“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Nelson Mandela
Monday, March 21, 2011
Gratitude - 22 Things I am Grateful For - February 13 2011
Gratitude is important for me. So - I'm sharing "what I'm grateful for" out of some of my journalling tonight.
These are far from profound, but, it is a nice reminder to stop, get present and acknowledge what is great in life.
When we're grateful - magic appears!
What I'm Grateful For:
1. My mum - she is incredible! I give gratitude to you for being who you are. For being generous, nurturing, patient and strong. You are beyond inspiring! You truly are extraordinary.
2. My dad - I honour you for your generosity, your warm heart and your wicked and warped sense of humour.
3. Chrissy - I honour and acknowledge you for who you are, and just how important you are to me. You truly are the most incredible 25 year old I know.
4. LW - I am grateful for who you are and truly honour your 'extraordinariness'.
5. Rach - I am grateful for who you are and love that you are like a patch of mould that is impossible to get rid of!
6. My constant flow of abundance.
7. My newest pile of reading material I'll be paying excess baggage on!
8. Life
9. Laughs
10. My cat Cosmo
11. Me! I am grateful for who I am and who I am becoming
12. Being looked after and nurtured
13. My retreat
14. The ocean and how this has been a catalyst for clearing to take place
15. Time to journal and draw
16. Fabulous coffee - this I will miss!
17. My green amethyst piece - my god I'm in love with it!
18. My donga in Uluru. I so acknowledge this space I have there and I acknowledge that I live in the best part of Australia!
19. My family away from home - all of my nanas who I cannot wait to reconnect with! Lots of hugs! Have missed hearing "Bic-toria"!
20. Mandy - she is just a treasure and a very generous soul.
21. My capacity to adjust - even when I don't like it!
22. My grandmother for her generosity and who she is for me.
23. My angels, guides and the higher source I am connected to
What are you grateful for?
These are far from profound, but, it is a nice reminder to stop, get present and acknowledge what is great in life.
When we're grateful - magic appears!
What I'm Grateful For:
1. My mum - she is incredible! I give gratitude to you for being who you are. For being generous, nurturing, patient and strong. You are beyond inspiring! You truly are extraordinary.
2. My dad - I honour you for your generosity, your warm heart and your wicked and warped sense of humour.
3. Chrissy - I honour and acknowledge you for who you are, and just how important you are to me. You truly are the most incredible 25 year old I know.
4. LW - I am grateful for who you are and truly honour your 'extraordinariness'.
5. Rach - I am grateful for who you are and love that you are like a patch of mould that is impossible to get rid of!
6. My constant flow of abundance.
7. My newest pile of reading material I'll be paying excess baggage on!
8. Life
9. Laughs
10. My cat Cosmo
11. Me! I am grateful for who I am and who I am becoming
12. Being looked after and nurtured
13. My retreat
14. The ocean and how this has been a catalyst for clearing to take place
15. Time to journal and draw
16. Fabulous coffee - this I will miss!
17. My green amethyst piece - my god I'm in love with it!
18. My donga in Uluru. I so acknowledge this space I have there and I acknowledge that I live in the best part of Australia!
19. My family away from home - all of my nanas who I cannot wait to reconnect with! Lots of hugs! Have missed hearing "Bic-toria"!
20. Mandy - she is just a treasure and a very generous soul.
21. My capacity to adjust - even when I don't like it!
22. My grandmother for her generosity and who she is for me.
23. My angels, guides and the higher source I am connected to
What are you grateful for?
Bogged - February 11 2011
I received a call tonight from Ben. He had just hit the bitumen near Kata-Tjuta after having been out at Pipylatjara from 2pm. He received a call from Pete on the sattelite phone. Pete had gone out on his second bush buying trip and found himself bogged and unable to get out.
Ben began to describe the past 9 hours he had just experienced. I couldn't help but burst out into a belly laugh. He told me how he helped Pete jack the ute up so they could start digging out the tyres. The entire vehicle (with it's full load on the back) was bogged up to the chassis rail! These fellas were knee deep in mud!
This side track out of Pip is notorious after big rain and incredibly soft and unpredictable. So, you can imagine the work involved in jacking the ute up, without the jack being driven further down into the ground (I know all too well what this is like!)
They dug out their tyres, and filled the holes with bits of wood, sticks and grass. As Ben tells this story, I am taken back to a time 2 years ago.. My first bog... And it was dry!
I was travelling with 2 nanas. We hadn't gone out far. We went to where the tjala (honey ants) were. We went for hunting, and dancing. The nanas were carrying a cro-bar, and a bent hub cap - digging tools!! Those tjala are deep in the ground - yummy little buggers!
Anyway, we'd been digging and dancing all day and the sun had begun to set. Time to go! Until... the sand got soft, and down we sunk. I remember saying "Oh f***k" quite loudly and the nanas laughed. Out we got to have a look. I'd not been bogged before and I had no idea what I was meant to do. Nor did I have any mobile reception, so I couldn't phone anyone. Naturally, another "Oh f***k" floated through my mind.
While I stood there trying to work out how I was going to get myself and these two old ladies out of this dilemma, I saw that they were already onto it and had begun digging out sand from the tyres with their hands and their bent hub caps. One of them looked up at me and winked. (This is one of those profound moments for me that I will never, ever forget. This was like my training and initiation. I'd visited the desert many times before, but now I was living and working in it. I was in a sense, on my own. But clearly, I wasn't on my own either. Nor will I ever be while I am out there.)
"Hey kami (grandaughter), come 'ere. Look. Thum whitefellas been send you out soon. Nyuntu kutju. (Them whitefellas are going to send you out soon - on your own). Alatji. Do like me. Here." And she handed me her hub cap.
This is actually harder than it looks! We finally dug out the tyres and before I could turn my head, the nanas were gathering dead spinifex, leaves, twigs, wood and filling the holes and jamming them up against the tyres. I had no idea what was happening. The other nana called out to me "get in that mutaka and start 'im up. Do what I tell you". Ok, now I was scared!! I wasn't sure what was going on at this point. Our fate lay in the hands of a couple of old (but very wise) basket weaving old ladies with tobacco hanging out of their mouths. I wondered whether we'd be starting to walk home at any moment!!
"Go forward little bit, reverse little bit (stall). Start 'im up! Go forward (stall). Hey! You right? Wachu doin'? Start 'im up, foot on clutch!" These women were clear and on a mission. I kept 'stalling'. A nana came up to the window and said " 'ey, it gettin' dark. You wanna go 'ome? We wanna go 'ome. We 'ungry. You gotta think straight. Start 'im up!" I strongly recall this particular moment of alignment. I got present and I got intentional. I aligned myself with this women and did as they said.
"Go forward little, come back little bit. Come back more, flat out!!! Alatji! Turn 'im round, drive to that 'ard ground! Ooh-woh!" We'd gotten un-bogged, and were on our way!
Ben continues to tell me his story. After several attempts of jacking up the ute, and shovelling out mud, Ben made an attempt to snatch strap the bogged ute out, which, got him bogged as deep as Pete! After several hours, they recovered both vehicles, until further on down the track Pete got himself bogged again!
Both of these fellas are great drivers, Ben especially on these outback roads. This could have happened to anyone with the state these roads are in at the moment.
When I got off the phone with Ben, I was then reminded of some people I had seen at the beach. I've been swimming at the local beach lately. I started learning how to swim before I could walk and it's always been something I've been strong in. As I'm gliding through the water, I notice people who are very clearly unable to swim, yet venture out deeper and deeper, watching the shore. I hear a little voice in my head "never turn your back on the ocean". My father instilled this in me from a young child. "That ocean is unpredictable. Trust it, but never turn your back on it". This beach is generally quite flat and calm, but on this day, there was high wind and the surf was choppy. I could see this guy was struggling. He had a choice, he could sink or he could swim. He got himself closer to shore, and this is where he stayed for the time he was there!
How many of us, regardless of how 'skilled' we are, unconsciously get ourselves bogged in 'shit'? How often do we find ourselves drowning without even knowing it?
I have a very strong sense that 2011 is about bringing a serious level of consciousness into humanity. We're all starting to wake up. We are preparing for our journeys and we are going to be travelling lightly.
Again, this mob have re-ignited my inspiration. It is inspiring and admiring to see how easily and effortlessly they are able to get out of a rut. They just get on with it and do what is required to keep them moving. I love this.
It is a nice reminder, the next time any of us get bogged, or stuck - how can we look at our situation objectively, and what can we do to get ourselves moving forward again?
Ben began to describe the past 9 hours he had just experienced. I couldn't help but burst out into a belly laugh. He told me how he helped Pete jack the ute up so they could start digging out the tyres. The entire vehicle (with it's full load on the back) was bogged up to the chassis rail! These fellas were knee deep in mud!
This side track out of Pip is notorious after big rain and incredibly soft and unpredictable. So, you can imagine the work involved in jacking the ute up, without the jack being driven further down into the ground (I know all too well what this is like!)
They dug out their tyres, and filled the holes with bits of wood, sticks and grass. As Ben tells this story, I am taken back to a time 2 years ago.. My first bog... And it was dry!
I was travelling with 2 nanas. We hadn't gone out far. We went to where the tjala (honey ants) were. We went for hunting, and dancing. The nanas were carrying a cro-bar, and a bent hub cap - digging tools!! Those tjala are deep in the ground - yummy little buggers!
Anyway, we'd been digging and dancing all day and the sun had begun to set. Time to go! Until... the sand got soft, and down we sunk. I remember saying "Oh f***k" quite loudly and the nanas laughed. Out we got to have a look. I'd not been bogged before and I had no idea what I was meant to do. Nor did I have any mobile reception, so I couldn't phone anyone. Naturally, another "Oh f***k" floated through my mind.
While I stood there trying to work out how I was going to get myself and these two old ladies out of this dilemma, I saw that they were already onto it and had begun digging out sand from the tyres with their hands and their bent hub caps. One of them looked up at me and winked. (This is one of those profound moments for me that I will never, ever forget. This was like my training and initiation. I'd visited the desert many times before, but now I was living and working in it. I was in a sense, on my own. But clearly, I wasn't on my own either. Nor will I ever be while I am out there.)
"Hey kami (grandaughter), come 'ere. Look. Thum whitefellas been send you out soon. Nyuntu kutju. (Them whitefellas are going to send you out soon - on your own). Alatji. Do like me. Here." And she handed me her hub cap.
This is actually harder than it looks! We finally dug out the tyres and before I could turn my head, the nanas were gathering dead spinifex, leaves, twigs, wood and filling the holes and jamming them up against the tyres. I had no idea what was happening. The other nana called out to me "get in that mutaka and start 'im up. Do what I tell you". Ok, now I was scared!! I wasn't sure what was going on at this point. Our fate lay in the hands of a couple of old (but very wise) basket weaving old ladies with tobacco hanging out of their mouths. I wondered whether we'd be starting to walk home at any moment!!
"Go forward little bit, reverse little bit (stall). Start 'im up! Go forward (stall). Hey! You right? Wachu doin'? Start 'im up, foot on clutch!" These women were clear and on a mission. I kept 'stalling'. A nana came up to the window and said " 'ey, it gettin' dark. You wanna go 'ome? We wanna go 'ome. We 'ungry. You gotta think straight. Start 'im up!" I strongly recall this particular moment of alignment. I got present and I got intentional. I aligned myself with this women and did as they said.
"Go forward little, come back little bit. Come back more, flat out!!! Alatji! Turn 'im round, drive to that 'ard ground! Ooh-woh!" We'd gotten un-bogged, and were on our way!
Ben continues to tell me his story. After several attempts of jacking up the ute, and shovelling out mud, Ben made an attempt to snatch strap the bogged ute out, which, got him bogged as deep as Pete! After several hours, they recovered both vehicles, until further on down the track Pete got himself bogged again!
Both of these fellas are great drivers, Ben especially on these outback roads. This could have happened to anyone with the state these roads are in at the moment.
When I got off the phone with Ben, I was then reminded of some people I had seen at the beach. I've been swimming at the local beach lately. I started learning how to swim before I could walk and it's always been something I've been strong in. As I'm gliding through the water, I notice people who are very clearly unable to swim, yet venture out deeper and deeper, watching the shore. I hear a little voice in my head "never turn your back on the ocean". My father instilled this in me from a young child. "That ocean is unpredictable. Trust it, but never turn your back on it". This beach is generally quite flat and calm, but on this day, there was high wind and the surf was choppy. I could see this guy was struggling. He had a choice, he could sink or he could swim. He got himself closer to shore, and this is where he stayed for the time he was there!
How many of us, regardless of how 'skilled' we are, unconsciously get ourselves bogged in 'shit'? How often do we find ourselves drowning without even knowing it?
I have a very strong sense that 2011 is about bringing a serious level of consciousness into humanity. We're all starting to wake up. We are preparing for our journeys and we are going to be travelling lightly.
Again, this mob have re-ignited my inspiration. It is inspiring and admiring to see how easily and effortlessly they are able to get out of a rut. They just get on with it and do what is required to keep them moving. I love this.
It is a nice reminder, the next time any of us get bogged, or stuck - how can we look at our situation objectively, and what can we do to get ourselves moving forward again?
A Family Christmas December 16 2010
My day today has been extraordinary. The day before my 28th birthday. The day before I fly home to be with family for Christmas. I’ve seen blackfulla santa’s landing’ on the red dirt in helicopters, blown dogs heads off, and got pulled over for RBT by a copper who referred to me as ‘gorgeous’ (I know her of course!)
Earlier this afternoon, I was wheeling my suitcase over to the art centre to weigh it and I passed the spot where the dog went down. Red blood had stained the red sand, and the crows hovered. I stopped. Looked at where I was and what I was doing and I chuckled to myself. Where else could you wheel a suit case through the sand and see what I saw? I swear, sometimes I feel like I am living in some parallel universe.
Today, the community had it’s Christmas party. Old Reggie looked spectacular in his velvet red suit and thought he was way too deadly as he landed in that chopper.
So I write, from my humble little donga with it’s oversized bathroom - my own little universe and I daydream into tomorrow……
It was interesting today at this Christmas gathering. Gifts were handed out, rangers cooked a barbie. Angangu tjuta tjungu, mulapa - all the mob were together. Family, friends. The old pastor though, asked us to stop for a moment. He reminded us that all over the world, people celebrate Christmas by exchanging gifts and joining together for a feast. He reminded us further, that Christmas is more than that. It is the celebration of Jesus Christ. Now, for those of you who know me well, you will know that I am one of the least religious people you will come across. But in this moment, this man touched my heart. Not because I resonated with the birth of Jesus Christ. But because I resonated with stopping and getting present to family. The mob then joined in chorus, as they sang sweetly, in Pitjantjatjara, ‘O come all ye faithful’. I cried.
Family is a dynamic of it’s own and it means something very different for so many of us. For most of the year, certain members of my family don’t see or speak to one another. But at Christmas, we all come together. Family has always been important to me, but I’ve neglected to let them know this. Now, I know, tomorrow, when my cab pulls up to folks joint, my mother will be standing in the driveway, anxiously awaiting the arrival of her first born, who, as embarrassed as I am to admit, still calls ‘Beb’! What I also know, is that I will be instantly smothered with hugs, kisses, pinching of my cheeks, and her touching me to make sure I am real and there! All the things that drive me insane but I will let slip, because of course, she is my mother and I adore her. My father will ask how his little bush chick is and whether I’ve hunted recently and caught an emu!
See, my family have moulded who I am. They’ve provided me with strength, taught me generosity, instilled great values, and gave me independence. Who I am, is because of who they have been for me.
I’m coming home. And, I’m coming home to myself.
In turning 28, I’m undergoing my first Saturn return. A time of consolidation, gaining clarity, endings, beginnings - and - I’m excited to see what this next phase of my life holds for me! What I know, is that this summer, will be like none other I’ve known, and I can’t wait! I am excited by what is possible for me in 2011. And I know, that over this summer period, I will gain a new level of transformation and return to the dusty desert stronger, and in a new frame of mind to be ready for whatever is thrown at me.
In coming home, to family and to myself, I have already gained a sense of new found clarity and this inspires me.
So, wherever you are, and whoever you are sharing Christmas with, acknowledge who they are for you and the difference they have made to your life.
Earlier this afternoon, I was wheeling my suitcase over to the art centre to weigh it and I passed the spot where the dog went down. Red blood had stained the red sand, and the crows hovered. I stopped. Looked at where I was and what I was doing and I chuckled to myself. Where else could you wheel a suit case through the sand and see what I saw? I swear, sometimes I feel like I am living in some parallel universe.
Today, the community had it’s Christmas party. Old Reggie looked spectacular in his velvet red suit and thought he was way too deadly as he landed in that chopper.
So I write, from my humble little donga with it’s oversized bathroom - my own little universe and I daydream into tomorrow……
It was interesting today at this Christmas gathering. Gifts were handed out, rangers cooked a barbie. Angangu tjuta tjungu, mulapa - all the mob were together. Family, friends. The old pastor though, asked us to stop for a moment. He reminded us that all over the world, people celebrate Christmas by exchanging gifts and joining together for a feast. He reminded us further, that Christmas is more than that. It is the celebration of Jesus Christ. Now, for those of you who know me well, you will know that I am one of the least religious people you will come across. But in this moment, this man touched my heart. Not because I resonated with the birth of Jesus Christ. But because I resonated with stopping and getting present to family. The mob then joined in chorus, as they sang sweetly, in Pitjantjatjara, ‘O come all ye faithful’. I cried.
Family is a dynamic of it’s own and it means something very different for so many of us. For most of the year, certain members of my family don’t see or speak to one another. But at Christmas, we all come together. Family has always been important to me, but I’ve neglected to let them know this. Now, I know, tomorrow, when my cab pulls up to folks joint, my mother will be standing in the driveway, anxiously awaiting the arrival of her first born, who, as embarrassed as I am to admit, still calls ‘Beb’! What I also know, is that I will be instantly smothered with hugs, kisses, pinching of my cheeks, and her touching me to make sure I am real and there! All the things that drive me insane but I will let slip, because of course, she is my mother and I adore her. My father will ask how his little bush chick is and whether I’ve hunted recently and caught an emu!
See, my family have moulded who I am. They’ve provided me with strength, taught me generosity, instilled great values, and gave me independence. Who I am, is because of who they have been for me.
I’m coming home. And, I’m coming home to myself.
In turning 28, I’m undergoing my first Saturn return. A time of consolidation, gaining clarity, endings, beginnings - and - I’m excited to see what this next phase of my life holds for me! What I know, is that this summer, will be like none other I’ve known, and I can’t wait! I am excited by what is possible for me in 2011. And I know, that over this summer period, I will gain a new level of transformation and return to the dusty desert stronger, and in a new frame of mind to be ready for whatever is thrown at me.
In coming home, to family and to myself, I have already gained a sense of new found clarity and this inspires me.
So, wherever you are, and whoever you are sharing Christmas with, acknowledge who they are for you and the difference they have made to your life.
My thoughts - unedited 10th December 2010
This is a journal entry I decided to share as part of my blog
**~~~~~~~*~~~******~~~~~~~***~~~~*~~~~
Today, I've experienced overwhelm in a way I haven't for quite some time. So much so, I broke down in tears at work.
I am not normally one to cry in front of others, unless I've been touched or moved by someone or something. And even then I hold back. Why do I view my capacity to show emotion in front of others as a sign of weakness? I wish I could be strong all the time.
Seeing Oprah yesterday made me cry. Seeing Oprah with nanna Judy made me bawl. In that moment, two incredibly extraordinary women made a connection. A connection I'm sure, neither will forget. Their meeting one another was soul deep and heart felt. What I loved about Oprah was observing someone of her calibre with this mob here, and, how she related to them. It wasn't the 'visiting the aboriginal people of Uluru' visit out of tokenism. It was genuine. My sense was, that she was genuinely moved this mob. Her energy is quite large, but not expansive. It is warm and grounded.
I hadn't really cared for Oprah all that much. Sure, I'd occasionally watch her on TV, and, I had admiration for her, but I wouldn't call myself a groupie or a raging fan, or anything of the like.
Truth be told, I wasn't actually going to bother going to see her. But, after a conversation with a friend and my sister, I realised it was an opportunity I'd be mad to miss. I hadn't actually stopped to get present to who Oprah actually was. And, what I got was, that she was far more than that 'woman I had watched on the tele'.
So, a day later on very little sleep, and a sister who was so wired and hadn't slept in more than 24 hours, I hit a brick wall. My next insight, I don't stop to make enough time for me. This is when the internal dialogue kicks in. 'What do you mean you don't make time for you? Didn't you have a weekend in Alice?" I mean really, Alice isn't the ideal 'get-away' destination. "Haven't you booked yourself into a retreat?" Yes, I have - and I can't wait! And, I can't help feeling guilty.
But, what I know is, I absolutely, wholly and completely deserve these treats. And, I deserve a break.
So, when I had my little cry, it was in front of 3 men. And, no one ran! They didn't know where to look, but they didn't run either! Today was a long day. Until the afternoon. Ben has this amazing way of just showing up with the goods at the perfect moment. He thought it would be good to take me for a drive out bush. We took a track which runs off Docker Rd. The rangers had blocked the track off with big sticks and branches, which we avoided and drove straight over! The track was very narrow which meant we were driving very close to, and through, trees! We used the chainsaw to cut some logs for the old tjilpis (senior men) so they could carve punu (wooden artefacts) from them. A woman with a chainsaw - look out!
After that, we collected some fire wood for the old people and blasted a few bunnies. A woman with a rifle - now that's asking for trouble! On the way home, Ben stopped so we could watch a Kata Tjuta sunset. What was special about that moment was that we both realised we couldn't remember the last time we'd stopped and actually enjoyed a sunset. Here, I made a conscious decision to leave whatever got to me today right there and as I sat on the ground, I requested the red soil beneath me took what no longer served me. I then made the committment to myself that I would actually stop and listen to what my soul and what my body needs, rather than avoiding it and not being present to where I am at.
Today I give thanks for:
My journal
Oprah
Nana Judy
Ben
Chrissy
Louise
My bed
Mother Earth
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So - who moves, touches, and inspires you? And, do you stop and make time for nurturing yourself often enough?
**~~~~~~~*~~~******~~~~~~~***~~~~*~~~~
Today, I've experienced overwhelm in a way I haven't for quite some time. So much so, I broke down in tears at work.
I am not normally one to cry in front of others, unless I've been touched or moved by someone or something. And even then I hold back. Why do I view my capacity to show emotion in front of others as a sign of weakness? I wish I could be strong all the time.
Seeing Oprah yesterday made me cry. Seeing Oprah with nanna Judy made me bawl. In that moment, two incredibly extraordinary women made a connection. A connection I'm sure, neither will forget. Their meeting one another was soul deep and heart felt. What I loved about Oprah was observing someone of her calibre with this mob here, and, how she related to them. It wasn't the 'visiting the aboriginal people of Uluru' visit out of tokenism. It was genuine. My sense was, that she was genuinely moved this mob. Her energy is quite large, but not expansive. It is warm and grounded.
I hadn't really cared for Oprah all that much. Sure, I'd occasionally watch her on TV, and, I had admiration for her, but I wouldn't call myself a groupie or a raging fan, or anything of the like.
Truth be told, I wasn't actually going to bother going to see her. But, after a conversation with a friend and my sister, I realised it was an opportunity I'd be mad to miss. I hadn't actually stopped to get present to who Oprah actually was. And, what I got was, that she was far more than that 'woman I had watched on the tele'.
So, a day later on very little sleep, and a sister who was so wired and hadn't slept in more than 24 hours, I hit a brick wall. My next insight, I don't stop to make enough time for me. This is when the internal dialogue kicks in. 'What do you mean you don't make time for you? Didn't you have a weekend in Alice?" I mean really, Alice isn't the ideal 'get-away' destination. "Haven't you booked yourself into a retreat?" Yes, I have - and I can't wait! And, I can't help feeling guilty.
But, what I know is, I absolutely, wholly and completely deserve these treats. And, I deserve a break.
So, when I had my little cry, it was in front of 3 men. And, no one ran! They didn't know where to look, but they didn't run either! Today was a long day. Until the afternoon. Ben has this amazing way of just showing up with the goods at the perfect moment. He thought it would be good to take me for a drive out bush. We took a track which runs off Docker Rd. The rangers had blocked the track off with big sticks and branches, which we avoided and drove straight over! The track was very narrow which meant we were driving very close to, and through, trees! We used the chainsaw to cut some logs for the old tjilpis (senior men) so they could carve punu (wooden artefacts) from them. A woman with a chainsaw - look out!
After that, we collected some fire wood for the old people and blasted a few bunnies. A woman with a rifle - now that's asking for trouble! On the way home, Ben stopped so we could watch a Kata Tjuta sunset. What was special about that moment was that we both realised we couldn't remember the last time we'd stopped and actually enjoyed a sunset. Here, I made a conscious decision to leave whatever got to me today right there and as I sat on the ground, I requested the red soil beneath me took what no longer served me. I then made the committment to myself that I would actually stop and listen to what my soul and what my body needs, rather than avoiding it and not being present to where I am at.
Today I give thanks for:
My journal
Oprah
Nana Judy
Ben
Chrissy
Louise
My bed
Mother Earth
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So - who moves, touches, and inspires you? And, do you stop and make time for nurturing yourself often enough?
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Giving Back
It's Sunday afternoon and rain drops are falling like pellets on my corrugated iron roof. I head outside to make sure the car windows are up.
Traditional owners have travelled from across the lands for "Rent and Gate Money Story". This is where a percentage of park entry fees etc are divided and shared among TO's. It happens every year in November. And, every white fella within yards of the joint knows this and gets ready. They're like cats, preying on a small bird, waiting to pounce! And then, thump! That little bird is screwed! See, when this mob receives their money, they all head out to buy new cars. Used cars. From them white fullas. Rubbish cars. For exorbitant prices. Thousands of dollars are spent on 20 year old Commodores, that aren't worth more than $1000.00. Our mob is ripped off to buggery and the entire process is totally unjust.
Cars are then driven to their destinations, to the point that they are beyond bush mechanic rectification. Had the vehicle been more reliable, they would have had a chance.
Uluru attracts all sorts of folk, many in search of something that is missing from their lives. If only they knew, that if they looked within themselves they might just find it.
Narcissistic so called hippies and flower people, light as feathers and totally unconsious, in search of learning traditional ways, of becoming 'healers'. In search of filling a void they couldn't find in Byron Bay or Nimbin. Yes, I'm a cynic! But a well rounded one!
Of course, there are some extraordinary indigenous and non-indigenous folk who come out with heart felt intentions. With the committment to make a difference and bridge the gap. Absolutely. And, these people should be acknowledged.
Do gooders, spiritualists, hippies, healers; they think this land is the Holy Grail. You need not me, nor anyone else to explain the significance or sacredness of this place. Of any place. All of Mother Earth is sacred. However, here, in the 'spiritual heart of Australia",exists a certain dysfuntion. And, I see it too often. I watch as they swarm to my grandmothers, like bees to honey. Blow ins. They're here for a short time to hunt and gather knowledge, and they then flee, many of them then considering themselves to be gurus and messengers - bearers of indigenous culture that doesn't belong to them.
So, how do we eradicate this exploitation of our ancestors? Of the custodians of this land? In this so called "Lucky Country"?
There's a term we use out here. Frequently. "Ngapartji ngapartji". Meaning, I give you something, you give me something. It's about exchange. It's about generosity and acknowledgment.
What can we all give back to this mob who have such profound generosity and share such a depth of wisdom.
And, more importantly, what can we learn?
Traditional owners have travelled from across the lands for "Rent and Gate Money Story". This is where a percentage of park entry fees etc are divided and shared among TO's. It happens every year in November. And, every white fella within yards of the joint knows this and gets ready. They're like cats, preying on a small bird, waiting to pounce! And then, thump! That little bird is screwed! See, when this mob receives their money, they all head out to buy new cars. Used cars. From them white fullas. Rubbish cars. For exorbitant prices. Thousands of dollars are spent on 20 year old Commodores, that aren't worth more than $1000.00. Our mob is ripped off to buggery and the entire process is totally unjust.
Cars are then driven to their destinations, to the point that they are beyond bush mechanic rectification. Had the vehicle been more reliable, they would have had a chance.
Uluru attracts all sorts of folk, many in search of something that is missing from their lives. If only they knew, that if they looked within themselves they might just find it.
Narcissistic so called hippies and flower people, light as feathers and totally unconsious, in search of learning traditional ways, of becoming 'healers'. In search of filling a void they couldn't find in Byron Bay or Nimbin. Yes, I'm a cynic! But a well rounded one!
Of course, there are some extraordinary indigenous and non-indigenous folk who come out with heart felt intentions. With the committment to make a difference and bridge the gap. Absolutely. And, these people should be acknowledged.
Do gooders, spiritualists, hippies, healers; they think this land is the Holy Grail. You need not me, nor anyone else to explain the significance or sacredness of this place. Of any place. All of Mother Earth is sacred. However, here, in the 'spiritual heart of Australia",exists a certain dysfuntion. And, I see it too often. I watch as they swarm to my grandmothers, like bees to honey. Blow ins. They're here for a short time to hunt and gather knowledge, and they then flee, many of them then considering themselves to be gurus and messengers - bearers of indigenous culture that doesn't belong to them.
So, how do we eradicate this exploitation of our ancestors? Of the custodians of this land? In this so called "Lucky Country"?
There's a term we use out here. Frequently. "Ngapartji ngapartji". Meaning, I give you something, you give me something. It's about exchange. It's about generosity and acknowledgment.
What can we all give back to this mob who have such profound generosity and share such a depth of wisdom.
And, more importantly, what can we learn?
Friday, November 5, 2010
Black Fulla's - The Inferior Race?!?!
The temperature in Central Australia has risen. Quite quickly. Flies are swarming, camp dogs are gestating left, right and centre. Crows are in full force as new hatchlings flee their nest for their first flight. The motifs of snake and goanna tracks cover the sandy desert floor and children, in a community with no swimming pool, find other ways of cooling down. Some, in garbage bins filled with water, others, with inflatible swimming pools.
Recently, my attention has been drawn to generosity. Generosity - the black fulla way.
A few weeks ago a number of us were out at Lake Amadeus with Traditional Owners on a fauna survey; scientists, rangers, wildlife experts and a mob of old people. It was interesting watching this dynamic. Intersting because, I got to observe peoples different levels of sharing and generosity. Black fullas, white fullas. Sharing, in the context of food, water, knowledge, and, as individuals.
Barbara, a TO, humbled me with her generosity. She shared, without condition, traditional stories of that land, where water could be found, where sources of food could be located, where certain species of animals could be found. The knowledge and insight of this old woman was extraordinary. She hadn't been out to Lake Amadeus for over 30 years!
Scientists, with the knowledge Barbara had shared, went off quietly, unaccompanied, to 'check it out'. When they returned with their findings, they shared. Their sharing however, lacked generosity. It was in gobbledegook scientifc language and latin terminology. The average white fulla doesn't know what a carpius andronis is, let alone a mob of black fullas! They were stingy with their knowledge and what they had found and it irritated me!
Later that afternoon, Barbara caught a tinka. A small sand goanna. At night, we threw it into the hot coals and smoked it. Tinka is a white meat. Soft, a little greasy and is very sweet. And, delicious. When it was cooked, Barbara shared it with all of those white fulla scientists. She talked about where to find tinka, how to track it to it's burrow, how it is caught and killed. She explained this in plain english so that they could all understand. She withheld nothing. Barbara, like most Anangu (indigenous people from APY Lands) loves tinka. But she was happy to share it, without keeping any for herself or her family. She was generous. Unconditionally.
Only yesterday, I was at loggerheads with a colleague. An artist had called in to drop off some paintings. A senior woman. While she was waiting, she asked my colleague if she could have a glass of cold water. "There's the tap" he told her. "Wiya" she said. "Kapi kura" (No, that water is bad)
And, the water out of this particular tap is bad. It is only used for washing up. This tap is connected to a tank at the back of the art centre. The water runs through filthy gutters, and sits under a pepper tree. These berries fall into the tank and are poisonous. And recently, the tank was filled with the fire hose. Bottom line, water in this tank is not fit for human consumption!
"We haven't got any other water" my colleague told the old woman.
I was sitting in my office listening to this conversation, my blood pressure was rising.
Behind me, is a water cooler, containing cold, spring water.
"There's water in here" I yelled out.
"That's for us" my colleague said. I proceeded to fill a glass and handed it to my elder.
"You can't waste that water. They can drink the tap water. That water is for staff. What happens if we run out?" He continued
"Then we go to the store and buy some more. It's one glass." I told him.
"It doesn't matter" he said, "that water is for us only"
We argued for close to 15 minutes.
I then confronted him with this question: "If a white fulla had come through and requested a glass of water, would you give them water from the tap?"
To which he replied: "It's not the same. They're (black fullas) used to drinking that water".
By this stage, I could have clobbered him. But I didn't. I was gobsmacked. I could not believe, that on a hot day like yesterday, he was absolutely unwilling to share ONE glass of water with an old lady because she was black! This was the underlying issue. He could not spare one glass of water out of fear he may run out, and, because this woman was, heaven forbid, "an abo".
What this man is totally unaware of, is that, he thinks, this mob is inferior to him. That, these black fullas aren't deserving of a cold glass of water, water that he has this idea of being 'custodian' of in the office. It is behviour like this mans, that makes him inferior. There is nothing powerful or empowering about greed or racism. There is nothing empowering about not having the ability to share. There is nothing empowering about not giving a shit about a fellow human being, regardless of colour, on a hot day.
This mob embrace sharing and generosity. They embrace it among families, friends, and, strangers. They do it better than anyone I've known. So what is it about a handful of white fullas who do not have the capacity to share?
Why do white fullas think black fullas are less than, inferior and not good enough?
And, what if, black fullas and white fullas, could co-exist with an exchange of knowledge, sharing and generosity. Would that not be empowering?
Recently, my attention has been drawn to generosity. Generosity - the black fulla way.
A few weeks ago a number of us were out at Lake Amadeus with Traditional Owners on a fauna survey; scientists, rangers, wildlife experts and a mob of old people. It was interesting watching this dynamic. Intersting because, I got to observe peoples different levels of sharing and generosity. Black fullas, white fullas. Sharing, in the context of food, water, knowledge, and, as individuals.
Barbara, a TO, humbled me with her generosity. She shared, without condition, traditional stories of that land, where water could be found, where sources of food could be located, where certain species of animals could be found. The knowledge and insight of this old woman was extraordinary. She hadn't been out to Lake Amadeus for over 30 years!
Scientists, with the knowledge Barbara had shared, went off quietly, unaccompanied, to 'check it out'. When they returned with their findings, they shared. Their sharing however, lacked generosity. It was in gobbledegook scientifc language and latin terminology. The average white fulla doesn't know what a carpius andronis is, let alone a mob of black fullas! They were stingy with their knowledge and what they had found and it irritated me!
Later that afternoon, Barbara caught a tinka. A small sand goanna. At night, we threw it into the hot coals and smoked it. Tinka is a white meat. Soft, a little greasy and is very sweet. And, delicious. When it was cooked, Barbara shared it with all of those white fulla scientists. She talked about where to find tinka, how to track it to it's burrow, how it is caught and killed. She explained this in plain english so that they could all understand. She withheld nothing. Barbara, like most Anangu (indigenous people from APY Lands) loves tinka. But she was happy to share it, without keeping any for herself or her family. She was generous. Unconditionally.
Only yesterday, I was at loggerheads with a colleague. An artist had called in to drop off some paintings. A senior woman. While she was waiting, she asked my colleague if she could have a glass of cold water. "There's the tap" he told her. "Wiya" she said. "Kapi kura" (No, that water is bad)
And, the water out of this particular tap is bad. It is only used for washing up. This tap is connected to a tank at the back of the art centre. The water runs through filthy gutters, and sits under a pepper tree. These berries fall into the tank and are poisonous. And recently, the tank was filled with the fire hose. Bottom line, water in this tank is not fit for human consumption!
"We haven't got any other water" my colleague told the old woman.
I was sitting in my office listening to this conversation, my blood pressure was rising.
Behind me, is a water cooler, containing cold, spring water.
"There's water in here" I yelled out.
"That's for us" my colleague said. I proceeded to fill a glass and handed it to my elder.
"You can't waste that water. They can drink the tap water. That water is for staff. What happens if we run out?" He continued
"Then we go to the store and buy some more. It's one glass." I told him.
"It doesn't matter" he said, "that water is for us only"
We argued for close to 15 minutes.
I then confronted him with this question: "If a white fulla had come through and requested a glass of water, would you give them water from the tap?"
To which he replied: "It's not the same. They're (black fullas) used to drinking that water".
By this stage, I could have clobbered him. But I didn't. I was gobsmacked. I could not believe, that on a hot day like yesterday, he was absolutely unwilling to share ONE glass of water with an old lady because she was black! This was the underlying issue. He could not spare one glass of water out of fear he may run out, and, because this woman was, heaven forbid, "an abo".
What this man is totally unaware of, is that, he thinks, this mob is inferior to him. That, these black fullas aren't deserving of a cold glass of water, water that he has this idea of being 'custodian' of in the office. It is behviour like this mans, that makes him inferior. There is nothing powerful or empowering about greed or racism. There is nothing empowering about not having the ability to share. There is nothing empowering about not giving a shit about a fellow human being, regardless of colour, on a hot day.
This mob embrace sharing and generosity. They embrace it among families, friends, and, strangers. They do it better than anyone I've known. So what is it about a handful of white fullas who do not have the capacity to share?
Why do white fullas think black fullas are less than, inferior and not good enough?
And, what if, black fullas and white fullas, could co-exist with an exchange of knowledge, sharing and generosity. Would that not be empowering?
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