The Island. Encapsulated. In well entrenched entitlement.
Landholdings owned by a handful of prominent settler families of dubious heritage.
The land devoid of its indigenous peoples.
Eradication by small pox, a massacre here and there; a long spate of disappearances.
An aphotic disconcerting history covered by layers of white settlement, privilege and impiety.
This Island, ‘Phillip’ in white man’s terms.
Corriong or Millowl as known by the local Boonwurrung peoples.
Local by at least 40,000 years. That would be a ‘belonging’ which, puts ‘30 years local’ by to shame.
During the summer months traditional peoples would scout the coastal territory of the Island by bark canoe, aware of the rich variety of foods available.
Well honed in the nuances of the waters, the variable shoreline; the flora and fauna.
An unpredictable sea cavorting this way and that.
At once a glimmering still mirror, then a gentle swell emitting playful almost melodic ripples, then a surging, threatening turbulence – fierce, erratic, untameable.
Whilst Australia is a wonderful country and there is much to be grateful for, Australia Day remains a bitter sweet occurrence within its historical and social relevance to Indigenous Australians. Furthermore, as long as the welfare of our Indigenous friends is not adequately addressed, there can be no restitution.
Right across this land – look past the horizon – out into the beyond – feel your feet on the surface – zone in – right to the core – feel the expanse – the immensity – the wonder – not just this country but all over the planet – out beyond this planet – galaxy upon galaxy …….. it is not ours to own – to exploit – to tarnish….. and how can we be so conceited to think that we’re the only ones? We are visitors – all of us – we must behave like visitors – with respect and reverence …. Some may think that they own a small piece of it – but they don’t…really….. how can we possibly own that which is not given? We only assume things to be so and as such, we are always at odds with the universal law ……When we learn to abide by this law – when we learn to live in the universal flow…we will cease the struggle, the control and the greed… And what of love? It is said that love is all that is required…as if by some magical flick of a wand, love fixes everything.. How ignorant is that?? Love is an intent – a verb – a doing word – not a random emotion and not something to be bandied around to make ourselves feel good. If we tried to heal our woes with emotions, what a mess it would be! ….And it is! LOVE is the genuine intention of good will – of desiring well being for all. Not this disingenuous crap espoused by those in fancy garb. Let the false prophets be exposed, let the hypocrisy be revealed….let there be a genuine intent – may harmony and ease of living prevail. Stuff patriotism – (as Oscar Wilde said: “the virtue of the vicious”) – I pledge my allegiance to this wonderful universe and its eons old ways of creating harmony and order!
The little minds of human kind are no match for this…
There is a state of mind –
a state of being in which,
at certain times, one arrives.
A state in which there is a loosening
and an expansion of consciousness.
Where one is neither asleep, dreaming nor, awake.
It brings a certain presence with it,
a witnessing of all experience and phenomena.
Past, present, future.
All that there ever is,
all that there ever was,
all that there ever will be.
In this state of reverie,
one may float in blissful awareness
whilst all that was once hidden
comes out to play.
Oh to be a tree
Observing and grounded
To sway with capricious winds
Yielding to uncertain weather
Rooted firmly in Mother Earth
To sense only the changing elements
And the slow turn of passing seasons
Equanimous under a trillion night stars
Bearing witness to passing creatures
Human beings and their monkey minds
Creating havoc and suffering
Whilst the trees practice contentment
Take a leaf from the book of tree
The wisdom of sublime existence
How many colours has my soul?
Which one is the strongest? Which one is the weakest?
Which one is the wicked?
Which one has the power to drag your soul into a journey that will challenge you?
Are you the wicked one? What colours are you?
Who is the one now reading intent into my words? Making assumptions?
Uttering righteous comments – making subjective judgements?
Which, like a medieval sword challenges my heart, confronts my soul?
Whilst others choose to use my words like a knife with two blades
Do my words have the power to awake a dormant flower under the ice?
Like a pale ray of sun breaking the heavy clouds in the mist of winter?
Is it poetry of the soul? Are they words from the divine?
Are they words that can say more than words can say?
Words that seek to describe that which is indescribable?
The ineffable, indefinable, transcendental, courageous, infinite.
These words of soul’s connection, soul’s expression of the divine
The devil’s trumpeting or, the angel’s sweet melodious intonations
Are you brave enough to receive them?