Before you read this, I want to say something gently.
This is not a light piece. It touches something tender in many of us - identity, belonging, history, pride, and grief. For some, it may feel uncomfortable. For others, it may feel relieving. For some, it may stir anger or sadness. That’s okay.
What I am offering here is not a position to defend, but a conversation to step into.
In my work as a yoga and meditation teacher and counsellor, I have learned something very simple and very true: what we cannot hold with awareness and compassion ends up holding us. What we cannot integrate divides us.
This reflection comes from the same place as my teachings on Being, Becoming, and Belonging. As long as we cannot hold the full story of this country and its people - both its beauty and its wounds, its strengths and its struggles — we cannot truly feel at home in it together. We cannot experience a genuine sense of belonging.
So I invite you to read this slowly, with curiosity rather than certainty. You don’t have to agree with everything. But I do hope you will let it open something. Because this conversation matters -not just for us, but for the generations who are already living beyond our old divisions, and for those yet to come.
“Avidyā - misperception of reality, is the root of suffering.”
(Yoga Sūtra 2.5, adapted)
Right now, we are caught in something like a national limbo - unable to fully celebrate, and unwilling to fully reckon. And that in-between state is not neutral. It quietly keeps us divided, reactive, and unresolved and quite possible causing harm to this nation.
We don’t suffer because the truth is complex.
We suffer because we refuse to face it.
This country did not give me my birth - but it has given me my life.
I came to Australia more than thirty-five years ago.
It is where I have worked, loved, struggled, and built a home and a family. It is where I married a sixth-generation Irish-English Australian man who carries a deep, quiet love for this land. It is where our children were born- children who carry both Sri Lankan and Australian blood, both ancient culture and modern possibility.
So when I speak about Australia Day, I am not speaking as an outsider looking in.
I am speaking from inside this story.
And from that place, I believe what we are really being asked to do now is not to erase our past, nor to remain trapped inside it - but to mature as a nation. To grow up. To find a way to honour, remember, and celebrate in a way that allows all of us to belong.
The conflict around Australia Day is often framed as a debate about history, politics, or dates on a calendar. But beneath the noise, it is something much more human and much more tender. It is a struggle about identity, belonging, and grief.
At its heart, Australia Day asks a nation to hold two truths at once.
The first truth is that modern Australia has brought extraordinary gifts: stability, safety, opportunity, education, health care, and a democratic society that has welcomed people from every corner of the world. Millions of Australians- including migrants, refugees, and working-class families - have built meaningful lives here. Their pride in this country is not misplaced. It is rooted in real effort, sacrifice, and love.
The second truth is that this modern nation was founded through invasion, dispossession, and immense suffering for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. Land was taken. Languages were suppressed. Families were broken. Cultures that had thrived for tens of thousands of years were violently disrupted. This history is not a footnote - it is foundational.
The tension around January 26 exists because it marks the beginning of a system that produced both of these realities. It is therefore not simply a celebration date, but a symbolic wound. For many Indigenous Australians, it represents loss and erasure. For many others, including migrants like me, it represents belonging and achievement. Asking one group to ignore their pain or the other to relinquish their pride creates an impossible emotional bind.
What we are witnessing in the Australia Day debate is not just disagreement. It is unprocessed grief colliding across generations and cultures.
For many non-Indigenous Australians, particularly migrants and their children, Australia Day has become a symbol of earned belonging - the story of arriving, working hard, and creating a life. When the date is challenged, what is often felt is not just political disagreement, but a deeper fear: “Are you saying I don’t belong here?” That fear activates defensiveness and resistance -not because people are cruel, but because shame threatens the core of identity.
For many Indigenous Australians, January 26 carries the weight of historical and ongoing trauma. It is not distant history, but a living inheritance that continues to shape health, opportunity, and cultural survival. When celebration is insisted upon without acknowledgement, it can feel like their pain is being dismissed. That too evokes grief and anger.
In this way, both sides are protecting something sacred: one side, the right to belong without shame; the other, the right to have suffering recognised and honoured. These are not opposing moral claims — they are parallel human needs.
Nations, like people, do not heal through denial or blame. They heal through truth, witnessing, and integration. We see this in countries that have faced painful histories honestly. They did not become weaker through truth-telling - they became more stable, more trustworthy, and more united.
By contrast, nations that deny or sanitise their past remain haunted by unresolved conflict, defensiveness, and fear. Unacknowledged trauma does not disappear. It returns in distorted and destructive ways - just as it does in individuals who never receive the chance to heal.
Australia now stands at this same crossroads.
The choice is not between pride and truth. The choice is between fragile identity built on denial, and mature identity built on honesty.
A psychologically healthy Australia Day would not force one group to swallow pain or the other to abandon belonging. It would separate remembrance from celebration. January 26 could become a national day of truth, reflection, and acknowledgement of First Nations history and resilience. A different date could become a day of shared celebration - of citizenship, diversity, creativity, and the evolving story of modern Australia. In this way, grief would be honoured, and pride would be freed from cruelty.
This is not rewriting history.
It is telling the whole story.
A grown-up nation, like a healed person, does not need to pretend it was innocent in order to be worthy. It can say, “We know what happened. We honour those who suffered. And we choose, together, to walk forward.”
The deepest question beneath the Australia Day debate is not “What date should we celebrate?”
It is: Can we belong together without erasing each other?
The answer, if we are brave enough to live it, is yes.
Because in the end, we all yearn to belong.