Not me. At nine, my main stress revolved around whether the ice cream truck was going to pass by our street over the weekend or if I was going to be allowed to watch 'Countdown' on Sunday. Anyway, hallelujah, she thinks that perhaps she's found it. She really wanted to write about it (I figured that she's so often the unknowing subject of my various parenting gripes and triumphs I owed it to her!) so may I present to you, the newly passionate and freshly focused, Miss O.

IMAGE : THE MOTHER LOAD | Finding Your Passion