Winter Solstice, Australia 2016

Winter Solstice Dawn 2016

Happy Winter Solstice everyone. Here in Narooma, on the east coast of Australia, i watched the sun rise over the beautiful Pacific Ocean and sent out my thanks for life to the sun. The traditional owners of the country here, the Yuin people, address our local star as Grandfather, so i was happy to take that on as a sign of respect for their ways of being here over thousands of years.

The Youtube video embedded here is of this dawn, Tuesday June 21st 2016.

The words are inspired by the evolutionary interaction of the elements, as well as by what i have learnt from Yuin elders, especially the Harrison clan (more to come on this in the City Living, Nature Calling ecomythic documentary film series). I’ve been spending as much time as possible around these parts watching and listening to the sun, the ocean, the sand and the land, the birds and animals around here, the stars at night, the wind and the trees and that deep inner voice that reminds us about what is important.

The sun gives birth to life, which rises out of the ocean. We, along with all creatures, give it body. Every day we are fired back into life by the power of the sun. We rely on the salt water to maintain the basis for life and the fresh water to keep us hydrated. We are elemental beings, with conscious minds, who are sometimes confused into thinking that the sideshow is the main attraction.

The earth, the sun, the ocean, the stars and the other creatures. This is home. This is what matters. When we get our minds and bodies together and remember this we are better for it.

Let the light return and draw you up.

Belonging to the Earth – Deepening that Feeling

Geoff headshot Belonging

While we are working on feeling more at home in our skin and strengthening our sense of community, we are already deepening the sense in which we belong to the earth community. But we can go way further than this, by opening our minds (or soul, or psyche) to the intelligence of the earth itself. You know the saying, that indigenous peoples believe that the earth doesn’t belong to them, but they belong to the earth? Let’s drop into that one, as modern people, together. This can be done with a change of consciousness, the kind you may have felt listening to great music, while dancing, or during any exercise where you felt transported to another place. This is the spirit of Dionysus, who guides us to dissolve the ‘iron cage of reason’ (as sociologist Max Weber called it) so that we can enjoy the sense of freedom traditionally available to all members of society in ritual or other celebrations. Sure, we know how to celebrate modern life – and yes, sex & drugs & rock ‘n roll count as valid expressions of the Dionysian too – but we don’t get enough opportunity to do so within the context of the sacred, where deep meaning dances with intoxicating experience.

To do this, we need to balance the rational with the irrational, the ‘logos’ of everyday consciousness with the ‘mythos’ of the more-than-human world, the calculations of the ego with the archetypal (and humbling) realm of spiritual intelligence. This is where both sides of the mind converse, because there is a logic to myth (once its symbolism can be interpreted), just as there is a mythic aspect to our ‘reasonable,’ everyday lives. In the metaphor used by German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, Apollo was the god of form, who guided the ‘reasonable’ side of our minds, while Dionysus was the god of frenzy, of unreasonable pleasure such as we might experience while lost to the dance. Both lend us great qualities, but too much measure and logic leads to a frozen heart, while too much partying leads to … well, you know about hangovers and addiction and failing to realize our potential because we got lost in too much intoxication. The trick is to let each inform the other, until we no longer need to differentiate between them: the ‘rational’ is energized by the ‘mythic,’ while the irrational, uncontrollable realm of the dreaming has some measure and meaning brought to it by our human concerns.

dreaming collage

For example, consider this:
My experience of the rainbow serpent rising out of the Yarra River, teaching me how to get more grounded in my work so that I can withstand the pressures of everyday society better, has a certain logic to it. The fresh water of the river cuts through the earth as it travels along the clay pans near my home, just as aspects of our emotional life cut through our bodies. There is an elemental parallel that makes sense: water is a metaphor for feeling and the earth is like our body, the ground of experience. Symbolically, the river brings healing; it refreshes me in mind and heart and body for new growth, just as rivers always do in reality. The logic of this ‘ecomythic’ vision (yeah, I’ve just coined a new thing) can bring another dimension to our everyday lives, where suffering is suffused with meaning and painful wounds open us to more-than-human possibilities, like being visited by archetypal or ancestral spirits with powerful medicinal properties.

Participants in a Belonging Workshop are led in experiential exercises that work with this kind of ecomythic material, to heal wounds, to evoke warrior spirit, to stand tall in our human selves and in our sense of the eternal flow of life that nourishes all things without limit.

If you can’t make it along, try this simple practice at home:

Meditate on your inner wound, while invoking it as an opportunity to open you to more-than-human powers, archetypal wisdom and the ancestral spirits of the land. Finding the logic of mythos draws the deep healing and energizing power of the more-than-human into your body, your mind, your heart and your soul. In Zen we call this opening a dharma gate and I will sign off as does my favourite old master, Yun Men: Take care.

Communion with Earth and Stars

Singing up the new mythic paradigm means reconnecting people with more-than-human nature, on earth and beyond. Living this means remembering that we are born of the earth and of the sky, our bodies built from stardust scattered throughout the cosmos by explosions so immeasurably violent that they can swallow up whole planetary systems with nary a burp.

 

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From the start we are sky and land creatures, flying through space at a million miles an hour* while walking on land that seems solid and stable but we know is just another coincidence of continental plates, sea levels, tectonic shifts, ice ages … we live in the sweet spot, just now. But we are creatures of uncontrollable fire, too, true to our first home in the stars – unimaginably immense bursts of light and heat, burning gas in the night, a conflagration of potential.

And then again, of course, our ancestors first evolved in salt water, evolving over millions of years out of that amniotic fluid, replicating cells before arising softly from the sea, gulping in air as oxygen became available, stepping out for the next adventure.

 

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To do this – to sing up the song of the earth and the stars, the fire dragons and water devas, the archetypal guides and wise advice and flighty air spirits and everyday ‘down to earth’ advice so that we can learn to live at peace with our earthly existence – we need to build relationships with place. Because we are limited; we have bodies, which are breathed through by life; and we have appetites, hunger and thirst and more, which we must satisfy. We live as part of an ecology of limit – not scarcity, but of a biodiversity that cannot be reduced to sets of resources that we are free to tap and extract as if life on earth could just keep on sustaining us forever. We live in places that offer certain amounts of warmth and nourishment, relying on stuff (material and intangible) that needs to be shared amongst the creatures.

 

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All that lives feeds off all else. Sometimes that cycle is cruel and seems inhumane. But we are capable of mobilising an ethic of life that allows the universal feeding to be tempered, ever so slightly, to reduce unnecessary suffering. When we get in touch with our bodies and inhabit them as intelligent primates with appetites and a realistic appraisal of our capacity for self-control, we can co-create at least the possibility of whole system flourishing. Sometimes the gods of nature will laugh this off, of course, shaking parts of the planet free of humanity with a particularly vicious storm or tsunami, with fire and flood and earthquake and pestilence. C’est la vie. This doesn’t stop us from co-creating a kind of ecologically-informed biodiversity of life on this planet, working with the extended kin all around us in the soil and sky, in the waters that sustain us and in our technologically brilliant cities.

My last post was about the difficulties of pursuing this theme of being in deep dialogue with the earth, in the context of being a relatively new ‘white fella’ on land inhabited by culturally complex ‘black fellas’ who had identified with their ‘country’* for tens of thousands of years. I felt I needed to expand upon White Fella Dreaming, to build something more inclusive of my own innate embodied wisdom, to help inspire my community to share the same. The theme of Belonging allows me to keep practicing deep listening to the land – that timeless flow that takes on specific shapes depending on the place and the psyches involved in the communiqué – and to share this regardless of the politics of colonisation and appropriation that mark this particular point in historical time.

 

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My friend Caresse wrote to me after this post, wanting to check in that White Fella Dreaming, as it became the blog for Belonging, would stay true to that bigger picture issue: the one about being human, regardless of cultural history or conditioning, and continuing the ‘deep communion’ between us as human psyches and the spirit of the land and the cosmos in an interconnected evolutionary process. What a great reminder, of my core theme and of how good it is to be involved in communities that keep us on track.

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The theme of White Fella Dreaming, as the blog for Belonging, remains focused on embodied spirituality and dialogue between the human and the more-than-human on earth and beyond. Belonging will feature more workshops, as well as online courses, retreats, tours and other ways of helping more people get more in touch with their inner nature, which is flowing on the infinite sands of reality. And the work will always return to our dreams and myths: the powerful stories that connect us to what we find sacred in life, which is simply what we hold most meaningful in our hearts and bodies, in the precious jewels of consciousness and material being that we have been so fortunate to be born with. Boundless potential for poise and spiritual generosity accompanies us as we ride the flow of life. In peace, Geoff.

*This may not be mathematically accurate. But you get the idea.

*‘Country’ = the ‘spiritually enlivened cosmos’ of place in Australian Aboriginal ways (Debbie Bird Rose)

 

Belonging workshop, Saturday 10th October, CERES Environmental Park in Melbourne: bookings

 

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How White Fella Dreaming awakened to Belonging

Have you ever hit one of those points where you knew the next move you made was vitally important to the rest of your life and you weren’t quite sure which direction to take? This year the White Fella Dreaming project took me way outside of my comfort zone and forced me to rethink the reason behind it: how ‘new’ or non-indigenous Australians feel more at home on the land, so that we treat it better, and achieve a more satisfying and respectful reconciliation with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians in the process.

Two Humpbacks underewater

The story begins on the remote desert-fringed beaches of the Ningaloo Reef in Western Australia, where I spent most of June and July this year. I was a long, long way from electricity, let alone mobile phone or internet networks. I snorkeled, fished, cooked over a fire with my lovely little family, and dreamed of what the sands and salt water would say to me if I could be awake enough to listen to them. I meditated in the sand dunes and heard the rustling of the ocean breeze in the desert grasses. I watched bands of olive-coloured budgies flock overhead, chirping a sussuration across the sky as they headed one day south, a few days later back north, on some mini-migration that remained a mystery to me. As I so often do, I wondered what knowledge the original inhabitants of this land would have had to share, if they still lived here on the land. I saw the occasional ’roo at sunset or dawn and eagles seeking roadkill along the endless highways; but there are not many animals out here, where the land is so sparse and the rain so rare.

budgies

In the water, it is different. I snorkeled alongside a manta ray while it fed in spiraling circles, before tipping upside down and swimming away with its under flank exposed, looking down at the sand and reef below. I flipped around with turtles, avoided a sea snake, kept my distance from the bronze whaler sharks, and marveled at the wild variety of other creatures that shared this ocean paradise: colourful fish, of course, but also sting rays, squid (which look almost celestially radiant underwater), cuttlefish, octopus, giant gropers and cod, flashy mackerel and tuna, harmless and beautiful reef sharks … the list goes on. But one amazing experience will stay with me for life. Around 2km out to sea, while free-diving from a boat, two humpback whales approached me, banked around to keep me in full view, and allowed me to swim by them for a couple of minutes. Those brief moments were some of the most special times that I have enjoyed in the company of other animals. I could hardly believe such magnificent creatures would come to me out there in the middle of the ocean. I wished that time would slow down to a stop, at least just for a while … but of course nature keeps moving, and they soon continued their migration towards the Kimberley, where they would calve some 1000km to the north of here.

manta ray

And it was up in the Kimberley – or at least that most exotic of Australian towns, Broome, which serves as the western gateway to this incredible landscape – that my calling became refined by fire. For here, in consecutive meeting with researchers into indigenous knowledge, I came to realize that I needed another way to teach alongside White Fella Dreaming; a way that did not put anyone off side, as I was told that my usage of the term “Dreaming” would, in terms of Aboriginal feelings about traditional and surviving culture. The Dreaming, for me, is a kind of mythology – or powerful story that links the physical world with a sense of the sacred – that listens to the song of the land and identifies people with the rest of nature, so they we are compelled to protect it as well as enter into conversation with it.

But this didn’t cut it on “country” (the “enlivened spiritual cosmos” of the land, as Deborah Bird Rose puts it). It didn’t matter how well I could defend my understanding or aims; the whole idea of White Fella Dreaming was just too close to cultural appropriation. I acquiesced to this and suggested I talk about “comparative mythologies” – which is technically my area, combined with the ecological humanities – but no go. The Kimberley Aboriginal peoples didn’t want their culture talked about in terms of myth, because this could also lead to misunderstandings. Once again, nothing I could do to help ease such confusions was going to be enough to get over that barrier.

So, I had to quit on the idea of working with this research centre and their people and move on. This didn’t mean the end of White Fella Dreaming, because I had seen this controversy coming, in one form or another, and knew I would have to weather such storms. And I had another set of allies who had also helped me to overcome this kind of challenge from a different angle – beautiful friends who had been advising me to find a ‘universal’ value, something in the human heart and soul that any and all could appreciate. While sensed they were right, the problem was that I still hadn’t found that theme. But now I was frustrated and that kind of energy, like anger, can be very productive when it is chanelled right. I was also lucky enough to be in Broome with another of these friends, my colleague Paul Pulé, who was interested in researching with the same group in his own field of ‘ecomasculinities‘. Together we workshopped my dilemma, using some of the phrases I had been advised to throw around: What is it that I do, everyday, that is behind all my efforts in the world? What is my highest, or deepest, calling? Put another way, what vision do I wish to serve, which will lead to ‘generative’ outcomes no matter what? And what word or phrase best describes this value in a way that does not lead towards possible misunderstandings or political disputes, conflicts or arguments (all that stuff we desperately need to resolve!). Finally, Paul helped me to name it. Regardless of who I am talking to or what the topic is – whether it is an intellectual conversation or an emotional support session, about spirit or football, at work or in the park, there is always one thing I wish to leave people with if I can – and that is a feeling of belonging.

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When people feel they truly belong, they are comfortable in their skin. They are at ease with their community. They feel loyal to the earth. They are more likely to do good work, to try and resolve conflict rather than inflame it, to protect what is worthy – including fresh air, clean water, healthy soil and other animals as well as all people (especially the defenseless or oppressed) and other manifestations of life (beautiful buildings, art, the scientific mind as well as the spiritual life, creativity as well as critical thinking – the list could go on forever, to include anything you stand for and love and wish to protect). In belonging I find what is most meaningful to me and to my work – something that underscores and takes priority over the intellectual labour of university life, something coded into the DNA of great stories and humble truths, a feeling that can emerge out of any compassionate interaction between myself and others. When I feel I belong and I share that feeling, all levels of possible conflict can be dissolved. The sense that we don’t totally belong in our bodies? Melted into a tangible sense of at-one-ness. Our experiences of conflict with others in our community, close or far afield? These can lead to a more robust order, a higher level of communications, better ways that allow for opposing perspectives. Our alienation from the rest of nature? Even this dissipates in the face of belonging, like a bad dream that fades as we awaken to a new life, transformed back into what we once and always were – at home, here in our bodies, with each other, born to this incredible fortune on our beautiful jewel of a planet.

For those keen to work with these ideas in a supportive environment, Geoff’s inaugural workshop on Belonging will be held on Saturday 10th October at CERES Environmental Park in Brunswick East. For more information and booking details please go to belonging.org.a

Transformation Learning – Experience and Wisdom with Jonathan Dawson

Jonathan DawsonJonathan Dawson is Head of Economics at Schumacher College (UK) and appeared at the OASES Graduate School in Melbourne to talk about “What we are learning about transformative pedagogy: reflections on the edge” (Monday 24th August, 2015)

 

About two dozen of us sat in a wide circle to hear Jonathan speak on his experiences of 11 years at the Findhorn community and his last 4 years at legendary home of sustainability Schumacher College. Naturally this included not just listening to a lecture; in fact, we got up and enjoyed a multi-layered, space-changing exercise in the large hall as a group, as a way of shifting our minds out of that passive receptive mode so common to traditional education. This game introduced us to the way quantum fields operate in interpersonal exchanges, as each of us moved around the room in an attempt to maintain the same distance between ourselves and two other people we had chosen at random. With everyone moving to try and maintain this equidistance, we represented a room full of people in a kind of magnetic flow, of constellations that did not follow social norms of reason, kin or bonding, but which nevertheless reflected some of the ways change actually does happen amongst people (and atoms and stars). I was amongst those that felt something profound happen during this exercise; something beneath or beyond words, yet deeply meaningful.

 

Schumacher College

With this in mind, and in hindsight, it should not seem so surprising that Jonathan chose to begin his spoken presentation with an anecdote about the way that ‘closing circles’ inevitably bring about very strong feelings for participants in transformational learning, whether they’ve been together for a whole year or a weekend workshop. ‘Coz this is where people realise what they have gained through engaging in learning that seeks to expand our thought processes beyond what sociologist Max Weber called ‘the iron cage of reason.’ This is where learning is an experience, which opens up the heart, body and whatever we like to call our mostly intangible sense of soul or spirit. When learning experiences ask us to recalibrate the way we think, listen, communicate, reason, feel and be with others, the results can be profound. Perhaps this is the kind of educational paradigm required in an era where everything seems to be changing faster than ever even as we ‘postmodern individuals’ awaken to the fact that we are all connected, to those in our human communities as well as to the world itself.

 

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And just as global challenges require a systemic (or holistic) response, each of us are also effected at some personal level, within, in those places where we experience emotions that are too often marginalised in the ‘management’ discourse that dominates adult education today. This is why transformational pedagogies remain more relevant than ever. Because we need to feel what is happening in the world around us if we are to respond appropriately. We are intelligent, social primates who are capable of reflection upon – and most importantly behavioural change in response to – what is happening around us. Real change will not come from bringing the intellect to bear alone; realistic responses require emotional and embodied engagement, physical experiences of what is happening and what we can do about it. Sometimes this may be as seemingly impotent as allowing ourselves to weep at the realisation of how heavy the ecological footprint is of industrialised societies, an outcome Jonathan says he has witnessed countless times, even when working with corporate and other managerial workers. By circumventing the abstractions of statistics, for example, an exercise like forming groups of people on two sides of the room – one to represent the consumers of ‘resources’ and the other to represent the relatively voiceless numbers of less advantaged peoples (or the even more voiceless earth itself) – can undercut the avoidance of grief that is part of our consumer era.

 

JD at OASES bwJonathan sets us up as consumers and ‘resources’ (Photo courtesy Ben Wrigley)

 

Naturally there is a strong element of phenomenology involved in such exercises and Jonathan mentioned how applying such philosophies in experiential educational contexts can allow participants to revalue personal, lived senses of justice and to dissolve some of our often uncritically accepted loyalties to dominant paradigms of reductionist meaning. He discussed how language can reduce a living subject, such as a tree, to a category box. We look, we define it as ‘just a tree,’ and we move on. This process doesn’t allow for the living being to be appreciated and makes it easier for us to accept that it could be treated as simply a ‘resource’ – something we can use at will and not care about any further. Transformative education asks us to rethink this process; to slow down and appreciate the tree as a fellow subject, another living being, who has the same right to be exactly as it is, where it is, as we do.

 

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I took the opportunity in a personal conversation with Jonathan at a later date to point out that I think arguments like the one by David Abrams, which claim that the written language has a kind of soul-destroying nature, may actually be aimed at the wrong suspect. From what I learnt of the agricultural revolution, especially in and around the Mesopotamian region around 8-10 millennia ago, which so strongly influenced the Levantine and southern European civilizations that followed it, written codes followed physical practices a long time later. The written alphabet did not create or even pre-empt a way of thinking that treated the world around the Sumerians as a set of resources rather than as a system of inter-related kin. This transformation, which many ecologically-minded people today find so troubling, occurred in the mind of oral peoples. The agricultural habit of treating the world as a set of resources was invented, developed and carried out for thousands of years before it was ever written down. If we want to find fault, it is with the dangerous creativity of humanity, combined with the temptation of a more managed system that could ensure consistently higher yields. Here is the beginning of capitalism and today’s worship of profit: in the availability of domesticable crops and animals, put to the service of humanity, until the plants and creatures themselves are thought of as chattels, things we own and control, rather than beings with whom we share kinship relations, lives we care for. When we consider indigenous epistemologies and what they have to offer to a 21st century, ecological way of living in the world, this is one of the main facets we must appreciate. Many pre-industrial cultures retain important aspects of pre-agricultural respect for all life and this extends our understanding of kinship and intrinsic rights to those beings, including even the inanimate world beneath our feet, in the rivers and seas, in the air we breathe.

In the circle at OASES, Jonathan also introduced ways to engage with what he called our ‘digital commons’ in the shift towards cooperative, communal learning. On the one hand, electronic and digital media are a great way to gather people together; but on the other, we need to connect with each other beyond the simplified set of senses this mode too often engages. Staring at the backlit screen is entirely visual, with a little tactile manipulation thrown in as we type or swipe. As already discussed, we need to add embodied, spatial skills (as well as the aural practice of deep listening, the symbolic capacity engendered with reflection, the self-trust that comes with feelings of intuition, and more) if we are to reforge the commonalities that bind us together with each other and the earth. One of the ideas that emerged out of this conversation was to ask appropriate questions, to take people from the screen to the event by piquing their curiosity, and to remember to have fun doing so. A morbid movement is one destined to collapse under the weight of its own ponderous fragility and grief; while these things have their place, they do not inspire people to act unless they are counterbalanced with the promise also of pleasurable interaction, wonderful storytelling, and convivial atmospheres. (And yes, we all laughed together that day at OASES.)

 

Joanna Macy quoteA venerable ally, Joanna Macy – saying something i love reminding myself and anyone else about …

 

Finally, Jonathan reminded us to switch the default position of transformational learning back to how people would learn if given the opportunity to share openly in community and thereby to experience themselves as self-aware bodies in relationship with others and the earth. We are primate beings, who evolved in relatively small bands of kin and who are hard-wired for compassion and generosity, given the conditions for these qualities to flourish. Nowadays, conditions favour a different kind of person and this has been developing since the agricultural revolution. We inherit so many bad habits – of reducing other lives to objects of profit and of thinking of ourselves first – that it takes time to dissolve them in experiences of shared support and a community of souls. This is what transformational education can offer today: learning experiences that are fully alive in mind and body – and that remind us we are also, as well, more-than-human and not less.

Are people part of the flora and fauna?

What makes human people special? In this context, what makes us stand out from the rest of nature? Why don’t we see ourselves as part of the rest of life on earth? This came up for me recently, as i listened to an Australian Aboriginal lady explain that her people should be thought of that way; that they were part of the flora and fauna of the land, in terms familiar to deep ecology. What was kind of shocking here was the fact that such an argument was once used by early colonists of this country to justify dispossession and settlement. It was allied with the idea of Terra Nullius; there is no real society here, recognisable to European standards, so we can simply take the land. Those black fellas are part of the land – so, no barrier to our possession of it. They literally branded Aboriginal societies as part of the flora and fauna, but meant something very different, and much more horrible, by the same sentiment.

  GB at PinnaclesThe author at The Pinnacles, Western Australia. Standing amongst the rocks, not independent of them.

A similar conundrum faces us when we align the feminine with nature; or with the darkness, or the deep waters of emotion. It’s not that the analogy is wrong – it’s the negative associations commonly held with the imagery that leads to problems. It’s easy to see why the feminine and nature are so easily aligned – we are birthed out of both, the womb of our mother and the matrix of the universe, physical matter itself. Likewise with the easy metaphorical association between the feminine and darkness; the mysterious ways of the world, the intuitive mind that women seem so often more comfortable with, compared to the ‘daylight’ or rational consciousness that has just as often been associated with the masculine spirit, and men in general.

 

Shark Bay beachThe sea, here at a beach in Shark Bay, WA. That sense of oceanic awareness, which Freud resisted and Jung identified with …  the great eternal feminine, the Tao of universal flow

If we were more comfortable with the darkness, with mystery, with the earth as our greater body, we could embrace these associations. We are suspicious of them because they are so often used to denigrate – to assume mastery over them, to remove ourselves from identification with them, to be independent and to feel powerful. It’s an illusion, just as the intuitive sense of them probably is too. Ultimately, matter and intuition could be thought of as masculine, abstract thought and logic as feminine, in a different social order. The moon has been considered masculine in Aboriginal and Mesopotamian cultures, which throws the whole European system out of order; in ancient Sumer, Nanna was the Moon God, a great bull looking over the herds of feminine stars. Symbols are flexible, no matter how true they seem to us. They are part of our consciousness, part of our mythology, so we accept them, just as we accept scientific thinking and the mundane materialism of commercial life in the 21st century.

 

Karijini GorgesThe spectacular gorges of Karijini NP, Pilbara region of WA. A sense of timeless pervades the landscape here, where rocks have been weathered for millions of years

I’d love to be thought of as part of the flora and fauna. I don’t want to assume mastery over the world and differentiate myself from it as part of some patriarchal fantasy of ‘civilisation.’ I’m just as comfortable with the feminine, nature, mystery and darkness as with the masculine, mind, a sense of certainty or logic and light – and i know that these systems of thought are all fluid, as sure as my sense of self and society and just as contingent upon history and environment as any other way of thinking. But i don’t want that to be an invitation to be defined as passive, as part of the land to be used and abused, as a walkover for free market assumptions that reduce everything to what they are worth at the current exchange rate, either. I stand with that Aboriginal lady – and support the positive connotations of her stance, just as i resist the way it can be turned upon her – and upon us. People of the earth, unite.

 

In Defence of all living creatures

Kudzu weed

Weeds. They’re just the plants we decide we don’t like. They get in the way of the ones we prefer – those we like for food or medicine. But, nowadays, they’re taking on a whole new dimension; as are pests, which similarly frustrate the agricultural project – to create as much surplus yield as possible. And thereby profits.

The project of dominion in general produces these problems because monoculture promotes monoculture. One crop covering hundreds of hectares attracts a predator bug in the millions. One crop of fertiliser or pesticide runoff kills much of the local ecology, reducing biodiversity and, again, for example, helping a gigantic population of jellyfish to inundate, in huge swarms, startlingly large areas of ocean. Algal blooms are likely feeding off the same acidic equation onshore.

 

Jellyfish bloom

 

Now, we don’t just name pests and weeds, we create the conditions most favorable to them. You might even say we create them; but all species have been creating all others, in a dance of life and death, hunger and skill, since life began inhabiting this planet. What to do?

Break the big farms down and increase the biodiversity in many more small holdings, where each family (of whatever makeup; it’s just a grouping name that implies close kinship) of farmers has responsibility to the ground upon which they depend.

Permaculture
They’re forced to take care of it because their lives depend on it. Then, even if they choose to use fertiliser and/or pesticide (which they might choose to use less of if they remained in intimate contact with their land, they would use a variety of chemical compounds instead of one huge batch of the same poison.
Either way, the earth wins. Biodiversity is increased on the land and in the fresh water waterways and salt water oceans into which they run. Acidity is regulated at least, improved at best. Other creatures get a wider choice of how to survive and thrive. And we even get to treat pests and weeds better, as we learn (or rather remember) that they too have their place in a healthy, robust ecological system. It’s all win, once the corporate elite allow a modification of their income. That’s not too high a price to pay, is it?

Biodiversity reef

The Cosmic Walk

The Cosmic Walk has amazing similarities with my work and the Ancestral Movements of my last post. While all three approaches embody the same philosophy, the Walk is a song, which relates the path and time scales of evolution, and then has each participant walk the spiral of time from the big bang to now.  As each participant walks the entire history of the cosmos, we all chant along the simple chorus:

     “I am as old as the universe, I’ve been here before and I’ll be here again;

      I am a child of the universe, a part of all women and a part of all men.”

Moon Court Brass Spiral

The beautiful brass spiral used for the Cosmic Walk at Moon Court, home to some of the events run by Pagaian Cosmology

The song “Child of the Universe” was written by British singer songwriter Theo Simon in the early 1990s.  It originally had four verses. At some stage John Seed, tireless activist in defence of the earth and developer of the Cosmic Walk concept, heard the song and requested Theo to write an additional two verses to complement the walk as an entire musical experience. The cosmic walk was originally devised by Sister Miriam Therese McGillis of Genesis Farm in New Jersey, a colleague of Thomas Berry (The Great Work) as a symbolic re-enactment that helps us enter personally into the story. Participants walk around a spiral that represents the entire story of the unfolding and gradual differentiation of the Universe and the Earth from the beginning to the present – and to us! 

John saw that with additional material, Theo’s song could extend to the epic it now is, ready to carry the whole story of the universe into a performance that can be enjoyed by groups anywhere. You can see John tell this story and sing the song here, at MoonCourt in the Blue Mountains of Australia, which has a brass spiral inlaid in the floor representing the Unfolding Cosmos for the telling of the Universe Story. John had been facilitating an Earth, Spirit, Action workshop during which that story – our Story – was told. 

The verses of the version sung at Wild Minds were sung by Helena Read, who herself has performed it on stage with Theo’s original band World Without Walls, unbeknownst by the Triple Ecology gang* who asked her to join them. Synchronicity abounds in this work.

The full lyrics can be heard in some renditions of the song, found here. Theo now performs it with his band Seize the Day along with this extensive repertoire of folk music in the British tradition of social and ecological activism. 

You can imagine how the Cosmic Walk is a similar experience to Ancestral Movement, although where that practice literally embodies the animal forms that have been integrated into our physical selves, this one is more in the style of the labyrinth walk. It is an occasion for meditation on the incredible journeys our bodies have undertaken from the bursting forth of the universe to this moment, pregnant with significance. Carried by the crystalline wave of the chant, we walk, sing, hum, and re-place ourselves exactly where we are. Try one as soon as you get, find, or make the chance!

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*The Triple Ecology gang (as I have just dubbed them) are holding an event in April (24-26) devoted to sharing the learnings of three frameworks: Sacred, Deep and Healing Ecology.

Wild Minds; healing, dance, storytelling, wisdom and community

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I just spent the weekend at the second annual Wild Mind gathering. This event is filled with workshops and presentations that engage participants around themes very familiar to this site: the interconnectedness of human and natural worlds, the empowerment of the individual in a setting of wisdom traditions, and conversations amongst this wondrous more-than-human world.  I was very happy with my offering, as i got to tell White Fella Dreaming stories around the campfire on Sunday night. I think i have discovered the perfect setting for my work; the same one utilised for the building of culture since the dawn of human consciousness. With no script or even much of an agenda other than to share the spirit of this work, i drew on Joseph Campbell’s ideas of what makes a successful mythology and leaped into how we could find this innate within each of our souls, as well as learning respectfully from indigenous traditions such as (and especially!)  those of the Australian land.

What a rich ride it turned out to be. An appreciative crowd, with an appetite for stories that embed us more deeply in the sacred nature of the earth, in the majestic spread of the cosmos, in our humble, wonderful hearts. Thoughtful questions and comments allowed us also to explore a couple of areas in particular the prevalence of a sense of shame amongst modern westerners. This is not an area i have worked very thoroughly, so the excursion was welcome, especially as it was raised by my great mate Nic Morrey, an experienced integral psychotherapist. My initial response came from both my own personal experience and my understanding of the history of civilization. For me, the context of the agricultural revolution behind all large-scale societies introduces the depersonalisation of nature, as it sets human industry up as the master of the environment. We channel the waters with irrigation to increase crops and increase the mating habits of domesticated animals in order to profit from thee activities. In turn we build cities with the surplus energy, which also must be stored, creating a need first for walls and then for armies. The goods must be protected.

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Humans being intelligent and perceptive creatures, we sense the unevenness of all this force, the danger of stepping out of our former place as hunter-gatherers living in balance with the rest of nature (or at least in much closer contact and with mush more respect for its limits!). Early agricultural societies even performed guilt rituals in light of this recognition. Like many members of a colonising force – a new Australian who profits, whether i want to or not, from the subjugation of the misunderstood indigenous inhabitants of the land – i have felt it necessary to examine my feeling of guilt about this violent appropriation. But that was some time ago and i have healed that wound. Today, i love my own soul, as a person born on this land, seeking more and better ways to live in touch with it and to spread respect for the First Nations peoples who still live here, as well as for their ancestors and for mine.* But Nic pointed out that while this history of depersonalisation could be healed, the prevalence of a sense of shame in modern individuals requires a systematic, or at least well thought through, response. For him, there is an archetypal pattern being worked through in each of us, from original connectedness, through a necessary rupture, and back to a consciously negotiated peace settlement. This would equate to an evolutionary path, which works much like Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit, through an antithetical force to a higher synthesis of complexity – which is my favoured definition of evolution. (Nic used a Vedic metaphor, from originally blissful Brahman through Shiva the Destroyer to the Shakti power of Divine Love. I’ll leave it to him to correct me if i got him wrong on this!)

As another friend James O’Brien pointed out, this is another way the myth of Genesis can be read; as a “Fall” into consciousness, out of the original Garden of Paradise, which forces us to work our way back to the Divine though hard work. I can’t help but always remind us of the very agricultural nature of this metaphor, though, which returns me to my original thesis about cultural and historical context …  and around and around and around we go. Wherever we find ourselves on this spectrum of possibility, we have to deal with it somehow. And my sense is that healing is always contingent; that we must revisit these wounds, within ourselves and our world, whenever we are faced with them, so as not to turn a blind eye to the ongoing suffering they cause when unattended.

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There was so much more going on in this fireside session of story-telling and across the whole weekend. (For more see here) What a rich way to spend some time, in the company of so many inspiring people, all working towards the same sense of community, supportive in times of need, evolutionary in focus, awake to the riches within the self and the earth, dancing freedom and holding space for the way we work with limits and love in sometimes trying times. Here’s to many more Wild Minds!

*There was also a fantastic workshop by Simon Thakur on Ancestral Movement. Simon’s position on ancestors is the same as mine as outlined here. I’m going to have to write soon on the ideas he is working with: that we embody all other creatures, and in fact aspects of the entire evolutionary process, in our own bodies. The obvious result of tapping in to these ways of moving is that we discover new levels of empathy with all life. Exciting work! Another highlight i want to write up that includes very similar ideas and experiences: the Cosmic Walk. Coming soon.

Images: 1. Purchased. 2. “The walls of Babylon and the temple of Bel” by Drawing by Mr. William Simpson R. I., and published by Prof. Charles F. Horne – Scanned from Sacred Books of the East *Babylonia & Assyria* editorship by Prof. Charles F. Horne (copyright 1907). Drawing by Mr. William Simpson R. I.. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons – http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_walls_of_Babylon_and_the_temple_of_Bel.jpg#mediaviewer/File:The_walls_of_Babylon_and_the_temple_of_Bel.jpg. 3. “Bush in fog”. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons – http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bush_in_fog.jpg#mediaviewer/File:Bush_in_fog.jpg

Becoming Deep Ecology

From Ecocrit to DEGeoff Berry presenting at the OASES Breakfast Seminar

This brief video explains a little about Deep Ecology; especially, what it does. In it, Geoff Berry, of White Fella Dreaming, describes the shift from being an ecocritic to becoming a deep ecologist. The key to this shift is around the lives we lead; being true to Deep Ecology means taking action, as well as accepting an idea, and hence using philosophy as the medicine with which we constantly remake ourselves as ‘sacred animals.’ While ecocriticism gives us great tools to deconstruct and decolonise our minds, it still leaves us outside our own stories according to Berry. As an example, an ecocritic analyses literature and film from ancient to modern, religious to scientific, to examine what it says about human relations with the rest of nature – while Deep Ecology asks us to take up the challenge of living as if we really were loyal to all aspects of nature.

Berry believes that by taking Deep Ecology seriously, we can regain access to wisdom traditions and experiences that enable us to live in accord with a higher, deeper, greater version of ourselves, which is always waiting to be birthed into life. This involves us in having our own practices as well as learning as much as we can from indigenous epistemologies and the ways of nature mysticism. This presentation was made at the famous OASES Breakfast Seminar series in Hawthorn (Melbourne, Australia) on Saturday 7th February 2015. There were some good questions and Geoff thanks the OASES community for keeping this tradition of public speaking alive and inspiring a very healthy crowd to engage with this ecospiritual material.