The clouds are spilling over Tugwell. It’s an inelegant name for such a lovely mountain, smooth with forest green, patterned purple where the shadows of the cumulous ripple over and away. The clouds are collecting, the clouds now are releasing their water, the mountain is getting a pounding. That inelegant name, I’ve just found out, …
Ages back I’d planned to write something about this year’s pilgrimage to Mt Bride in March, part of our annual Walking the Mountains of Home project. But that event was wedged between two paradigm-smashing events: the climate change bushfires and the pandemic. We’re in the midst of strange, unsettling, complex times. Topics that once were …
We’d been talking all the long drive to the ocean. Working through ideas with each other, his sharp and complex mind a strong thing to meet. The car wove through the coastal gums, bringing us to the beach by the end of the afternoon. Overcast and humid, a warm steady breeze, the tide had drawn …
Cat McKay has created a beautiful artwork here; fusing her film making with my words to convey something of the experience of dancing contact improvisation outside. This is dance with a human other, and a more-than-human world. It’s one of my favourite things to do, and a powerful way of learning and knowing. And here …
After the dismay of the election, and a sense of wanting to crawl into my shell, perhaps it’s more helpful if I learn how to engage with alternative media, this other world we can reveal and create together, the different stories we can tell. So, a little something to say sorry, for sorry day, and …
Edge of the Sacred Conference, Whitegums, Arrente Country, July 2016 Thank you, Keith and Stella, for inviting me to be part of this gathering. Thank you to Mallee and the Arrente for our gracious welcome. I feel very grateful to be here. I hope I have something to offer; more and more as I progress …
It was a hot bright day with a warm desert wind when David Abram and I set out to visit Martin Prechtel. It took awhile to find his ranch, we had to ask a number of the locals of Ojo Caliente – there were no signs, no outward signs of what lay within. It reminded …
Desert Winds, Ancient Voices: Meeting Martin Prechtel Read More »
This April the fourth was the tenth anniversary of setting out from Williamstown on the Long Yarra Walk. I woke to a stunning day, perfectly autumnal; cold clear morning, with a rolling band of mist streaming along the side of the valley, not far above our place in Warburton. After washing my face in …