As some of you may know I’m currently trying to find pathways out of the impasse of anthropocentric consciousness. I’m not imagining I can save the world for I am not a world leader. I am simply an older woman trying to weave threads of ideas into a meshwork that will create personal psychological buoyancy. I am not trying to convince others but am merely trying to find my way in these challenging times. To do that I have set up new blog which I’ve called ‘Wayfaring’.
At present I’m deep into researching ideas and concepts about anthropocentric consciousness. To aid me in this process I’m creating a visual journal (which is getting increasingly messy). I’m now finding that I also need to express my thoughts in writing. Blog posts are the easiest way for me to do this.
Journal spread – ‘Exploring ideas along a meshwork of trails’
There are many differing opinions about the Anthropocene but more and more, the idea that the human/nature split lies at the bottom of it is emerging as a dominant theme. Many academics, philosophers, poets and artists are exploring the idea that to move forward we have to move beyond dualistic thinking. Just how we go about that is open to conjecture, but it is here where I find the most creative (and often challenging) ideas.
It is these ideas that I am exploring in my writing and visual journal. I’m not following a pre-determined path to a particular destination. Instead, I am wandering, digressing and wayfaring through a raft of ideas of concepts.
Journal spread: ‘Wayfaring as a metaphor for a trail of growth’
My move across to my blog is progressing. I’ve made a few posts now and written an About page. The first WordPress theme I chose did not allow for comments so I had to change to another theme. Hopefully now everything on the new blog is user friendly. Please let me know if you have any problems with it.
Right now you’ll find edited versions of a couple of poems I wrote a while ago on the site but new content will be coming soon. I’m currently exploring ideas around the concept of wayfaring and honing just what I mean by naming a blog ‘Wayfaring’. This process is taking me off on various tangents so I thought I’d announce the blog now to help me focus my intentions for it. More soon…
I drove home on the A1 – that’s ‘A one’ not AI – the highway that runs round Australia. I’d just come through the Stony Rises -that strange benighted land haunted by tribal massacres – when the rain came down in earnest. It fell in a deluge that reduced visibility to metres. All around me shining silver water and LED headlights. The traffic didn’t slow. Hugh SUVs roared down the road. (We get the gas guzzlers that are banned elsewhere – huge truck like vehicles are sold as family cars now, cleverly marketed as proof of masculinity in these days when the old role gender models are contested and every second teen is non binary anyway.)
So there I was driving through the sheets of water those vast machines throw up in their wake my head awash with sound and light. Speeding home through an apocalyptic scenario made a wild kind of sense after my weekend away down the coast where the Southern Ocean roars and the wind screams in off the sea like banshees.
Earlier in the day I’d been to a sound healing – – imagine digeridoos, crystal bowls, sand rattles, kangaroo skin medicine drums, soft chanting – in a deconsecrated church – light streaming in through stained glass windows depicting St Brigit dressed in red and purple, then splintering to fall in rainbow colours on those of us gathered there.
A tipping point of sorts – the didj played in a church- the end of something, the beginning of something, reverberating in waves of sound building to a cresendo then falling to a whisper to rise again and again for over an hour.
Inside that vaulted space, a new and sacred music lifting the spirit, releasing old pain. Wearing totemic feathers the aboriginal shaman chanting words of hope – ‘as we heal ourselves we heal our family, our community, the earth itself.’
Not quite grounded I drove on through the rain, almost blinded by the light, silver bright rain cascading down on the A1 until, at last, a break in the traffic and a signpost pointing back to home. I turned off down a minor road as the rain eased. The gum trees in the paddocks tossed in the wind and a rainbow arched across the storm streaked sky.
In the cavernous stable the child me looking up, in the shadows hanging with cobwebs, old harnesses and ancient bicycle wheels coated thick with brown dust.
Adults decide the whole lot has to go. The patriach died some time back, his Will decreed a three way split my dad and his sisters all to get a share, in dollars though, not in dust and decrepit pony carts.
Bulldozed, a world collapsed. In its place, a multistorey building. Online hunting during lockdown I saw an apartment there for rent. Virtually I stalked through empty rooms, all painted white, not a trace of dust, no decomposing bridles to be seen.
Ghost-like now I haunt my past. Old griefs and sorrows wrapped in disjointed memory traces. Just exactly how did your voice speak my name at midnight?
Everything spiraling, Whirling Dervishes dancing through time. Endlessly and forever the Wheel of Fortune turns.
Fingers poised above the keyboard a knock on the door disturbs me. Opening to an icy blast, two degrees C this winter morn, two grandkids sniveling on the doorstep, (too sick for school, it’s grandma’s today) Dad behind them rushes off to work as they talk of ocelots and meerkats. Birthday treats at the zoo. The wheel spins.
In the global north the world burns, climate change havoc too hot to ignore. Systemic transformation is needed now. The past becomes the teacher.
I’m finding the world to be a very intense place these days. Sometimes I get overwhelmed with sadness about what’s going on – the ravages of climate change, the wars, the exploitation of the poor by the rich, the thoughtless behaviour of some people, the suffering of others, the plight of the animals.
It is in nature where I find breathing space – peace and quiet – some natural magic. Whether it is in some reserve tucked away on the outskirts of the urban development or public gardens in the city, I find being among plants calms me down.
Sometimes I wonder whether I’ll bother continuing to blog. Writing poetry is not something I feel motivated to do anymore. Writing anything feels kind of pointless to me right now. Mostly I find people in my life at present are so busy with their own stuff they don’t really get what I’m on about. If what I’m saying doesn’t fit with their pre-exisiting world view they tend to react like it is a distraction they really don’t need at present. At worst they think I’m some kind of nutter.
I’m finding I often just need to disappear into the mysteries of the natural world. The peace and quiet of nature soothes my senses and makes me feel better.
To say I’m finding a lot of what’s going on the world hard to digest is not just a figure of speech. Some days I just don’t feel so good. My gut hurts and my head aches. Being on my own in nature alleviates these physical symptoms.
On Friday I went to the local writer’s group I’ve joined. We didn’t do much writing but had very dynamic conversations about writing, climate change and a whole lot of unrelated matters. Yesterday I couldn’t settle to yet another Saturday stuck in this crummy old house doing the same old same old. I really wanted to get out of town and experience something different.
I decided to visit a lake deep in the rainforest to the south west. I’ve never been there before but had heard it is a particularly beautiful spot. I set off full of enthusiasm, but the drive took far longer than I expected and even the roads up the through the forest were busy with weekend tourists driving huge SUVs at breakneck speed. This seems to be constant now in this post pandemic era. Everyone in Victoria is so bored of staying home after the 8 (or was it 9?) lockdowns we endured over 2020-21. People take any opportunity they can to get out of the house.
Up at the lake I got the last place in the carpark and set off to explore. It was a very strenuous walk. Most the people I met were young and fit. They smiled broadly, gave me a pleasant greeting and bounded off on their way. The only person that stopped to chat was an older woman who really had a lot to say. It was interesting to hear her talk about her need to get out into nature after the past three years. Her story had parallels to my own in that she’d spent most of the lockdowns alone and then, last year, had some kind of surgery which impacted her life for quite a while. I enjoyed our chat for, like me, she is also feeling a strong urge to connect with people face to face. It was good hear about the track ahead too. It got even steeper and that once at the summit there was a steep descent down a wet and slippery trail to the lake.
Once we parted ways I continued on until I reached a really steep incline. My lungs have never fully recovered from my bout of pneumonia in 2019 and I was soon puffing and panting. A particularly slippery set of rough steps was enough to make me decide to turn back. I was here to enjoy nature not to break my leg!
Once I’d decided that, I took my time getting back to the car. I’m not likely to go that way again so I decided to slow down, enjoy the experience and take loads of photos. Here’s a selection:-
Although I didn’t make it to the lake, I did discover a little platform that jutted out over a large pond. The day had been overcast with intermittent rain but at that moment the sun came out and set the world around me shimmering with sunbeams.
The drive back home took me through a little town deep in the forest. I lived in a very similar place back in the 1980s and sometimes think that maybe the answer to my housing woes is to go and live in a locality like that. Yesterday I stopped at the town and took a wander along the main street. It was pleasant enough and bought back memories of my old life in the forest, but it also bought home to me the knowledge that I can’t go back to that.
The stimulating day at the writer’s group, the chat with woman on the forest trail, the long drive, the reminder about my damaged lungs and the brief visit to the little town all compounded to make me realize just how much I’ve changed over the past few years. I’d been aware that something inside of me had subtly shifted but I hadn’t been able to get a clear picture on just what it all meant until yesterday.
I have no idea where I’m going to live later in the year when I have to leave this place. The rental crisis in Australia continues and the rent hikes have not levelled out. I had thought that maybe the answer for me was to go off and live in some isolated place out in the sticks. Now I’m not so sure that is answer. I’ve lived like that many times in the past and am used to spending a great deal of time alone. Yesterday I realized just how much that way of life doesn’t resonate with me anymore. My growing realization that climate change and the social and financial upheavals that are currently happening in the world are going to have a major and serious impact on all our lives over the coming years is making me re-assess my way of life. I’ve no idea just where it’s all taking me but I’m going to spend the next six months exploring places, ideas and social contacts that might lead me into a more environmentally aware and sustainable way of living.
Mapping uncertainty 