Dreaming of An Ancient Earth In Rebirth

I was sitting peacefully tonight reading an inspiring book listening to Yothu Yindi an Australian indigenous group. Most of the album is indigenous music with sticks, didgeridoo and a singer. It was mesmerising. I found myself closing my eyes and really feeling the sounds in the music. The rhythm was fast and the didgeridoo just took you into a meditative space, I contemplated their altered states. I wondered at how shocking the transition from 40,000 years of living within the land to the structured and enforced European settlements and ways of life. It must have been enormous, like civilisations from two different planets meeting unable to relate. That was the feeling. I then went into the dream (twilight) to feel for their rhythm as a language, which felt deeply peaceful and harmonious. I then felt to write this poem.

When I was at Uluru I decided to be respectful of indigenous requests to not climb the rock, I wanted to, but decided to ask for a clear sign if I was to not climb. That night indigneous women came to me in a dream. They impressed on me to walk the base of the rock. I felt them as gentle. This is the peacefulness I felt tonight within the sounds and rhythms, we call music. It is not resisting, it is gentle, free and flowing. I see this as our true nature.



Earth men and women,
Are women and men of the earth,
Some call them indigenous,
Others know them as ingenious,
To live as one with mother earth,
Is a wisdom re-emerging consciousness,
As 40,000 years is a testimony to truth,
Uttered in languages very few speak,
Or desire to learn,
As we seek out sustainability,
Without experience of the wild life,
That can never be tamed.

The tunnel of the flute,
Natures branch broken
from the tree of life,
Reveals the sacred space,
Of the breath,
Setting the tone alone,
A silent meditation,
As voices find the rhythm,
In stories remembering the dreaming,
Shedding ancient knowledge
like the skin of a serpent,
For the ancient and terrestrial,
Are living in the cosmos of twilight,
Before the dawn of humanity,
And the dusk of change,
Mesmerized by an ancestry,
That never passes on,
But is alive,
In the pre-sent,
Bringing guidance to the dispossessed,
In their own land.

Sitting still under the shade,
Leaves form the canopy of relief,
Filtering the midday sun,
As the only scorching of the earth permissable,
Wordless beings sitting motionless,
Inconceivable without talk to fill gaps,
Hunting and gathering at sun rise,
And sun set,
The sun and the moon mark time and space,
As the kangaroos graze the wide open plains,
Awaiting the cool of night to descend,
As shadows of the dream-time awaken from sleep,
To find life is the dream,
Of all sleep walkers.

The white people see black and white,
Rather than shades of grey,
Or indeed overviewing paintings,
Morse code painted on ancient prose,
As the message rests in the silence and after the songs,
Disguising ancient wisdom as corroborees,
Camouflaging ancient survival as stories,
To see beyond the veil,
a mystery that cannot be penetrated,
By the rationale and calculating,
For life is not a negotiation,
Or a Centrelink welfare contract,
When living as one with the land for 40,000 years,
Drawing upon the pattern and rhythms of experience
celebrating the true life,
For one must understand the many life forms,
As the one,
To be in-formed about life,
As survival is not a fortnightly statement,
But a statement in the dawning light of renewed understanding.

Life sings its harmonious song,
In unison,
Harmony sings praise and gratitude,
Rather than dominion and domination,
That lives within nature rather than outside,
That sings in stories rather than academic transcripts,
For in-formation lives in an oral memory,
That is inherent and inalienable,
A heart based intelligence of rhymes and punctuated rhythms,
That is cellular weaving rather than academic reading,
As circular breathing rather than stressful meanings,
In streams of consciousness that flow in practice,
Rather than schools of thoughts of theory and status,
Where no thread is continuous,
Only houses of knowledge that are never integrated into nature,
Why not a school without walls?
As all real knowledge is in the natural world,
All cures of disease,
All purification of thoughts,
As all come to know the sacred law,
Is not folk lore,
For it requires no policing,
Or arresting control,
As the elders and ancestors are the witnesses,
Whispering a sacred code that cannot be broken,
As secret business has no profit motive,
Only the motif of ritual and natural consequences.

In this world there are no fences to keep others out,
As there are no property rights to lock oneself in,
When the land is your mother,
Always available and free,
The sky is your father,
Always vast and nourishing,
As the winds bring welcome change,
Only the earth gives birth to all life equally.

How can one own what has no re-sale value?
How can one appoint value to the valueless
when it is given?
That cannot increase or decrease on your demand,
As life signals yields that provide naturally without limit,
Harmonising a spiral essence of expansion,
Guided by solstices and equinoxes,
A precession or rhythm of endless cycles,
The alpha and the omega,
Ushers the beginning and an end,
Repeating infinitem the collective memory of life,
Without interruption or uncertainty principles,
As the pulse of civilization is alive and predictable,
Not as cultivation,
But a spiritual intention of growth,
That includes the universe in the family of stars,
Flowing across the sky as a river of lights,
Leading all back to the Seven Sisters of the Pleiades,
Dreaming the future from the past,
Which has arrived,
On time,
In space.

Mohandas Gandhi

“If we are to teach real peace in this world, and if we are to carry on a real war against war, we shall have to begin with the children.”