On country — One heart
A week ago I returned with my fellow travellers, Noelene and Kaori, to our homes on Gundungurra and Darug Nations’ country. I felt my whole body relax as we approached the foot of the Mountains even though it’s blue hue was no longer visible in the early afternoon.
I shuffled in my seat, sitting up a little taller, alert to the fact that we were getting closer. It had been 2,200 kms, driving 5 of the 6 days, and stiffness was starting to eek into my bones. My heart, on the other hand, couldn’t have been in better condition given the extraordinary experience we all had on Mutti Mutti country, with elder Annabelle Sharman, Jessica and Emma her daughters, and Jenny, their fierce and compassionate white-sister champion.
As we drove along the Great Western Highway, I dropped Noelene to Blaxland and then Kaori to Lawson on my way to Wentworth Falls. I pondered the chances that three of us and our chosen homes were somehow aligned to the 3 explorers we all learned about at school. Naturally, after this, I scanned my memory banks for any childhood learning about indigenous peoples in the Blue Mountains and sadly came up with blanks.
As I reached Bodington Hill (on the outskirts of Wentworth Falls), my eyes saw, as if for the very first time, the bold flush of spectacular autumn colours; beautiful and bright, golden- amber, orange, rich russet and scarlet-red leaves clinging to branches and yet, fighting a losing battle for ongoing connection and life.
Our trip to Paika Station, Balranald and Mungo National Park was anything but that. It was brown and beige. It was deep connection to life itself.
Sitting on the dunes at Mungo, I sensed the spirits of our earliest indigenous peoples. I felt just how precious and fragile life is and was for first nations peoples and still is. To walk upon those most sacred grounds and to be humbled in its presence is something that will never leave me.
After a moving smoking ceremony back at Paika and as the sun slowly set, it was with deep reverence that we sat with indigenous and non indigenous women. This experience was humbling and, at the same time, breath-taking and heart-expanding. We listened. We acknowledged the past. We connected to a future steeped in love for all people, animals, lands. We cried tears of sorrow and of joy. We emptied ourselves upon the shores. We gazed on vast skies and full moon brilliance. We received more than we could ever give.
With deep gratitude for her open heart and generosity, and the many insights this experience has provided, I offer this link to Annabelle’s work in bringing white sisters and black sisters together in oneness.
