A few days ago we arrived back from gariwerd / the Grampians. It’s the fourth year in a row that we’ve made this particular trip with a bunch of friends, and it never disappoints. The landscapes there are almost unimaginable, rich with history and energy, rising up out of 400 million year old sandstone foundations, layered with outcrops of granite. There are more than 40 mammal species, 200 bird species, 975 native plant species and numerous other reptiles, amphibians and insects that call gariwerd home. It truly is a phenomenal place supporting an abundance of wildlife and plants.
Last year after visiting I wrote: Gariwerd is a spiritual place which is evident in its rich history and landscapes. Traditional lands of the Jadawadjali and Djab Wurrung people, who have cared for the significant mountains, rivers, forests, rocky outcrops, animals and birds found in this special place for tens of thousands of years. The energy here is not to be underestimated. I highly recommend a trip to Brambuk in Halls Gap for all the information you require for a respectful and light-footed trip to gariwerd. Which all still rings true, so rather than reinvent the wheel I’m sharing this paragraph again.
These are the kinds of places that fill my mind in the darkness, when I’m settling down to sleep. In my imagination I slowly traverse paths I’ve walked, as a means to curl inwards towards sleep. In these mental wanders it’s almost always night. I remember where the rocks are underfoot, and the bends and curves in the path ahead. Sometimes it feels eerie, but I make myself continue down the track until it feels comfortable, until I feel enveloped by this real but imagined place.
The question I always ask upon returning to our deliciously small suburban life after being immersed in such an ethereal wild place is: how to keep this expansive feeling alive here?
A few quick things:
On birds, fathers and fairy possums. We listened to this Conversations interview on the drive to gariwerd and I greatly admire the work of David Lindenmayer.
I finally read Yellowface. I liked this review.
In an effort to ground myself today, pre-work and school returning tomorrow, I listened to some beautiful essays as I moved about the kitchen, putting jars and plates and cutlery away; mixing batter for a blueberry and rosemary lunchbox loaf (which the kids had a nibble of and decided wasn’t their favourite…). Reading the rocks was my favourite, pertinent to the themes I’ve been exploring this fortnight.
Yesterday I looked ahead at our calendar over the cooler months and was very pleased to see a number of blank weekends (for now… oh how quickly they fill up). I love how things start to quieten down at this time of year. I thought about the waterfalls of gar which we visited last week. How last year they were full and flowing, while this time the water was a trickle. On thinking about how to manage the flow of things as we move into another school term…
I spent two hours reading my book by the fire yesterday morning. The morning before that I spent three hours at a major shopping centre with my girls, buying some various staple things they needed. Perhaps that is how I must move through my days: simply tilting this way and that through each task, each hour, each cyclical chapter.
Tonight, when putting on a thunderstorm soundscape for my middle girl to drift off to sleep to, I saw this quote in my meditation app:
There is something wonderfully bold and liberating about saying yes to our entire imperfect and messy life. Tara Brach
It appears that in many ways a life’s work is the practice of this, of going with the ebbs and flows and trying not to attach to them, trying not to rile against things…
I’ll leave it there today.
Until next time, travel light.
L x
Thanks for the lovely 'listening' essays Lucinda. Sounded like a lovely trip to your special wild place. Kate :)