“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?
Saturday, July 3, 2010
The Fire Keeper
Take me out of the darkness,
Bring me into the light,
And let me burn through the night.
I want you to see me.
Can you see me?
Don't be afraid,
It is ok for you to see me.
I am fire,
I am the keeper.
I am the initiator of rebirth and regeneration.
I bring growth and clearing,
Allowing the next generation of harvest to be reaped.
Terror, destruction -
That is not I.
I burn forever, across the land
I protect and generate new growth.
I am the earths soul, I am her heartbeat,
Your blood, my blood - it runs through her veins.
Bring me into the light,
And let me burn through the night.
I want you to see me.
Can you see me?
Don't be afraid,
It is ok for you to see me.
I am fire,
I am the keeper.
I am the initiator of rebirth and regeneration.
I bring growth and clearing,
Allowing the next generation of harvest to be reaped.
Terror, destruction -
That is not I.
I burn forever, across the land
I protect and generate new growth.
I am the earths soul, I am her heartbeat,
Your blood, my blood - it runs through her veins.
The Invisible Man
I am the invisible man.
Yes, I heard about you.
You cannot see me - but you, you see me,
Why can you see me?
I don't know why I can see you, but I see you.
To me, you are no invisble man.
I walk in the night,
While you are all in the sphere of slumber,
On the plane of your own existence.
I roam. I am trickery.
You see my shadow.
Yes, I see your shadow.
But you shouldn't see my shadow.
How can you see my shadow?
Your shadow is not invisible to me. I see your shadow.
Who are you? Tell me your name. You are unknown to me.
But you are known to me invisible man. They told me about you. You're a desert man.
They did not warn me about your type,
Close your eyes to me - withold your vision.
Some things should remain unseen.
For I, should remain unseen.
Yes, I heard about you.
You cannot see me - but you, you see me,
Why can you see me?
I don't know why I can see you, but I see you.
To me, you are no invisble man.
I walk in the night,
While you are all in the sphere of slumber,
On the plane of your own existence.
I roam. I am trickery.
You see my shadow.
Yes, I see your shadow.
But you shouldn't see my shadow.
How can you see my shadow?
Your shadow is not invisible to me. I see your shadow.
Who are you? Tell me your name. You are unknown to me.
But you are known to me invisible man. They told me about you. You're a desert man.
They did not warn me about your type,
Close your eyes to me - withold your vision.
Some things should remain unseen.
For I, should remain unseen.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Where I'm at!
Well - it's been a while since I've posted! And, a lot has occurred.
However, at the moment, it is freezing cold out here, it is late, and I have to be up at 3am to get some kooky old ladies organised and in a troopie for a drive to Alice Springs to catch their plane to Tasmania!
Lots to tell - but will leave it for next time!
Until then, I'll leave you with something I recently wrote - not sure where this inspiration came from - another place!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Black sunrise, I take away your pain,
Black sunrise, I'm crying it away.
He handed me an olive branch,
Candles are alight,
They're burning bright.
Cross stitch my heart, it's been ripped apart,
Black sunrise, you're all I see.
White hollow, do you remember me?
The scent of my soul - my essence -
Am I familiar?
White hollow, am I invisible to you?
A chrysalis in a cocoon?
Purple echo, you're all that I hear,
In my slumber,
In the waking hours of my day.
You whipser to me,
When will you float free?
However, at the moment, it is freezing cold out here, it is late, and I have to be up at 3am to get some kooky old ladies organised and in a troopie for a drive to Alice Springs to catch their plane to Tasmania!
Lots to tell - but will leave it for next time!
Until then, I'll leave you with something I recently wrote - not sure where this inspiration came from - another place!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Black sunrise, I take away your pain,
Black sunrise, I'm crying it away.
He handed me an olive branch,
Candles are alight,
They're burning bright.
Cross stitch my heart, it's been ripped apart,
Black sunrise, you're all I see.
White hollow, do you remember me?
The scent of my soul - my essence -
Am I familiar?
White hollow, am I invisible to you?
A chrysalis in a cocoon?
Purple echo, you're all that I hear,
In my slumber,
In the waking hours of my day.
You whipser to me,
When will you float free?
Sunday, April 11, 2010
The Power of Presence
A few day's ago, I began to re-read Ekhart Tolle's The Power of Now.
Like all of the work of Tolle, this book is a journey. You're presented with an opportunity to leave your ego and analytical mind behind as you plunge forward into The Power of Now. You learn, that, what happened in the past, happened in the now. What will happen in the future, will happen in the now. Our lives, happen in the now. He teaches us, that the biggest obstacle to enlightenment and presence, is our mind. Unconsciously, we have allowed our mind to use us, rather than us using it- he refers to this as disease. And, until we can free ourselves from our mind and 'witness' our thoughts, then, we won't experience true enlightenment.
It's a deeply profound and incredibly useful book, and, I'm not doing it any justice with what I'm writing about it, so, I suggest you buy it, and experience it for yourself!
So, presence. Over the weekend, I've become present to many a thing! And, have had some breakthroughs as a result.
By now, you'll all know I'm working for a not-for-profit organisation in a remote Aboriginal Community. Which means it is far from glamorous right? And, you'll also by now know, I moved out of a 2 bedroom, open house into a donga (shipping container) across the road. Definitely not glamorous! (And, for those who think I'm taking an opportunity to harp on about this, quit now! I have accepted this as it is what it is and have turned it into my own)
I've had some problems with the place. The drains are blocked (and smell), the toilet leaks, I have no fly screens on the windows, I have no screen door, the washing machine throws itself across the bathroom and stops mid-cycle, the lino on the floors is old and cracked. I could go on!
My main concern however, have been the fly screens and the washing machine, I could put up with the rest. And, since moving in in February, I've put up with the lot.
Why didn't I ask to have these things repaired? Well, firstly, I've never been great at asking for what I want; of myself or others. And secondly, there's the guilt of working for a not-for-profit organisation and not wanting to spend money on things for oneself.
However, I was reminded that we all pay into a 'maintenance fund' for such repairs. So, on Friday morning I asked. I asked for screens, repairs, and, a new washing machine. That afternoon, I had two tradesmen at my house 'assessing' what was required.
These desert women (and men) out here have mastery over presence, and, asking for what they want! They are only ever in the now. They are never in yesterday, or last week, or 2 years ago, or tomorrow. They're only ever in the now. When they go to the grocery store, they are only ever in the now and buy only the food they require for that day. They practice stillness and are able to dissociate themselves from their minds in a split second, on command!
They also have this almost magical ability to ask for what they want and have it manifested. You could be in the middle of the desert, bogged in the sand, and behind a tree, find a shovel to dig you out. I've seen it. They get so aligned, so present, they attract whatever they want into their space. And, leave the rest of us wondering what the hell happened!
I have been incredibly fortunate this weekend. For the first time, in many months, I have been able to practice stillness. Apart from a trip down the road to drop off Pantjiti and Elsie, I didn't leave the house. A huge breakthrough. And, a result of me becoming present to 'this is what I need'. I created the space to have time to acknowledge and honour myself. To re-fuel, re-energize, re-align and re-ignite. Today, i was able to look at myself, and what I'm creating.
Through the social media realms of Facebook, most of you will know that I've 'put out there' for an opportunity to spend some time at the Borneo Orangutan Survival Sanctuary (BOS) in Indonesia. This is something I've often thought about over the years. Not as a possibility. Just as a "wouldn't that be nice, keep dreaming Victoria". Today, I got 'present' to; "If I want this, I can create it". Funnily enough, I'd already added this to my vision board - a "Creative Visualisation" tool (another great book by Shakti Gawain). My vision board comprises of images, words, articles and affirmations of things I want to achieve.
This is the magic of this. When I did get 'present' to the possibility that I could create this, anything related to (BOS) was starting to show up everywhere! I opened up a magazine on my kitchen table - a BOS ad, a friends page on Facebook - a BOS link, the Sydney Morning Herald online - an ad to 'Save the Orangutans', in my inbox - information on another orangutan sanctuary. Are we getting the picture....?
These signs show up when we are in a state of presence. They showed up because I was present to 'this is what I want to create'.
Am I always present? I try to be. And, when I'm not, either one of these old women will call me on it, or, I get conscious and get myself anchored.
Presence is the most powerful place to operate from. It's where creations are birthed, and from where magic occurs. Try it!
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Kuwari - Today - A Day In The Life Of
Saturday
7am
"Victoria!!!" "Bang, thud, bang" Pantjiti, banging on my un-insulated, corrugated iron donga - aka - shipping container. I lay in bed, open my eyes and lay still. I tilt my head and I can see Uluru out of my bedroom window.
"Victoria! Mungawinki! Vic-toria! Nyuntu-pa nana, Pantjiti!" Transaltion - "Victoria, it's morning. Victoria. It's your nana, Pantjiti!"
"I know who you are" I'm thinking, and crawl under the doona.
"You better get up" Ben says.
"No, you better get up" I reply. "She'll go if we're really quiet" I whisper to him.
And, she did. And off we dozed.....
9am
"Vic-toria!" Bang, bang, against the bedroom wall!
"I ain't movin' " Ben says
"Victoria! Kunkga! (kungka means young girl) Mamu ere! (Mamu is ghost or spirit)
I drag myself out of bed, disoriented and open the door. The wind has begun to gently pick up and carries a Coke can along the sand, making a hollow tin can like noise as it bounces by. Pantjiti, blind in one eye looks at me and laughs.
"Munta! ('oops') Sorry!"
"Nyaa nyangatja?" (What's this? What's wrong?) I ask her from the door.
"Hey, mamu der last night" She whispers
"Yaaltji" (where) I ask her.
"That place over der" she whispers again, pointing to the Artist HQ "Room 1"
"Ngananya?" (Who was it) I whisper back
"Must be Yvonne ey. Someone threw a brick. " She says
"Maybe" I reply.
Yvonne normally stays in Room 1 when she's in from Docker River and is very territorial! It would be fair to say that she was letting Pantjiti know that she was on her turf!
"That Billy Cooley heard me scream. We put my swag in number 2" She laughed.
"Udda kungka yaaltji?"(where's that other girl) She wanted to know.
"Yaalitja kungka?" (which girl) I ask Pantjiti
"That ranger - Tracey"
"Must be at 'ome" I tell her
"Ring him up" She says
"Wiya. She's busy. Too early. We ring up after" I tell her.
"You might take me ey" Pantjiti told me
"Take you where?" I asked her, still in my jim jams
"Elsie ku ngura" (Elsies house)
"Uwoh. Elsie ngura kutju ( Elsie's house only). Then I gotta come home. Palya?" I asked her
"Uwa palya"
2pm
Ben decided to go into work which had left me in a space of quiet, and, openness. A friend had been in touch with me asking to review some of their work. Having completed my own tasks, I happily got to work.
I heard the washing machine finish it's cycle. I had to get those sheets on the line - rain was coming.
I was pegging my sheets on the line when the infamous sound of a diesel troopie was getting closer.
"Hey kami! (granddaughter). We visiting!" It was Elsie and Pantjiti. My 'grandmothers'.
"Allo nanas!"
I was in a mode of focus and concentration. Nothing would get in my way. Unless of course, two gorgeous old girls arrived at my house!
"You ladies want cuppa-tea?" I asked them.
"Uwa, uwa"
"You can stay, but I'm doing that whitefella work on the computer. Palya?" and I handed them their cups of tea.
"Uwa. You right" Elsie said
I sat back in front of the computer and continued what I was doing.
"Hey, kami, you 'ome"? That was Billy, my grandfather and his wife (my nana) Lulu
"Hello tjamu. Nyuntu palya"? (you good?) I asked him.
Billy and Lulu joined Elsie and Pantjiti who were sitting on my rolled swag.
"Yeh I'm right. You take us shopping?" Billy asked me.
"Wiya. I'm stayin' 'ere today. Ben'll take ya"
"Yeh, that's right" he said. Billy was wearing the most funkiest glasses I'd seen! They were 70's style sunnies with pink lenses and translucent yellow frames. Deadly!
Billy and Lulu wandered off and Elsie and Pantjiti started unrolling canvas' and unpacking paints.
I returned inside (again) to continue working. It was quite magical, having those two women on my doorstep translating the depths of their tjkurpa (dreaming) and creativity onto canvas as they chatted and laughed away, while I was reading and typing - in my own world of creativity.
Within half an hour, they were ready to move again - these ladies get around!
"Vic-toria (most of this mob pronounce my name with a pause in the middle!) you got any of that smelly stuff?" Pantjiti asked
"Yaalitja? That incense" I asked her
"Uwa."
"I'll give you some" I laughed
"Wiru-nya" (beautiful)
So, off we went again, both ladies with nag champa incense in their hand bags!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Getting On With It
The sun has just set behind Uluru, creating a backdrop of pink, purple and grey hues in the sky. I find myself sitting on my verandah smoking a cigarette enjoying stillness and quiet.
Within a moment, the howling of dogs fills the air - echoing throughout the community. They started a fair way away, and now, they're getting closer.. I begin to hear a creaking sound - whatever it is, it needs oiling! Then I see. It is Lilian in her wheelchair, her 14 year old granddaughter is struggling to push her through the soft red sand. Lilian is softly spoken and quite shy, and she has a smile that brings light to the most darkest of hours.
I watch them as they disappear around the corner, the barking of the dogs moving with them.
I'm left wondering...
Just before this, I read the judgement of another 14 year old (whose name and community I won't mention) who hung herself from a tree with an extension cord after having an argument with her mother over cigarettes.
Why am I sharing this, you might ask? Not entirely sure, but, after seeing the front page of a Sydney newspaper writing about a $40M upgrade to the Sydney Fish Markets, I figured this young girls life was worth acknowledging, and, am questioning why - with this money floating around - why is it not being poured into remote communities - across Australia, not just NT - to improve and, add services. Communities in so called "hick towns" are forgotten about and ignored because they're out of view!
But back to Lili and her extraordinary grandaughter who we'll call 'Daisy'. Daisy attends school regularly and helps to care for her grandmother and two younger sisters. She is introverted and quite shy but once she gets to know you, she'll let you in and share with you her deepest passions and aspirations.
Now, we all know, most 14 year olds in the big smoke wouldn't want a bar of pushing their grandmother and her wheelchair through sand, I'm 27 and try to avoid any dealings with my grandparents! I cringe when I make the token phone call every six months!
Out here, that's just life. Young people and old people are doing many things others wouldn't care to. Because, the attitude people have is to just get on with it. Time isn't wasted, dwelling, thinking "why me?". Something's gotta be done, and they do it. They're not waiting for someone to come along and do it for them.
As I mentioned earlier, there is a severe lack of services and resources, less than people care to acknowledge. This has been accepted as; 'it is what it is'. No-one is sitting around waiting for a miracle. People get on with it and make do with what resources they have.
I'm happy to admit, that, for quite a while at one point in my life, I was a person who spent time blaming other people and feeling sorry for myself. And, I have people in my life who are blaming others and moping around. Not even attempting to make any changes - and these people are in the City - lots of support there!
So, what is it that keeps people going in these remote areas. What drives them? And, what's the excuse for those who have access to support and resources readily available to them in the realms of suburbia?
While these guys are getting on with it, what are we not getting on with in our 3 bedroom suburban homes and airconditioned offices? What are we blaming other people for?
And, when will the heart of this country be seen??
Within a moment, the howling of dogs fills the air - echoing throughout the community. They started a fair way away, and now, they're getting closer.. I begin to hear a creaking sound - whatever it is, it needs oiling! Then I see. It is Lilian in her wheelchair, her 14 year old granddaughter is struggling to push her through the soft red sand. Lilian is softly spoken and quite shy, and she has a smile that brings light to the most darkest of hours.
I watch them as they disappear around the corner, the barking of the dogs moving with them.
I'm left wondering...
Just before this, I read the judgement of another 14 year old (whose name and community I won't mention) who hung herself from a tree with an extension cord after having an argument with her mother over cigarettes.
Why am I sharing this, you might ask? Not entirely sure, but, after seeing the front page of a Sydney newspaper writing about a $40M upgrade to the Sydney Fish Markets, I figured this young girls life was worth acknowledging, and, am questioning why - with this money floating around - why is it not being poured into remote communities - across Australia, not just NT - to improve and, add services. Communities in so called "hick towns" are forgotten about and ignored because they're out of view!
But back to Lili and her extraordinary grandaughter who we'll call 'Daisy'. Daisy attends school regularly and helps to care for her grandmother and two younger sisters. She is introverted and quite shy but once she gets to know you, she'll let you in and share with you her deepest passions and aspirations.
Now, we all know, most 14 year olds in the big smoke wouldn't want a bar of pushing their grandmother and her wheelchair through sand, I'm 27 and try to avoid any dealings with my grandparents! I cringe when I make the token phone call every six months!
Out here, that's just life. Young people and old people are doing many things others wouldn't care to. Because, the attitude people have is to just get on with it. Time isn't wasted, dwelling, thinking "why me?". Something's gotta be done, and they do it. They're not waiting for someone to come along and do it for them.
As I mentioned earlier, there is a severe lack of services and resources, less than people care to acknowledge. This has been accepted as; 'it is what it is'. No-one is sitting around waiting for a miracle. People get on with it and make do with what resources they have.
I'm happy to admit, that, for quite a while at one point in my life, I was a person who spent time blaming other people and feeling sorry for myself. And, I have people in my life who are blaming others and moping around. Not even attempting to make any changes - and these people are in the City - lots of support there!
So, what is it that keeps people going in these remote areas. What drives them? And, what's the excuse for those who have access to support and resources readily available to them in the realms of suburbia?
While these guys are getting on with it, what are we not getting on with in our 3 bedroom suburban homes and airconditioned offices? What are we blaming other people for?
And, when will the heart of this country be seen??
Monday, April 5, 2010
Another Place, Another Time
It's Easter Sunday, and here I am in Alice Springs. It's hot, humid, and I'm sitting in my own sweat after my third cold shower today. I arrived here yesterday with my two extra passengers. Daniel, 9 and Justin 12. They hitched a ride into town with me to attend the Lightning Carnival - a football/sports carnival. They came in with me because their father had forgotten them and didn't realise they weren't in the car until he arrived 450km later!
When I left Mutiitjulu to come to Alice Springs, it felt like an escape or a flee. What I needed was some downtime and time away from the constant demands of community living. I arrived on a friends doorstep exhausted and ragged, and, incredibly raw. Overwhelmed, I made an attempt at having an intellectual conversation and tried to hide where I was actually at, but, all I could do was cry. After a debrief and a strong cup of coffee, I retreated to my bedroom for a lay down.
I began flicking through a magazine and then logged on to work emails - I couldn't get away! And, I certainly couldn't relax. So, I got in the car and drove off looking for something to do. Nothing. No-one needed anything, There wasn't any running around to do. "My God" I thought. "There's plenty to do. What could I be doing"? I asked myself. "You gotta stop". That womans voice again. I drove back to Naomis stopping at the service station for a pack of ciggarettes, and, returned to my room.
I could hear Naomi snoring, so I thought perhaps it might be a good idea if I lay down too. "I'm not going to sleep" I thought. So, I lay there, breathing deeply and entered into a meditation to slow my body down. Before I knew, I had drifted to sleep, or so I thought..
I felt someone take my hand. When I looked, it was Nellie. Nellie is one of the traditional owners of Umutju. An incredibly sacred and remote area of South West NT. It is the land of the mother and home to many spirit children. It is said that, women would travel to this land when they were ready to conceive and a spirit child would enter her womb. To this day, when and where possible, women will visit Umutju when they are ready to conceive.
I opened my eyes, my hand still in Nellies and I was in awe of what I saw. An abundance of crystal blue waters flowing, and a lusciously green desert.
Physically, Umutju is rather harsh. The ground is thorny, the area is remote and the status remains TBE (to be established). This means, it is incredibly difficult for anyone to live out there and care for that land. Energetically however, Umutju is soft, nurturing and, is a place of a higher dimension and frequency. Its waterholes hold potent healing water, and you don't leave this place not feeling fully charged.
I could hear Nellie speaking to me, telling me what was going on. We were in another time, where this land could be lived on, and, lived off. The abundance of water and crops made it easy. And, what was even more profound, was that there men, and, women, both black and white living here together. This area had always been for women.
I woke up from this trip to Umutju with my body still vibrating and I began to sob.
I phoned Nellie to get a grip on this phenomenon - as you can imagine, I was feeling quite rattled, and, if you're reading this, you might think I am insane!
Nellie told me about what we saw and how this is her dream for Umutju. "This what it's gonna be like one day. But first you gotta heal, and that land gotta heal".
While it's no surprise as I see it all the time from these women, it still blows me away - the level of connection and consciousness and wisdom these women have. From Adelaide, she conciously took me to Umutju for some reason I don't understand. These women have the capacity to be absolutely rooted and grounded and, be somewhere else simultaneously, taking you with them.
Under Nellies guidance, I can only share parts of what occurred.
These connections and experiences are an absolute privilege, and, I have much to learn from them, like, being grounded, and, being able to travel somewhere else without getting lost in the ethers. It's a skill, and, one I will continue to develop with age and experience, accompanied by the guidance of the elders.
When I left Mutiitjulu to come to Alice Springs, it felt like an escape or a flee. What I needed was some downtime and time away from the constant demands of community living. I arrived on a friends doorstep exhausted and ragged, and, incredibly raw. Overwhelmed, I made an attempt at having an intellectual conversation and tried to hide where I was actually at, but, all I could do was cry. After a debrief and a strong cup of coffee, I retreated to my bedroom for a lay down.
I began flicking through a magazine and then logged on to work emails - I couldn't get away! And, I certainly couldn't relax. So, I got in the car and drove off looking for something to do. Nothing. No-one needed anything, There wasn't any running around to do. "My God" I thought. "There's plenty to do. What could I be doing"? I asked myself. "You gotta stop". That womans voice again. I drove back to Naomis stopping at the service station for a pack of ciggarettes, and, returned to my room.
I could hear Naomi snoring, so I thought perhaps it might be a good idea if I lay down too. "I'm not going to sleep" I thought. So, I lay there, breathing deeply and entered into a meditation to slow my body down. Before I knew, I had drifted to sleep, or so I thought..
I felt someone take my hand. When I looked, it was Nellie. Nellie is one of the traditional owners of Umutju. An incredibly sacred and remote area of South West NT. It is the land of the mother and home to many spirit children. It is said that, women would travel to this land when they were ready to conceive and a spirit child would enter her womb. To this day, when and where possible, women will visit Umutju when they are ready to conceive.
I opened my eyes, my hand still in Nellies and I was in awe of what I saw. An abundance of crystal blue waters flowing, and a lusciously green desert.
Physically, Umutju is rather harsh. The ground is thorny, the area is remote and the status remains TBE (to be established). This means, it is incredibly difficult for anyone to live out there and care for that land. Energetically however, Umutju is soft, nurturing and, is a place of a higher dimension and frequency. Its waterholes hold potent healing water, and you don't leave this place not feeling fully charged.
I could hear Nellie speaking to me, telling me what was going on. We were in another time, where this land could be lived on, and, lived off. The abundance of water and crops made it easy. And, what was even more profound, was that there men, and, women, both black and white living here together. This area had always been for women.
I woke up from this trip to Umutju with my body still vibrating and I began to sob.
I phoned Nellie to get a grip on this phenomenon - as you can imagine, I was feeling quite rattled, and, if you're reading this, you might think I am insane!
Nellie told me about what we saw and how this is her dream for Umutju. "This what it's gonna be like one day. But first you gotta heal, and that land gotta heal".
While it's no surprise as I see it all the time from these women, it still blows me away - the level of connection and consciousness and wisdom these women have. From Adelaide, she conciously took me to Umutju for some reason I don't understand. These women have the capacity to be absolutely rooted and grounded and, be somewhere else simultaneously, taking you with them.
Under Nellies guidance, I can only share parts of what occurred.
These connections and experiences are an absolute privilege, and, I have much to learn from them, like, being grounded, and, being able to travel somewhere else without getting lost in the ethers. It's a skill, and, one I will continue to develop with age and experience, accompanied by the guidance of the elders.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Isolation Vs Overwhelm
The sun has set behind Uluru and I find myself in a place of calm. Candles and incense are burning and I'm reveling in my clean space after spending 7 hours on housework!
Janet, an artist from Ernabella is staying at our Artist HQ after having spent a week out here for womens business. Janet carries the essence of a young girl. She is in her 50's and has a silver head of tight ringlets. Sweet? Sometimes. If you upset Janet, you'll be the first to know! She has the capacity to be very loud, demanding and can carry on like a spoilt child! She is the "baby" among the elders, but is a very highly respected inma woman, known for her dancing and singing. I'm watching her outside my window, moths swarming to the lights around her and she is screaming at whoever is on the other end of her new mobile phone. A part finished canvas at her feet bearing the "Kungka Kutjara" tjukurpa. (Two sisters) the youngest who is sick from over menstruating as her blood soaks into the earth.
A few days ago, many women, black and white emerged from the womens site after having 5 days of inma (womens ceremonies). It is a time of healing, learning, coming home to oneself, and, of uncovering many layers. And, many layers there were! Boundaries are tested and one's ability to cope with heat, thousands of flies, and camping out for 5 days with no amenities can be an absolute challenge.
As someone who is living and working on community, I experience moments of isolation and lonliness. And, although I have friends out here who help fill that void, there are times where I feel an incompleteness, and, a discomfort with being with myself. This at times can be incredibly confronting and challenging. It's in the moment that I surrender to these emotions that I am able to have freedom around it. The biggest challenge this week has been around the fact that I had some friends come out for inma, and, one friend in particular. We met out here a few years ago and I felt a connection instantly. She is my mirror. Over the past week, we spent most of our time sitting together in hysterics, laughing at the ridiculous behaviour people display when they are trying to 'cope'. While she is here, she is an anchor for me.
Twice a year, I crave on this contact with the women and thrive on it while they are here.
So, the next few days, I'm reintegrating and transitioning into the "being with myself" space. As unconfortable as this is, I know this is what I have to learn. The old women here have been teaching me stillness and being present in the moment. What they have also been teaching me is to have more boundaries and doing what is right for my own sanity.
Over the past few weeks, I have been pushing myself to the point of almost burning out. Trying to keep everyone happy and having their needs met is a big task, and, something I try so hard to do. Timely, yesterday one of the elders came and knocked on my door to check on me. She reminded me that by trying to please everyone and meeting their needs, I'm missing out on my needs being met which would make me useless to anyone. "They're trying to teach you to say no. But you're not listening. You gotta say no sometimes. They want you to say no. You're too soft. Too too soft. If you don't toughen up, you won't survive out here."
After she left, I sat with that thought for a while. She was right. If I didn't begin to get clear on my boundaries, there was no way I'd survive. In all honesty, thoughts had begun creeping into my mind about shooting off. Of just leaving and not telling anyone. But then, where would I go? Certainly, my intention is to keep moving around Australia, but, there's more for me to learn in the Red Centre yet!
Will I ever stay grounded in my boundaries? Eventually. Perhaps my way of getting through the periods of lonliness and isolation is to run around after people, trying to please them. And, if this is the case, then when will I ever feel comfortable with being with myself? That's what I'm learning. Everything else that comes with it is a bonus.
Janet, an artist from Ernabella is staying at our Artist HQ after having spent a week out here for womens business. Janet carries the essence of a young girl. She is in her 50's and has a silver head of tight ringlets. Sweet? Sometimes. If you upset Janet, you'll be the first to know! She has the capacity to be very loud, demanding and can carry on like a spoilt child! She is the "baby" among the elders, but is a very highly respected inma woman, known for her dancing and singing. I'm watching her outside my window, moths swarming to the lights around her and she is screaming at whoever is on the other end of her new mobile phone. A part finished canvas at her feet bearing the "Kungka Kutjara" tjukurpa. (Two sisters) the youngest who is sick from over menstruating as her blood soaks into the earth.
A few days ago, many women, black and white emerged from the womens site after having 5 days of inma (womens ceremonies). It is a time of healing, learning, coming home to oneself, and, of uncovering many layers. And, many layers there were! Boundaries are tested and one's ability to cope with heat, thousands of flies, and camping out for 5 days with no amenities can be an absolute challenge.
As someone who is living and working on community, I experience moments of isolation and lonliness. And, although I have friends out here who help fill that void, there are times where I feel an incompleteness, and, a discomfort with being with myself. This at times can be incredibly confronting and challenging. It's in the moment that I surrender to these emotions that I am able to have freedom around it. The biggest challenge this week has been around the fact that I had some friends come out for inma, and, one friend in particular. We met out here a few years ago and I felt a connection instantly. She is my mirror. Over the past week, we spent most of our time sitting together in hysterics, laughing at the ridiculous behaviour people display when they are trying to 'cope'. While she is here, she is an anchor for me.
Twice a year, I crave on this contact with the women and thrive on it while they are here.
So, the next few days, I'm reintegrating and transitioning into the "being with myself" space. As unconfortable as this is, I know this is what I have to learn. The old women here have been teaching me stillness and being present in the moment. What they have also been teaching me is to have more boundaries and doing what is right for my own sanity.
Over the past few weeks, I have been pushing myself to the point of almost burning out. Trying to keep everyone happy and having their needs met is a big task, and, something I try so hard to do. Timely, yesterday one of the elders came and knocked on my door to check on me. She reminded me that by trying to please everyone and meeting their needs, I'm missing out on my needs being met which would make me useless to anyone. "They're trying to teach you to say no. But you're not listening. You gotta say no sometimes. They want you to say no. You're too soft. Too too soft. If you don't toughen up, you won't survive out here."
After she left, I sat with that thought for a while. She was right. If I didn't begin to get clear on my boundaries, there was no way I'd survive. In all honesty, thoughts had begun creeping into my mind about shooting off. Of just leaving and not telling anyone. But then, where would I go? Certainly, my intention is to keep moving around Australia, but, there's more for me to learn in the Red Centre yet!
Will I ever stay grounded in my boundaries? Eventually. Perhaps my way of getting through the periods of lonliness and isolation is to run around after people, trying to please them. And, if this is the case, then when will I ever feel comfortable with being with myself? That's what I'm learning. Everything else that comes with it is a bonus.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
The Art of Partnership
"See nana, look how how I'm carving him out. With the axe. Alatjti. You watch me"
Wood chips are flying from the piece of River Red Gum Billy Cooley is carving. And I watch, totally inspired.
To most, this looks like an ordinary branch. But what Billy and his wife Lulu can do with this branch results in something quite extraordinary and beautiful.
Maruku has been asked to provide carved piti bowls to the WA Department of State Development. The bowls are being given as gifts at the World Expo in Shanghai.
Our artists, not shy of a challenge, have been out sourcing the appropriate punu to begin carving bowls. Billy and Lulu are two of them. And, they are currently in residence at Maruku's Artist Headquarters. Ben recently took them out - a place between Amata and Mulga Park across trackless desert in a dried out river bed. They returned - just - after having spiked two tyres! Thankfully, they travelled with 2 spares!
Watching Billy and Lulu work is mezmerising, and, inspiring. That husband and wife, can work and live together - all day - everyday, is such a beautiful thing to see. One doesn't go anywhere without the other. They truly are "one".
Together, they craft wood. Billy splitting them, and carving out the red core with an axe, he hands what is beginning to look like a piti bowl to Lulu. Lulu rasps and smoothes them then sands them down while Billy starts the next one.
Once finished, they are ready for the walka – Lulu has a signature, distinct design that she burns into the outside of the bowl with red hot wire which has been sitting in the hot coals of a fire.
“We work together, see.” Billy says smiling. “I do this one, nana cleans him up”
And they do. They work together, complimenting one another, checking and finishing each others’ work. The art of partnership resulting in something so exquisite and perfect
Steamy Centre
I'm flying down the road, CD blaring and I'm singing along to Madonna's "Material Girl" at the top of my lungs as I look at Uluru outside the window. The bush version of an 80's party in my Maruku van.
The rain has now cleared, grey clouds float above the Rock but are moving east. It's steamy as the moisture rises from the earth. Big puddle! Minga! (Direct translation: ant. The locals call tourists mingas because they look like ants when they climb Uluru). I can do 1 of 2 things.
Swerve and miss it, or, drive straight through it and saturate this poor bastard!
SPLASH! I know karma will get me for it, but I figured, that was their karma if they climbed!! Not the nicest thing I've done (nor the nastiest for that matter!) but it was a great story to tell the old women, and, a story for the minga to take back with him!
Further along, I could see something on the road, raised, a reddish brown colour. "Aah" I thought. "Ngiyari" - Thorny Devil. A very ferocious looking reptile, which, in actual fact, is slow moving and very gentle when handled. They are an adorably delightful little creature who become disoriented if you pick them up then put them down in the opposite direction that they were heading! I'm notorious for pulling over several times on the road, chucking a u'ie and picking the little critters up off the road and propping in the scrub.
That's the beautiful thing about Australia's Red Centre. The phenomenon of the weather - heavy rain and then extreme heat, brings different creatures out in various stages. So at the moment, Thorny Devils are out and about, Centipedes are causing havoc, and the frogs, well, they've come out from underground and their crazy mating frenzy and are hopping about all over the place!
Yesterday, Australia's central landscape was silver and wet, today, the wildlife are roaming and she's red.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Desert Girl Friday - A Day in the Life of - Part 2
I've just swapped my Landcruiser for the mini bus and I'm outside the Maruku Artist HQ donga's. I let go of the idea of cleaning my floors. I'd vaccumed them and figured I'd mop them that night!
Beep, beep! "Yo! C'mon you mob!"
And like lemmings, all seven Cooley's filed toward the car through the rain. It was 4in the afternoon and we were heading for the town supermarket - IGA Yulara! Nothing too hard and I was sure it would be an easy experience that wouldn't take any more than an hour.
I find myself comparing fabric softeners. Yes, I know, fabric softeners! Moving out of home has been the cause of me doing many a crazy things - like - worrying about the state of my floors!
"Hello malpa girl"
"I know that voice. Hey Aunty Alison"
Chit chat, chit chat, chit chat and a conversation about sugar soap!
"Don't go until I leave to make sure my car starts"
"Oowa palya, no worries"
The Cooley clan are ready to go, it's 5.30 and the kids are tired and hungry. Alison moves slowly and innocently forgets there are people waiting for her!
She hops in, turns the key - nothing. Dead.
"Ah sh*t" I'm thinking. Ben told me not to use the mini bus to jump start a diesel because it would bugger up the electrics, and, that Delica I was driving had a motor with very little power.
However, when you're travelling with blackfellas, you do a lot of things with cars that you're not meant to. Using a flour drum as a seat, filling a tyre tube with pillows and blankets when there's no spare, using a tree branch as an axle when you break one, and using a spanna to steer without a steering wheel are just a few.
So, I drove over and went through the whole process again. Nothing.
"Rev it up dear" She called out.
"I'm up to 5 revs and in the red - I'm gonna blow the motor!"
Billy is playing around under the bonnet while all this is happening.
"This car hasn't got enough power. You need a Toyota or something big to get it going"
We looked in the car park which was full of hire cars - Camrys.
We are then approached by 2 teachers from the college and a channel 9 reporter.
"We've got a Landrover. That should start it. I'll bring it over"
"Bloody English rubbish" Billy whispers to me.
He pops the bonnet. Everything is backwards. Inside and out!
"Battery wiya?" Asked Alison
No-one could find a battery
"It should be under the seat" Billy tried to tell them.
"Nah" said the bloke who was driving it said. "Nothing under the seat"
He hadn't even looked. So, here we are now 10 of us, in the rain, looking for a battery in this bloody Landrover!
"Let's drop this mob and their shopping home, we'll grab the other Landcruiser and we'll drive back and start him up again. Palya?" I asked Alison.
"Yes, ok dear. But look how I parked. You mob will have to push me out and push me back in so I can straighten up"
I take my hat off to anyone who has pushed a Toyota Landcruiser in the rain! It's hard work! We straightened it up and were on our way (again).
We didn't get very far. Of course they all wanted to stop at the service station for litres of chocolate milk, copious amounts of Coke, M&M's, fried chicken and pies. Alison and I sat in the front dry reaching the whole way out to the community!
We arrive back, drop the clan off, swap cars and I put my groceries away. I open the fridge and I am beside myself. Clearly Ben had run out of room in his fridge and thought he'd use my space to house some rabbits he'd shot! They'd not been skinned or gutted. I grabbed the bag and they went flying out the door!
"Alatji! Ok, lets go!"
By now it's almost 8pm. The rain had become heavier and I was exhausted.
We were back in the same spot as I pulled up next to Alisons car. She's fumbling around in the dark looking for something - car keys.
I love her dearly, but she can be so slow.
"Here, give me your handbag, I'll have a look" I told her.
Nothing.
"Are they in your pocket?" I asked her
"Wiya nothing"
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure, look"
"What about your bra?"
"I don't put things in my bra"
"Just check your bra"
"No. Nothing"
"Wait, I'll go and check the ignition" I said
Nothing.
I was grumpy, wet, and tired.
"Let me check your bag again"
Nothing.
"What did you do with them? Where did you put them?"
"I had them in the bus. I put them on the dash board. I must have left them there"
When I was 18, a wise woman named Karen told me "patience is a virtue". I held this thought.
"Ben might bring it out ey?" She asked me
"He's been out bush and he's worked today. He's stuffed"
I ring him. "Hello sweetheart. The dogs said thanks for the rabbits, but that's not why I'm ringing you. Can you please go and check the dash of the bus for Alisons car keys. It's a single Toyota key on a long plaited leather strap?"
"I'll call you back" He sounded buggered.
"I've checked the dash, the glovebox, the floor, under the seats and on the ground. Can't see a key" He told us.
"F*%#%!" was the most appropriate word I could come up with!
"Did she leave 'em in the ignition?"
"No, I checked"
"Are they on the ground where she's parked?"
"No, I checked"
"Are they on the ground where you were parked earlier?" Ben asked me
"Why would they be there?" My patience now wearing thin.
"Go and check"
"Ok" and I went through the rain to where I had parked earlier. I looked down, and sure enough there they were in a puddle!
"I would have found them!" I told him
"What were you saying about my rabbits?"
"Nothing. Gotta go. Bye!"
After another half hour of clamping jump leads and several attempts of revving and starting, we got it going again.
I followed her home to ensure she got back and out I headed back to the community. Third time that day.
It was approaching midnight and I'd wondered where my Saturday had gone?!
Beep, beep! "Yo! C'mon you mob!"
And like lemmings, all seven Cooley's filed toward the car through the rain. It was 4in the afternoon and we were heading for the town supermarket - IGA Yulara! Nothing too hard and I was sure it would be an easy experience that wouldn't take any more than an hour.
I find myself comparing fabric softeners. Yes, I know, fabric softeners! Moving out of home has been the cause of me doing many a crazy things - like - worrying about the state of my floors!
"Hello malpa girl"
"I know that voice. Hey Aunty Alison"
Chit chat, chit chat, chit chat and a conversation about sugar soap!
"Don't go until I leave to make sure my car starts"
"Oowa palya, no worries"
The Cooley clan are ready to go, it's 5.30 and the kids are tired and hungry. Alison moves slowly and innocently forgets there are people waiting for her!
She hops in, turns the key - nothing. Dead.
"Ah sh*t" I'm thinking. Ben told me not to use the mini bus to jump start a diesel because it would bugger up the electrics, and, that Delica I was driving had a motor with very little power.
However, when you're travelling with blackfellas, you do a lot of things with cars that you're not meant to. Using a flour drum as a seat, filling a tyre tube with pillows and blankets when there's no spare, using a tree branch as an axle when you break one, and using a spanna to steer without a steering wheel are just a few.
So, I drove over and went through the whole process again. Nothing.
"Rev it up dear" She called out.
"I'm up to 5 revs and in the red - I'm gonna blow the motor!"
Billy is playing around under the bonnet while all this is happening.
"This car hasn't got enough power. You need a Toyota or something big to get it going"
We looked in the car park which was full of hire cars - Camrys.
We are then approached by 2 teachers from the college and a channel 9 reporter.
"We've got a Landrover. That should start it. I'll bring it over"
"Bloody English rubbish" Billy whispers to me.
He pops the bonnet. Everything is backwards. Inside and out!
"Battery wiya?" Asked Alison
No-one could find a battery
"It should be under the seat" Billy tried to tell them.
"Nah" said the bloke who was driving it said. "Nothing under the seat"
He hadn't even looked. So, here we are now 10 of us, in the rain, looking for a battery in this bloody Landrover!
"Let's drop this mob and their shopping home, we'll grab the other Landcruiser and we'll drive back and start him up again. Palya?" I asked Alison.
"Yes, ok dear. But look how I parked. You mob will have to push me out and push me back in so I can straighten up"
I take my hat off to anyone who has pushed a Toyota Landcruiser in the rain! It's hard work! We straightened it up and were on our way (again).
We didn't get very far. Of course they all wanted to stop at the service station for litres of chocolate milk, copious amounts of Coke, M&M's, fried chicken and pies. Alison and I sat in the front dry reaching the whole way out to the community!
We arrive back, drop the clan off, swap cars and I put my groceries away. I open the fridge and I am beside myself. Clearly Ben had run out of room in his fridge and thought he'd use my space to house some rabbits he'd shot! They'd not been skinned or gutted. I grabbed the bag and they went flying out the door!
"Alatji! Ok, lets go!"
By now it's almost 8pm. The rain had become heavier and I was exhausted.
We were back in the same spot as I pulled up next to Alisons car. She's fumbling around in the dark looking for something - car keys.
I love her dearly, but she can be so slow.
"Here, give me your handbag, I'll have a look" I told her.
Nothing.
"Are they in your pocket?" I asked her
"Wiya nothing"
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure, look"
"What about your bra?"
"I don't put things in my bra"
"Just check your bra"
"No. Nothing"
"Wait, I'll go and check the ignition" I said
Nothing.
I was grumpy, wet, and tired.
"Let me check your bag again"
Nothing.
"What did you do with them? Where did you put them?"
"I had them in the bus. I put them on the dash board. I must have left them there"
When I was 18, a wise woman named Karen told me "patience is a virtue". I held this thought.
"Ben might bring it out ey?" She asked me
"He's been out bush and he's worked today. He's stuffed"
I ring him. "Hello sweetheart. The dogs said thanks for the rabbits, but that's not why I'm ringing you. Can you please go and check the dash of the bus for Alisons car keys. It's a single Toyota key on a long plaited leather strap?"
"I'll call you back" He sounded buggered.
"I've checked the dash, the glovebox, the floor, under the seats and on the ground. Can't see a key" He told us.
"F*%#%!" was the most appropriate word I could come up with!
"Did she leave 'em in the ignition?"
"No, I checked"
"Are they on the ground where she's parked?"
"No, I checked"
"Are they on the ground where you were parked earlier?" Ben asked me
"Why would they be there?" My patience now wearing thin.
"Go and check"
"Ok" and I went through the rain to where I had parked earlier. I looked down, and sure enough there they were in a puddle!
"I would have found them!" I told him
"What were you saying about my rabbits?"
"Nothing. Gotta go. Bye!"
After another half hour of clamping jump leads and several attempts of revving and starting, we got it going again.
I followed her home to ensure she got back and out I headed back to the community. Third time that day.
It was approaching midnight and I'd wondered where my Saturday had gone?!
Desert Girl Friday - A Day in the Life of - Part 1
It's Saturday, raining, and I'm wondering how my washing is going to dry. I like to contemplate some of the worlds biggest problems!
I'm conducting my routine, ritualistic Saturday task. HOUSEWORK! I cannot enjoy my weekend until I know that this has been done. Oils are burning, the scent of satya sai baba incense lingers, and the mellowing sound of Tori Amos gets me into 'the space'.
I've dusted, de-webbed, sterilsed and disinfected. I have the floors to go. Then the phone rings. The first person who comes to mind is my mother. "I won't answer it" I think to myself. She rarely rings. "What if it's urgent"?
"Hello?"
"Malpa girl"
"Hi Aunty Alison, nyunta palya?"
"Nyaba? What you doin dear?"
"I'm doing housework. You know what I do on Saturdays! What's up?"
"You clean too much. Work too much. You need to rest."
"Rest? What rest? When rest? What are you doing?"
"We went to Umbiara for punu and tjala. Car won't start. We stuck out here. Can you or Ben come out. Pleeease?"
"Of course I'll come out. Ben's gone shooting. Where at Umbiara are you?"
"Nganatja. (Here) you know that place?"
"No, I don't know 'that' place, I need you to be specific."
"Near the homelands. Just follow my tracks. We on the left hand side of the big washout where the creek bed is"
"What's wrong with it?"
"Won't start. Motor won't turn over. Battery is flat malpa. I got some jump leads. But bring a tow rope incase" I looked at my floors as I listened to Aunty Alison.
Could you begin to imagine what I am thinking by this stage! Umbiara is about 1 hour out of town down a dirt track in the direction of Lake Amadeus and forms part of the Katiti Land Trust. There is nothing more confronting than having to travel out to find someone and not know exactly where they are. Thankfully, my sense of direction has become quite polished and the old people have taught me to track, so, I felt fairly comfortable going out.
After so much rain, the condition of the road had deteriorated. To avoid getting bogged, I had to leave the road and drive cross country! Yee ha! And camels! Even better!
To avoid getting lost and missing the tracks, I got back onto the road and hit a flooded washout. Ciggarette hanging out of my mouth, windows open - SPLAAAASH! Red mud covers the car, windscreen, and, me! The wipers screech as I clear to see and the tyres on the left hand side leave the ground. BANG! The tyres on the right hand side are in the air and the ones on the left are back on the ground! THUD! All tyres are back on the ground. There was a "near roll" experience!! Because of course I needed to check the box called "4WD'ng on a Saturday!"
Driving along, more camels! They can smell the pools of water!
I could sense I was getting closer and I began to hear Alison speaking and guiding me. There they were, tyre tracks. I followed them through the thick scrub of mulga, maku bush, spinifex and desert oaks, continuing along side the creek bed until they were in sight.
The smell of singed kangaroo tail fur floated towards me and the sound of axes hitting bits of bloodwood that the women had collected earlier being carried on the wind. Four of my nanas and Aunty Alison sitting around a fire.
"Heeeeeeey! Kungka warra wiru pulka, mulapa!" They all sang. (Direct Translation: Truly a beautiful young woman!) Hmmm...?
"Siddown. The billy is on. I'll make cuppa tea. Want some wipu and damper?" (wipu, or malu wipu is kangaroo tail)
Unsure as to whether I was in the mood for malu wipu, I decided I'd settle for Aunty Alisons most delicious fluffy damper and a cup of billy tea.
After about 15 minutes, I was ready to get this car started and get going.
"Palya? Let's start him up"
"Wiya" Said nana Barbara as well as a whole lot of other things in Pitatjantjara.
"Nana said you gotta sit and rest for a little while"
"I have stuff to do" I told them. "I have to finish at home and then take Billy mob shopping"
But they were adamant. They shared their concern and asked thatbI just sit.
So, there I sat on a tarp by this creekbed, red muddy earth beneath and the women sang.
As the old women sang, one of them came over to me and began working with me energetically. I can't share too much, but after a very emotional release, and the most divine healing of hands, I felt light and calm. They had been so right. I really did just need to sit still.
"Ok malpa. Red on red, black on black" Aunty Alison told me over my shoulder.
"I know, I know" As I clasped the jump leads to the batteries
We started our cars.
"Rev him up" I called out
Both Toyotos revved loudly through the desert and the overpowering stench of deisel fumes overcame us. After a few attempts, Alison's car was ready to go.
We drove out in convoy and I was heading home.
All I could think of were my floors......
I'm conducting my routine, ritualistic Saturday task. HOUSEWORK! I cannot enjoy my weekend until I know that this has been done. Oils are burning, the scent of satya sai baba incense lingers, and the mellowing sound of Tori Amos gets me into 'the space'.
I've dusted, de-webbed, sterilsed and disinfected. I have the floors to go. Then the phone rings. The first person who comes to mind is my mother. "I won't answer it" I think to myself. She rarely rings. "What if it's urgent"?
"Hello?"
"Malpa girl"
"Hi Aunty Alison, nyunta palya?"
"Nyaba? What you doin dear?"
"I'm doing housework. You know what I do on Saturdays! What's up?"
"You clean too much. Work too much. You need to rest."
"Rest? What rest? When rest? What are you doing?"
"We went to Umbiara for punu and tjala. Car won't start. We stuck out here. Can you or Ben come out. Pleeease?"
"Of course I'll come out. Ben's gone shooting. Where at Umbiara are you?"
"Nganatja. (Here) you know that place?"
"No, I don't know 'that' place, I need you to be specific."
"Near the homelands. Just follow my tracks. We on the left hand side of the big washout where the creek bed is"
"What's wrong with it?"
"Won't start. Motor won't turn over. Battery is flat malpa. I got some jump leads. But bring a tow rope incase" I looked at my floors as I listened to Aunty Alison.
Could you begin to imagine what I am thinking by this stage! Umbiara is about 1 hour out of town down a dirt track in the direction of Lake Amadeus and forms part of the Katiti Land Trust. There is nothing more confronting than having to travel out to find someone and not know exactly where they are. Thankfully, my sense of direction has become quite polished and the old people have taught me to track, so, I felt fairly comfortable going out.
After so much rain, the condition of the road had deteriorated. To avoid getting bogged, I had to leave the road and drive cross country! Yee ha! And camels! Even better!
To avoid getting lost and missing the tracks, I got back onto the road and hit a flooded washout. Ciggarette hanging out of my mouth, windows open - SPLAAAASH! Red mud covers the car, windscreen, and, me! The wipers screech as I clear to see and the tyres on the left hand side leave the ground. BANG! The tyres on the right hand side are in the air and the ones on the left are back on the ground! THUD! All tyres are back on the ground. There was a "near roll" experience!! Because of course I needed to check the box called "4WD'ng on a Saturday!"
Driving along, more camels! They can smell the pools of water!
I could sense I was getting closer and I began to hear Alison speaking and guiding me. There they were, tyre tracks. I followed them through the thick scrub of mulga, maku bush, spinifex and desert oaks, continuing along side the creek bed until they were in sight.
The smell of singed kangaroo tail fur floated towards me and the sound of axes hitting bits of bloodwood that the women had collected earlier being carried on the wind. Four of my nanas and Aunty Alison sitting around a fire.
"Heeeeeeey! Kungka warra wiru pulka, mulapa!" They all sang. (Direct Translation: Truly a beautiful young woman!) Hmmm...?
"Siddown. The billy is on. I'll make cuppa tea. Want some wipu and damper?" (wipu, or malu wipu is kangaroo tail)
Unsure as to whether I was in the mood for malu wipu, I decided I'd settle for Aunty Alisons most delicious fluffy damper and a cup of billy tea.
After about 15 minutes, I was ready to get this car started and get going.
"Palya? Let's start him up"
"Wiya" Said nana Barbara as well as a whole lot of other things in Pitatjantjara.
"Nana said you gotta sit and rest for a little while"
"I have stuff to do" I told them. "I have to finish at home and then take Billy mob shopping"
But they were adamant. They shared their concern and asked thatbI just sit.
So, there I sat on a tarp by this creekbed, red muddy earth beneath and the women sang.
As the old women sang, one of them came over to me and began working with me energetically. I can't share too much, but after a very emotional release, and the most divine healing of hands, I felt light and calm. They had been so right. I really did just need to sit still.
"Ok malpa. Red on red, black on black" Aunty Alison told me over my shoulder.
"I know, I know" As I clasped the jump leads to the batteries
We started our cars.
"Rev him up" I called out
Both Toyotos revved loudly through the desert and the overpowering stench of deisel fumes overcame us. After a few attempts, Alison's car was ready to go.
We drove out in convoy and I was heading home.
All I could think of were my floors......
Rich, Abundant, Exquisite
It's 8.30pm and I'm on my verandah having a ciggarette. The rain hits the tin roof like pellets and a spinifex hopping mouse jumps past and dives into the grass. I'm reflecting on my day today....
Billy and Lulu are artists in residence again, and as usual, Ben and I are excited to have them around.
Beep, beep! "Hey, you mob ready" I call out loud enough so they can hear me through the rain.
Out emerge Billy and Lulu. "Morning. We ready"
Behind them, their daughters; Marlene and Jainie. Following them, Catherine, 11, Sarissa, 5, and Kevin, 3.
Cooley Tjuta! (Lots of Cooley's)
We were off to the Tourist Visitors Centre in Yulara. A museum of all the flora and fauna of the Central Desert. Here, you get to see all the real stuffed animals that are found in the desert. Papa inura (dingoes) malu (red kangaroo) kipara (bush turkey) mala (rock wallaby), liru (snakes), tinka (lizards), ngintaka (perentie), as well as, eagles, owls, every sort of mouse, snake, bug, scorpian, centerpeid - you name it, they've got it!
First though.. "hey, you mob seen where my wati has gone?
"yeh nanna, his Toyota went that way" and Billy pointed into the scrub.
"Let's go and find him" Catherine called.
I started to drive into the scrub.
"Hey, there he is!"
"Where, how can you see?" I asked
"I can see through the dark too" she leaned forward and whispered in my ear.
Sure enough, as we got closer, there was Bens ute. He walked over, wet, and looking adorable in his worn akubra hat. What a cowboy!
On closer inspection, right in front of me, there was a rabbit, tied to the tray of his ute. He was skinning and gutting the rabbits he'd shot the previous night! Clearly there were more than the ones he'd left in my fridge! He wandered over, knife in one hand, the other, bloody and covered in fur!
"Get away!, Yuk!" I screamed
I wasn't hanging around, I started the car and began to reverse out.
"Hey Ben, save one for me" Billy called out the window.
"No worries, I've already got one aside. Might cook him at Vics!"
"No you bloody won't! We're goin' for a Sunday drive. Catch ya after!"
And we were off!
Three kids, screaming, running around wildly and having a hoot of a time! It was fantastic! Later, I found out they'd had Coke and lollies for breakfast! That would do it!
With the usual trip home via the service station for a variety of fried foods, we were heading home.... Then, we approached the Kata-Tjuta turn off.
"wanna go for a ride" I asked
"Oowa!"
So, I hung a right and we were travelling in the direction of Docker River and Kata Tjuta.
Billy was travelling in the front seat and was describing what the country we were travelling through was like 20 years ago. He described the old roads, old camp grounds and showed me where he used to grade roads. Billy is unconditionally generous with his knowledge, stories and tjukurpa.
"Camula! Camula! Camula!" All the kids cried from the back, giggling so sweetly, the car was instantly filled with love and the innocence of children. So, we stopped for a moment, said hello to the herd of camels and proceeded to drive through pouring rain.
We arrived at Walpa Gorge, Kata Tjuta. One of my favourite places.
"This is wati ngura here" Billy told us. Mans place. Traditional owners aren't strict on this, and, tourists are able to visit freely. Apparently locals should know better, but, the old women have told me its ok. "We go there too kungka" they always whisper to me. "Maku tjuta there". Lot's of witchetty grubs they reckon!
It's pouring, kids are running up the rocky paths, barefoot, splashing in the little rockpools on the way, and I, leave the track and head down into the valley on the left with Billy. Creeks are running, waterholes are full, and the mala are abundant.
Down in the waterholes, ngangi (frogs) are hopping around and croaking and I feel like I am in Wonderland. Land, so rich, abundant, bursting with all the nutrients my soul needs. We sat by that waterhole in silence and it felt like the whole world had stopped, apart from that waterhole. In that moment, we were at the heart of the earth - in rhythm with its pulse. The water flowing into the creeks was the blood flowing through the planets veins. In that moment, I was reminded of the extraordinariness of our planet, of our country, and, of my opportunity to be so close to these amazing places where I get to share it with traditional owners!
After walking to the end of the gorge and being pointed at by excited tourists who were seeing anangu at Kata Tjuta, we headed to Uluru to check out the waterfall extravaganza!
After seeing rain on The Rock several times, it still blows me away!
From a distance, The Rock was silver, it's summit in the clouds, and you could see what looked like silver, etheric ribbons flowing down.
On closer approach, you could hear the water gushing down! White wash, rushing down through holes, pores, and rock holes of Uluru. Kantju Gorge was abundantly flowing, so hard, the creek nearby had started to flood. That I was hearing gushing water, crashing against an arkose sandstone monolith in the centre of Australia made me feel as though I were in some other parallel universe.
They were so grateful they'd had a Sunday day out, but today, the privilege was all mine. I was with family and I was experiencing the divinity of rich, flowing and abundant desert.
Photo by Catherine Cooley aged 11. Uluru.(Kantju Gorge far left) Courtesy of my iPhone!
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