Brian’s Weblog

33 – Part One

The tourist comes here with the camera taking pictures all over. What has he got? Another photo to take home, keep part of Uluru. He should get another lens – see straight inside. Wouldn’t see big rock then. He would see that Kuniya living right inside there as from the beginning. He might throw away his camera then. – Kunmanara, Traditional Owner of Uluru

With my swag on the hard desert ground as my bed and the wide open night sky as my ceiling, I had a spectacular view of the Universe stretched out in front of me.  Staring at the huge white streak running through the night sky of the Australian Outback, my mind was as still as the desert air.   Oftentimes I heard that a person feels insignificant as they encounter the Milky Way in full glory for the first time, realizing how small they actually are.  Yet here I was, homeless and wandering the bush, and unlike what I heard from others, I never before felt so significant, so big . . . and so connected. 

It is no wonder that thoughts were difficult to grasp, because as I was quickly learning, this journey was more about feeling than thinking.  By the third day in the bush my level of relaxation was moving into a state that was more like a trance than the consciousness I was used to in our modern world. I was also becoming increasingly aware that my entire world was flipping inside-out. 

My clan of twelve dreamers and our teacher Chief, a bald, rollie-smokin’ Kiwi, spent the days exploring the ancient lands of the Aboriginals at sites like King´s Canyon, Valley of the Spirits and Uluru.  Our nights were around a campfire, hundreds of miles from so-called civilization, eating tucker and bonding with each other.  While the days held much learning about Aboriginal culture and the land, the night sky opened its mysteries up as well. 

On one night I woke up most of the clan with my excitement as I whispered loudly to a fellow dreamer, “Travis, look at the moon . . . it is orange!”   I had never before seen such a moon so huge, and so orange; it was as if I could touch it.  Another night, Naomi, a meat-eating artist from England, was the first person to point out to me the constellation Orion.  Although I never knew before anything about Orion, much less where it was in the sky, it would become an important part of my journey, making its presence known to me three times during my three months in Australia.

I would soon come to understand that Orion, like everything in that night sky, no matter how far, is connected to me.  The Aboriginals believe everything has one source, so therefore, everything is connected – from a grain of sand to the farthest galaxy the eye can´t see.  Even scientists would agree with this, since everything in the Universe, including us and everything around us, is energy, and that energy comes from the “big bang”.

This interconnectedness was illustrated well by Chief, as he showed us at King´s Canyon a tree which yields a fruit eaten by only one bird, which then drops the seeds to make more trees.  The bird exists for the tree, and the tree exists for the bird, giving us an example of the perfection in nature, as well as proof that indeed everything is One, and everything we need is provided.  In their world of Oneness, the Aboriginals did not have to say, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ They sought first to respect that Oneness, knowing all these things will be given to them as well.

Perhaps it is their belief that everything is provided which enables an Aboriginal to bring back a kangaroo to his clan, allowing everyone to eat before he does, knowing there will be enough left for him when they are through.  This law of sharing is in contrast to our western society, where the “hunter” typically takes more and takes it first, seeking security against his fear of lack.  All too often the modern hunter stores up kangaroos for himself, where moths and worms destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.  Aboriginals, on the other hand, showed that through sharing, where your kangaroo is, there your heart will be also.

Standing in Palm Valley with Chief telling us about this concept of sharing, I had a sudden epiphany telling me why, months before in the business world, I decided split my kangaroo evenly with two others.  My “inner voice” said to do it just this once to see what happens, knowing that what ever I gave away would come back to me. As illogical of a decision it seemed at the time, in the Outback it was revealed that I had to share my kangaroo in order to see the world through the eyes of an Aboriginal, and to understand what I would later be taught in the bush.

I also learned the concept of sharing extends past kangaroos as several clans shared sacred sites.  Aboriginals have no concept of property ownership, for you cannot own land, but rather you are part of the land and it is your duty to take care of the land.  In the west, land, or real estate as we call it, is something to be owned and exploited for the benefit of the owner.  The two perspectives are in direct opposition.  Perhaps for the modern man (or woman), we seek security through owning real estate, but as recent events have told us, this is a very false sense of security.

Interestingly, Aboriginals also did not make war.  This makes sense as most wars are fought over land and resources.  The Aboriginals did not have fences to keep others out, like many nations have built throughout the ages.  For example, Uluru was shared by many clans as a sacred site without fighting over who had the right to be there.  Underneath the night sky of the Outback, I wondered how nations like Israel and Palestine could benefit from simply “flipping” around the way they think, to understand that land does not belong to them – or anyone – and work together to honour and protect that land. 

In stark contrast to the beauty of the white streak running through the night sky was the sadness of the white streak running down the side of Uluru.  The latter was man-made, caused by people climbing “the Rock”.  All around Uluru were signs requesting, without restricting, that people not walk in the steps of the creators, with messages such as “We don´t climb,” and “Please don´t climb.”  Fortunately, from our group of dreamers, no one wanted to climb – a first for Chief, as he would later tell us. 

My mission on that day was to stand at the base and simply ask people either beginning or ending their climb about their motivation.  While their replies were varied, ranging from, “Because my friend did it,” or “I paid the entrance fee and the Aboriginals make a lot of money from it,” or “I hear there is a book you can sign at the top,” clearly the common denominator was ego.  I wondered if these people who gave such little consideration to the pleas of the Aboriginals and climbed Uluru, snapping photos from the top and purchasing T-shirts saying, “I climbed the Rock,” to announce their achievement in front of others to be seen by them, truly walked away with anything rewarding at all. 

As I stared into the sky each night, I felt that the human mind, contrary to popular belief, does indeed understand the mysteries of the Universe.  Perhaps it is an intuitive understanding we cannot consciously comprehend, born out of the part of the brain we believe we do not use, but on the level of the soul, we understand.  This is what unites us with the Aboriginals, as well as with the rest of everything that is.  Falling asleep in my swag by the campfire with my clan of dreamers, I knew I was staring into the face of God, and I knew this was exactly the place I was supposed to be. 

And there in the bush, under the Milky Way, is where I started my Walkabout.  I was 33.

1 Comment so far
Leave a comment